IRONY?

Is this irony? I was just having a conversation about enjoying penning slightly longer posts and though I am working on one, I ran out of time and now am at the point of putting something up, saying look at me and have a great evening. On a recent trip to the big city, Utica/ New Hartford, we took a detour and ended up at a new to us pastry shop, DESERTS BEYOND THE ORDINARY, a shop name well deserved. We arrived with a predetermined selection provided they were available and picked out two cannoli and two lobster tails, one chocolate and one banana (!), these four would have to be a base line against other pastries we have had and against future excursions to their place. The cannoli and lobster tails were all made of high quality ingredients, wonderful pastry and stuffed interiors, all were excellent choices though still shy of our favorite and distant shop in the land of Connecticut, Meriano’s. We will definitely go back and would give these a good, solid and enjoyable 4/5, worth the detour or excursion.

NEW LENS

Holding a vessel initially and fundamentally crafted for function is a moment of awakening, realizing that within the details of the form, structure and surface resides an entire culture’s spiritual and aesthetic transition which is alone, the quiet privilege of the potter. The evolution of the Japanese teabowl, or chawan, is not a story of sudden invention, but one of radical adoption, evolution and considered creation. It is at its core a story, centuries in the making of how an unassuming, utilitarian Korean rice bowl, like the Ido chawan, was discovered and focused on as a paragon later to be elevated from the communal kitchen to the absolute pinnacle of Japanese aesthetic philosophy within the distinctly Japanese ritual of chanoyu.    

In the beginning, the earliest days of the increasingly formalized tea gatherings, the dominant aesthetic prioritized perfection, in short and due course the ruling elite favored flawless, prized Chinese vessels known as karamono  (Chinese things). These imports were symmetrical, clad in immaculate celadon or dark, glossy tenmoku glazes and due to their perfection and exotic nature they were objects of prestige, commanding authority through their unblemished forms. As the tea masters, most notably Sen no Rikyū, began to reshape the ritual into something beyond prestige and elitism into a contemplative practice of profound mindfulness, the sense of the perfect rapidly lost their spiritual resonance. The early and formulative masters sought a spiritual and aesthetic connection that was intimate and unpretentious, where the goal shifted to searching inside one’s self as a bi-product of the ceremony.    

This departure is where chajin found this connection in the Korean Ido style chawan and other rustic and unpretentious vessels, the embracement of the wabi-sabi culture. Bowls that were favored were likely thrown by anonymous craftsmen as simple, everyday domestic ware for food and again, initially these bowls arrived in Japan without any fanfare or artistic pretense waiting to be “discovered” and re-accessed. The early teabowls were rough, their foot rings were often coarse, their glazes uneven, sometimes pooling into accidental droplets or cracking over the surface, they bore the visible markings of a rapid and casual making on the wheel throw where slight asymmetries/ irregularities like ridges created by throwing and distortions from the heat of the wood kiln all added to, contributed to this new aesthetic preference.    

As their exposure grew, tea masters sought out these pieces, holding these bowls and recognized them for their organic, unpretentious honesty. The transition from using these pieces for daily use to impressing them as the focus of chanoyu fundamentally shifted the direction of Japanese design, a new aesthetic was emerging and like a pebble, dropped into a pond, the ripples moved out and touched art and tradition throughout Japan. This new ritual and aesthetic birthed a preference for wabi-sabi, giving way to the appreciation to imperfection, the impermanent, and the incomplete.      

Viewed through this new lens of appreciation/ understanding, what a casual observer might dismiss as a flaw or irregularity became a focal point, prized details of meditation and contemplation. The irregularity of the rim offered a varied tactile landscape for the lips and presence and sense of volume of the vessel in the hands brought the physical and metaphysical in direct contact with one another. All of the features created shifting shadows under the dim light of a thatch-roofed tea room and the chawan became a mirror for the natural world: unforced, slightly weathered, and entirely unique.   

