“A Work of Artifice,” by the American poet Marge Piercy, is a small poem about a large subject. The poem describes how a bonsai tree, which in nature has the potential to grow to an enormous height, is instead carefully pruned so that it becomes something miniature—a mere, tiny glimpse of its potential self. Some bonsai trees, for instance, are actually miniature versions of giant redwoods, and it is clearly the latter kind of tree that the speaker has in mind when she mentions a tree that “could have grown eighty feet tall” (3). Rather than celebrating the careful “artifice” involved in producing a finely crafted tiny tree (as one might have expected at first), the poem laments the ways in which the potential of people in general—and of women in particular—can be stifled by the ways they are raised.
The satirical tone of the poem is already implied by its title: “A Work of Artifice” (emphasis added). If Piercy had titled the poem “A Work of Art,” the tone would have been much more unambiguously positive. By using the word “artifice,” however, she already begins to imply something deceptive, crafty, subtle, and cunning. Whereas we normally consider bonsai trees admirable, impressive examples of human skill, this poem finally suggests that miniaturization involves diminution and distortion: something that might have been grand and unfettered is turned into something neatly shaped and carefully controlled, but also puny. This process, the poem suggests, more often happens to humans than to trees.
The first four lines of the poem celebrate the latent potential of the tree, which might have grown to an enormous height. But then line 5 appears and reminds us that the giant tree would probably someday have been “split by lightning.” This reminder is crucial, because it prevents the poem from seeming naïve, sentimental, and romantic. A bonsai tree can be carefully protected from harm and may even live far longer than a tree exposed to the dangers of nature, of which lightning is only one. Yet the poem implies that existence in nature, and the development of one’s natural potential, are both more valuable than a life that is safe, controlled, and limited. Line 5 is crucial because it acknowledges the potential dangers of a life without limits, but the poem accepts and even welcomes those dangers as the risks inherent in a life of freedom.
Later the poem suggests that the gardener not only limits the freedom of the tree he prunes but that he also insists (falsely) that it is the tree’s “nature / to be small and cozy” (12-13). Is the gardener a deliberate liar, or is he merely deceiving himself? In either case, he is not expressing the truth: the “nature” of the tree is in fact to be anything but “small.” The gardener takes pride in shaping the tree to his own purposes, imposing his own will on it so that it conforms to his wishes. Of course, the fact that the gardener is...
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