In the first part of our series, we looked at the tools of the trade that Masashi Hirao calls his partners—the scissors, wire, pots, water, and the living trees themselves. In this concluding part, we explore how Hirao, with these partners by his side, has elevated bonsai from a 'job' to a form of 'expression.'
He doesn't aim for a finished product. Instead, he embraces change, deconstructs, and rebuilds. For Masashi Hirao, the art of bonsai is profoundly connected to the journey of life itself.

From Track and Field to the World of Bonsai

Hirao wasn't born into a family of bonsai artists. He was devoted to track and field through college and had envisioned a completely different path for his future. The turning point was a visit to a garden at Tofuku-ji Temple in Kyoto.

"Honestly, I didn’t really get it at first," he recalls. "But as I stood there just looking, I realized I was gazing upon ‘time’ itself."

He was more drawn to the layers of time embedded in the garden than its completed form. That feeling was what led him to step into the world of bonsai.

An Essence Lost in Translation Abroad

The words of his master also spurred him on.

"I want you to be someone who can communicate the art of bonsai to people, both in Japan and overseas."

True to his master's wish, Hirao traveled the world, holding demonstrations and workshops in over 25 countries. Yet, the more he introduced bonsai abroad, the more a feeling of disconnect began to grow.

"The forms and techniques are easy enough to teach," he explains, "But that alone only scratches the surface."

Bonsai is not about recreating a fixed, perfect shape. It's about observing the tree's current state, making constant adjustments, and shaping it over time.

"And that," he says, "is the hardest part to get across."

Is Bonsai an 'Unbreakable' Art?

Many people have the impression that once a bonsai is shaped, it should never be broken. Hirao challenges this very idea.

"People tend to think of bonsai as something you're not supposed to break," he says, "but in reality, we remake them over and over."

We cut branches, disrupt the form, and spend years building it up again.

"If a tree gets sick or its environment changes, you can't just leave it as it is."

A bonsai is not a 'finished product' to be preserved; it is a living entity that is constantly being renewed.

Floods and Rebuilding

An event occurred that forced him to confront this philosophy in a visceral way. Heavy rains caused a flood that submerged Hirao’s bonsai nursery. Many of the trees he had spent years cultivating suffered severe damage.

"It was devastating, to be honest," he admits.

Some of his apprentices left during that time. But Hirao didn't just stand by and despair.

"I told myself, ‘This will become inspiration for my work.’"

He chose to accept the lost time and broken forms, and to rebuild. With bonsai, as with life, you can never go back to the way things were.

Bonsai as an Art Form

Hirao has also pioneered new forms of expression, combining bonsai with music, video, and performance at events like the Setouchi Triennale.

"I think bonsai can be so much freer," he says.

Beyond being just a static display, a bonsai can reveal a completely different side of itself when paired with human movement, sound, and light.

"A tree’s character completely changes depending on where it’s placed." This was a realization that was reinforced during his exhibitions overseas.

When Life Bleeds into Art

Hirao’s artistic style is deeply connected to his life experiences. Some have remarked that the atmosphere of his work changed after he lost a family member.

"I’m not consciously aware of it myself," he notes.

But when he is face to face with a tree, his feelings inevitably emerge.

"You can't hide it," he says. "Because bonsai are alive."

Joy and loss, with time, become etched into the very form of the branches and the spaces between them.

Never Finished, Always in Progress

For Masashi Hirao, there's no such thing as a 'finished' bonsai. There is only the best possible shape for that particular moment.

"That’s why I’m no longer afraid to rebuild," he says.

Breaking something down isn't an act of negation. It's a choice made in the service of continuation. Bonsai isn't something you finish growing; it's a form of expression that keeps on living.

A Partner: The Commitment to Time

For Hirao, a 'partner' is more than his tools or the trees themselves. It's the resolve to embrace the passage of time.

It means accepting change, breaking things down, and rebuilding. It means shouldering everything and moving forward into the next moment.

Masashi Hirao's bonsai are not moving toward completion. They are simply continuing to live.

What struck me most during the interview with Hirao was his attachment to a single pair of scissors he’s had since his apprenticeship. He still uses them as his primary tool today.
His comments, such as, "I calm my nerves by talking to the scissors I received from my master," and, "When I'm overseas, I want to convey the spirit of bonsai, not just its form," revealed the profound connection he has with his tools, using them to center himself over the years.

The tools remain constant; only the artist evolves. It became clear that for Hirao, his trusted scissors are more than just a tool for shaping bonsai—they are a partner that has witnessed and embraced his own evolution as an artist.