This shift altered Japanese ceramic and many other crafts productions indefinitely giving way to indigenous creation instead of relying solely on copying Chinese symmetry, local kilns like Raku, Shino, and Oribe began intentionally crafting vessels that embraced and revered the accidental and the austere through manipulation and intent, striving for those characteristics. The Korean rice bowl acted as both mirror and lens to the Japanese eye reveling that true beauty does not demand perfection of surface and form but rather, beauty resides in the quiet honesty and nature of raw materials, the hand of the maker, and the soft, weathered patina that comes with time and dedicated human touch.        

By way of this long-winded introduction and not exactly Ido related, looking back into the past, this chawan captures the essence and flavor of modern Ki-Seto, where the essentials of the Momoyama tradition is reinterpreted without losing its ancient soul. In this Hayashi Shotaro Ki-Seto Chawan, we witness an extraordinary display of this balance where the faceted wall profile provides a crisp, contemporary presence, a structure that commands the space effortlessly. The classic matte glaze surface punctuated with copper tanpan is expertly achieved here, catching the light with a soft, understated glow, presenting surface and form that effortlessly shifts back and forth between what has been and what can be in this century’s old tradition. 

What makes Shotaro’s vision so compelling is his control over classic Ki-Seto accents as the deep, weeping green copper (tanpan) splashes bleed down the facets with a sense of deliberate spontaneity and purpose, balanced with the pairing of the diffuse dark iron scorch marks that provide historical depth. Peering into the interior the interior continues to   reveal the soft matt surface which reflects a certain amount of volume back to the user. Finally, the unglazed foot in Hayashi Shotaro Ki-Seto chawan gives way to the raw clay and hints of clay now removed, exposing a perfectly crafted kodai, both pedestal and anchor. Modern masters like Shotaro remind us that we are merely temporary curators of a living, evolving tradition where chance encounters last long beyond the moment.

THE FIRST

There is always a first when moving on from test pods and thrown, small cylinders and this was the first, successful Hongyo-yaki influenced piece. The bowl was thrown out of white stoneware as the surface seems to work best on this clay, it was faceted to add motion and verticality to the piece and then glazed. The surface consists of an even clear glaze over which the secondary glaze is applied followed up by a thin wash and then a thick wash which is the runny, droozy, deep green that easily makes its way all the way down the foot and onto the firing plinth. I realized these pieces would run like crazy and just a simple Dremel adjustment evens out the foot to smooth pedestal. I know I have mentioned this before but this is loosely based on a large Hachi that I saw many years back, Hongyo-yaki by Mizuno Hanjiro. I have since this piece made about a dozen of more pieces and one of the more classic teabowls will be in an upcoming international teabowl show. Now that I am beginning to get a handle on this surface, I need to use it on larger pieces, perhaps a covered jar, a water jar or a mallet vase?

THE FIELD STONE

This is one of those pottery adjacent posts, so remember, you have all been warned.  

Standing within the quiet solitude of the tea room and to some small degree both commanding and orchestrating the space, the low folding screen, furosaki byōbu, serves not merely as a physical boundary separating the kettle from the host, but as an invitation into a meditative and quieted world. Painted and crafted by Kishimoto Kennin (1934–2022), he was an artist revered for his formidable mastery over intense and purposeful wood firings and raw, shizen-yu surface and glazed ware alike, this work illustrates a different facet of his artistic soul, an exploration into two dimensions. Where his pottery is defined by traditional and innovative glazes, visceral surfaces, dramatic atmospheric transformations inside the kiln, his ink painting and calligraphy reveal a gentle, self-deprecating warmth, a charm from time long passed.

The rich, lyrical calligraphy which dances across the screen presents a contemplative reflection on rustic life, a dedication to creation and quiet devotion:

“The sun rises within the potter’s wheel,

The small bird sings to the voice of clay,

And the field stone becomes the Buddha.”

The screen is completed with the signature to the extreme left, Sanzan Tojin (Mountain Potter) alongside his seal, the unpretentious and casual text is accompanied by a charming, yet understated ink sketch depicting a Buddhist monk nestled along a quiet stream. The contemplative inscription captures the heart of Zen aesthetic philosophy: the extraordinary revealed through the humble and ordinary. The constant spinning of the wheel mirror the rising sun, the song of a wild bird harmonizes with the potter at work, and a simple stone resting in an open field transforms into a object of quiet reverence and distraction from the mundane.      

Though most notably celebrated for his personal journey reviving the raw power of medieval Iga stoneware, works celebrated for their fierce landscapes of all-natural ash and idiosyncratic bold forms, as this tea screen makes perfectly clear, Kishimoto was far from a single-tradition artisan. Establishing a studio and refuge high in the mountains near Toki,deep in his personal isolation, he moved seamlessly across classical Japanese ceramic genres. He brought equal mastery to kannyu crackle-glazed celadons, Shino, Oribe, and Ki-Seto wares.     

In many respects, his creative life was defined by this breadth, fluidly translating the heavy impact of his clay work into delicately painted screens and brushwork with equal mastery and energy. In the context of chanoyu (the tea ceremony), this screen functions as a peaceful backdrop that centers both host and guest. By allowing this screen to frame its space we are instilled with a gentle reminder that spirit, hand, and nature are forever linked.

SYNTHESIS

Illustrated is a vivid Oni-Shino teabowl by Tsukigata Akihiko where a palpable, visceral tension exists between classical form and a surface born of a rather chaotic thermal transformation. The vessel’s noble, Ido inspired posture rises with a bold, expanding silhouette, lifting with purpose from a pedestal like and strongly defined foot ring (kodai) to a wide rim. Unlike passive, uniform bowls, Akihiko shapes a contour that flows and is imbued with a distinct structural presence, its outward flare is consciously executed with an intentional power that is bowl pleasing to the eye and exudes a sense of calculated confidence.     

The Oni-Shino surface of feldspar, iron and ash is drama incarnate, presenting a rich field of visual play, a landscape of variation and abstraction in three dimensions a successor to the master and a continuation of the legacy born of fire and clay. There is a dense network of intentional kannyu crazing, like organic spiderwebs spread across a pale, translucent feldspathic glaze, broken by rich passages of deep, rich iron and ash in motion, a clay canvas made into living panorama. Dark iron drips cascade down the shoulder, contrasting against subtle blushes of peach and cool celadon-tinged greens where the glaze gathers thickest where gravity and high-fire intensity has pitted and crazed the surface, creating a tactile object where potter, clay, glaze and flame engage in fierce aggressive dialogue.    

This expressive intensity directly inherits and builds upon the legacy and teaching of his father, Tsukigata Nahiko. Where Nahiko pioneered the unbridled, primal force of Oni-Shino and Oni-Iga through monumental determination of spirit and fierce sculptural conviction, Akihiko has channeled that ancestral fire into a refined balance of power and intimacy. He retains the master’s reverence for the unpredictable alchemy of the kiln, the heavy wood-ash deposits, the melted and running iron and thick, cascading glass-like streams while instilling a slightly more fluid, contemporary rhythm into the bowl's profile.  

Ultimately, Tsukigata Akihiko does not merely replicate his father’s idiom, he honors the legacy by pushing the boundaries of the Oni-Shino glaze dynamics. This chawan stands as a stark example and compelling synthesis of an inherited artistic lineage and journey toward individual mastery, where all of the raw elemental forces coalesce to create a deeply resonant vessel for tea.          

“This Oni series of tea bowls recreates the original Japanese Shino ware fired approximately 400 years ago in a anagama, resulting in a variety of colors achieved through kiln transformation. I, (Tsukigata) Akihiko, still operate with that "oni" spirit as my foundation, driven by my creative philosophy and drive and I continue my passionate creative activities at [exhibitions] throughout Japan. This (work) is reminiscent of the Momoyama period pottery and tea ceremony ceramics that were enjoyed by warlords of Japan's Sengoku period, seeking solace in their art. That is truly Anagama art work.*” Tsukigata Akihiko 10/2026 

(*This quote was translated from Japanese to English and as such, is as close to the original meaning as is possible.)  

(Gallery photo of Tsukigata Akihiko being interviewed was provided by the artist.)

HOW GREEN WAS MY VALLEY

Perhaps because I am a product of too much TV, Movies and music, as soon as I pulled this bowl out of the kiln my mind went to the classic 1941 film, HOW GREEN WAS MY VALLEY where everything finds its relationship to some form of media or another. This bowl is a wan-gata style bowl, thrown and classically tooled on the wheel out of a white stoneware before being given its surface marching orders. Using a very dependable clear as the first glaze, it is then dipped in a secondary glaze after drying completely lest “bad stuff” end up plaguing the pot. Once the second glaze was dry, it was sprayed with a thin wash and then had a thick and yes, very runny wash added to the surface it is at this point that I have no choice but to give over to heat and serendipity as the glaze will go where it goes and there is no last-minute interventions.        

In this picture you are looking into the interior where multiple cascading trails have run into the bottom of the bowl and where they mingle, besides some other interesting little details it has create some shimmering, dark crystals. I will admit this Hongyo-yaki inspired work is a bit in-your-face but as you look at the flow, movement and variegation, maybe it is a bit like a fungus and will grow on you if you give it some time, I know it has for me.    

"There is no fence nor hedge around time that is gone..." Huw Morgan  

THE WILD WEST

Anyone who was active on the internet back in the very early days of eBay can testify, these times were the wild west of collecting. In truth, you never knew what you may find and if you would even get it if you won it. Though of no great value and one of a great number of these carvings, this is our Ainu bear, typical in style and carving though a bit more expressive than some. I would like to think this has a cautionary and illuminating story, we purchased it off eBay way back, maybe 2000 or so. It cost $19.99 and $12 shipping from Japan and was bid/ won from one of a small handful of Japanese dealers who were omnipresent at the time, they were the sole source on eBay for buying direct from Japan. The auction was bare bones and devoid of any description other than “wood bear” and four or five pictures so when it arrived and it was over 18" across, we were more than a bit surprised. It was wrapped up in padded paper and then in craft paper. covered over in packing tape so it looked like a mummy, well a mummy of a bear. I had to surgically cut it out of the packing to keep from scratching or damaging it. When I think about those early days, this auction and this bear always are front and center.

BURAKKU HORU

In the structure of this simple, elegant Iga guinomi a recognizable universe unfolds where we encounter an age-old synthesis of high-fire tradition and deliberate, sculptural distortion dating back to the Momoyama days. The form immediately arrests the eye, refusing the simple symmetry of the wheel-thrown standard, carefully distorted, the oval rim is a powerful echo of the classical kutsu-gata chawan, but condensed here into the intimate scale of a sake vessel all the while its proportions masquerading as a miniaturized teabowl. Kojima Yosuke has not merely mimicked a tea bowl, he has translated its expansive, asymmetrical presence into a potent miniature and this considered choice reveals a deep respect for historical precedent, yet by scaling the 'distorted shoe' down to the guinomi. The rim flares unevenly, creating distinct focal points that invite the lip, while a strongly carved lower body and sharply defined foot contrast dramatically with the organic movement above, providing a grounded anchor for an ambitious and unpretentious vessel.    

As a result of experience and/or happenstance, the surface treatment further bridges generational techniques while echoing a developing voice and some degree of restraint. Moving into the interior, the viewer is met by a striking, deep pool of natural bidoro wood-ash, a bit like a “burakku-horu” (black hole) at the center of this universe which has melted at extreme temperatures in the anagama kiln, settling into the bottom, reflecting light like a still pool of liquid trapped in for all time. This vitrified jewel is a direct inheritance from the intense, multi-day firings perfected by his father, Kojima Kenji, yet Yosuke’s handling of the exterior shows a highly disciplined control. The outer walls display quintessential Iga characteristics, slightly rough, exposed feldspar inclusions punctuate the clay adding to the condensed landscape and adding somewhat to the texture. Rather than allowing a chaotic, heavy crust of fly-ash to obscure and dominate the form, potter and flame have conspired to create a perpetually wet surface that is as appealing to the eye as it is the hand.          

As you flip over the guinomi you are immediately struck by the beautiful, rich bidoro droplet, like a small marble that absorbs light and vision into its darkness. The drip locked in time is almost as large as the kodai and though it is slightly raised, the piece still rests comfortably enough on a flat surface to be both a curiosity and functional at the same moment. On point, the kodai on this guinomi is well thought out, cut and expressed, whether small sake cup or larger chawan, the proportions work well in either instance.       

It is clear this deliberate contrast prevents this piece from devolving into raw, unchecked drama settling for a more distinct and thought-out multi-act play and, in the end, it honors Kojima Kenji’s mastery over flame and firng while asserting Yosuke’s own edited, quieter aesthetic sensibility. In both form and glaze, this guinomi stands as an exceptionally articulate statement, a conversant bridge between past and present, father and son, and the expansive world of a modern tradition and the focused world of sake.

SAFURON-IRO TETSUYU

I am reasonably sure I have made it clear that I really enjoy a guinomi that mimics the proportions, attitude and presence of a chawan and as I make smaller cups, sippers and what-have-you, I try to capture that same sense in my own work. Illustrated is a small saffron iron glazed piece, which I have been calling “safuron-iro tetsuyu” which to my ear sounds a bit better. Thrown out of a white stoneware, I added thick, impasto slip creating a gear/ cog like look that makes its way around the small sipper. Once bisque, it is glazed in two glazes one over the other and then two very thin glazes, almost washes are atomized over parts of the top of the cup and interior. Being a rather runny surface, the channels direct the movement at a nice angle and to some degree slow down the impending disaster as evidenced by the errant runny drip that has made its way to the foot.Though this is bigger than your average guinomi, excepting perhaps Kumano, it is smaller than my teabowl forms but I would like to think it has the same visual in proportion and since that is what I am shooting form, who am I to complain, that will come later.

RESONANCE

Meaning absolutely no slight to the potter and his skills in throwing and painting, I find this guinomi is much more about the evocative imagery than the form or purpose of the piece. That being said, it is also, exactly the imagery and the purpose that elevate this little gem to a somewhat different level of object. As the exterior profile of this guinomi asserts itself with a rather unpretentious authority, its dark, earthy nature and wide-flaring rim project a grounded and inviting presence. Once you have surveyed the basic façade of this piece your attentions spills into the interior revealing a surprising, light-filled dialogue between surface brushwork and sparse, direct imagery.        

Made and decorated by Hoki Masakazu, a potter whose mastery lies in bridging the tactile grit of clay into a harmonious outcome with the refined narrative power of classical calligraphy and overglaze enamel work. The potter does not treat the vessel merely as a canvas; rather, the thrown form and decorative execution operate as a singular, unified entity, balancing a raw, rustic texture and form with deliberate, energetic, even spontaneous brushwork, demonstrating a deep respect for traditional Japanese studio pottery while maintaining a fresh, expressive hand.        

The interior surface features a solitary crescent of gold luster hanging applied along the extreme confines of the lip, evoking a luminous full moon emerging from a darkened sky. Over a thin field of silvered luster, the potter has brushed lines of verse in deep green glaze pigments creating a poem of animated verse. The surface tension between the simple image and the quick calligraphic brushwork creates an extraordinary spatial depth within this small, modest hand-held vessel. The text inside the cup comes from one of the most famous poems in Chinese literature, "Drinking Alone Under the Moon" (月下獨酌) by the Tang Dynasty poet Li Bai (701–762). The calligraphy brushed across the concave interior translate to: 

Among flowers, a pot of wine,

I drink alone, with no friend near.

Raising my cup, I invite the bright moon,

Together with my shadow, we become three.

花間一壺酒

獨酌無相親

舉杯邀明月

對影成三人 

The thematic resonance of this poem combined with this vessel specifically intended for sake is well considered and profound. Li Bai’s poem transforms solitude into a moment of communion, a quiet, contemplative celebration where the drinker, the moon, and one's shadow share an intimate connection and by placing this text directly inside the interior basin, Hoki creates a ritualistic interaction for the user. As sake fills the cup, the gilded moon seems to float upon the liquid's surface like a reflection, and as the drink is finished, the calligraphic lines reveal themselves once more, inviting the user into Li Bai’s poetic universe and sense of completeness.       

This thorough integration of text, minimalist image and functional vessel elevates the piece beyond its simple utility. Hoki Masakazu transforms a humble sake cup into a vessel for quiet contemplation, where modern form and surface along with the poetic spirit of the ancient T’ang Dynasty converge effortlessly in one’s hand.