A BRIDGE

My first impression when I encountered this yuteki temmoku mizusashi by Kimura Morikazu was that I was witnessing some form of time travel, a dialogue between ancient Song Dynasty perfection and the 20th-century Japanese ceramic sensibility at the very same instance. Kimura Morikazu dedicated a life to the pursuit of iron and as such was revered for his masterly command of a multitude of Chinese inspired high-fire glazes where he resurrected an array of iconic traditions born in the kilns of Fujian and recontextualizes it into a vital, functional focal point for the tea ceremony.       

Over centuries, the Chinese archetype for oil-spot (yuteki) Temmoku was defined by near formulaic and strict symmetry, aristocratic refining, and precise geometry, all materialized into the intimate proportions of the Song tea bowl (chawan). In the original Jian kilns, iron-saturated slip would boil during peak reduction firing, pushing trapped gas bubbles to the surface that dissolved into silvery, metallic iridescent spots upon cooling and the classic Chinese ideal valued this visual phenomenon as a celestial microcosm, a controlled miracle suspended within dark, dark depths punctuating form, surface and atmosphere.         

Where Morikazu and many Japanese potters departs from the imperial Chinese archetype, however, is in the rigidity and formula of scale, silhouette, and spirit. By borrowing an idiom and super-imposing its ideal transferring from the delicate bowl form onto a robust, Chinese influenced but decidedly Japanese mizusashi, Morikazu expands the canvas into a presence of volume and specificity to a Japanese ritual. The form of the vessel is defined by its expanse outward with honest, generous presence, allowing the dense matrix of metallic iridescence to punctuate across a sweeping, curved horizon like a clear night’s sky. The glaze here is not merely a surface decoration; it envelopes the pure form with thousands of shimmering, iridescent droplets like raindrop creating a symphony across a pool of dark water. 

This transformation of the simple form and noble surface reveals the distinctly Japanese ceramic sensibility. While Chinese classicism pursued pristine, effortless harmony, Japanese ceramic tradition elevates wabi, the tactile, living warmth of the hand and the spirit. Notice the subtle soft curvature of the vessel, the lip, and the accompanying ceramic lid topped with a simple, grounded finial. Rather than placing a lacquered wood lid atop the jar, Morikazu created a matching ceramic lid, acting to best unify the vessel into a singular, self-contained statement of high-fire iron glaze mastery.       

In the quiet intimacy of the tearoom or even on a shelf as an object of display and contemplation, this mizusashi does not demand theatrical attention, instead, it draws the eye into its shadowed depths, revealing subtle gradations of brown, rust, and silver as light shifts across its surface. This particular mizusashi and pots of this nature stand as a bridge between worlds, paying homage to the rigorous art and chemistry of ancient China while embracing wholeheartedly the often quiet, grounded spirit of Japanese studio ceramics.    

“The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.”  Walt Whitman

LONG-STANDING

 

Illustrated is a simple paddled stoneware jar lounging in the mid-afternoon sunlight that I showed as greenware a week or so ago though I likely had made it a week or so early than that. I made this jar with three lids instead of a single one to try to give it several different looks and the option for the new owner to decide which lid they like the best for looks or use. I went with a partial Kuro-Oribe treatment where the upper portion is five glazes in total while the lower part is limited to two and yet, it still ran a small amount which cleaned up without any loss. I was lucky with this pot as it was still pinging from having just come out of the kiln before it was purchased and as of yesterday is now on its way cross-country to its new home. I am not sure if it will sound lazy or intentional but I really enjoy making smaller, manageable sized pieces. They can be held, admired, moved around with easy and in general can find some nook or cranny to fill with some degree of ease even in the home of a long-standing pottery collector. I guess at the end of the day, I make the scale of pot I most enjoy and love to collect for myself, say, mizusashi size or a bit bigger.

AT HOME

I had some spare time today after unloading a kiln, packing up pots to get shipped out tomorrow and plotting my next moves in the studio so I took a few minutes to chat with Bob. I asked Bob to take an existing picture, in this case of a purely divine kohiki bottle by Yoshimura Masaya and make it look a little more at home than in most of my more formal photos. After asking for some specifics, this photo is what I arrived at and honestly the atmosphere is perfect for this simple and elemental slipware bottle from the surrounds to the lightings, all based on my input but created with the magic of technology and this is where the mind, art and vision all come together and create a fuller sense of context without having to travel to Japan, stay at a ryokan and take photos of lots of pots. Though I am wary of AI in general, there are some uses that make life just a bit easier and certainly less expensive.

FINAL BRUSH

This chawan is a formidable and classic example of Oni-Shino as interpreted by Tamaoki Yasuo, though using the same descriptor, his style differs from Tsukigata Nahiko while pushing the boundaries of traditional Mino ware into a realm of intentional, rugged visual reimagining. To best understand this bowl, one must understand Tamaoki and his body of work, whose career has been defined by a deep technical mastery of the Gifu prefecture’s clay and a philosophical commitment to the untamed side of the Shino and Oribe tradition.  

Born in 1941 in Tajimi, the epicenter of Mino-yaki, Tamaoki Yasuo was designated an Important Intangible Cultural Property holder by Gifu Prefecture for his traditional Shino while pursuing more modern, even avante-garde interpretations of the idiom. Unlike many who aim for the milky, smooth glaze typical of classic Shino, Tamaoki sought a more aggressive and bolder surface to add to his repertoire of form and surfaces.  In this particular chawan, we see the hallmark of his technique: the use of mogusa clay, a soft, sandy local clay that is notoriously difficult to work but yields a unique, porous texture when fired shapes the thickish walls building the structure, the pliable canvas for his highly animated Oni-Shino. Through trial and error, Tamaoki developed this thick feldspathic glaze that and under its trial by fire, develops the creation of cells that wrap the surface in movement and a distinct, demanding visage. 

This particular presentation paints a rich, other-worldly landscape which gives off ant almost alien presence as deep iron moves across the surface rich in iron and contained within fine lines of feldspar and metallic netting. The dark, tectonic streaks suggest a violent geological process rather than perfectly executed plan, all the while paying homage to the ferocity and intensity of flame and temperature which become the potter’s final brush. This is the essence of his Oni-Shino: it is a beauty found in chaos and the unpredictable. 

Tamaoki’s work is a testament to the power of controlled imperfection, the profound with a spark of primal authenticity. In his process his intent is to give over once glazed and allow the kiln its own say, it is this collaboration that pushes the work and surface as far as it must. This chawan stands as a testament to that promethean struggle, his contribution to the Shino idiom is this refusal to be constrained by tradition as it was, as it is, representing a fierce departure from the serene, often conservative aesthetics often associated with Momoyama-period revivals. Through decades of testing, experimenting and maintaining a focused dedication, craft breaks the boundary from craft to art, ensuring that each chawan is its own singular record of a violent, transformative event, though connected, unique and singular in each encounter, a narrative that is hard to forget.

TEMPERATURE

I posted a similar covered jar a short while back, one that sold almost as quickly as it came out of the kiln, still warm and carrying on its cooling symphony. To that end, I wanted to make at least another to have around a bit and opted to make this one a bit larger in stoneware instead of white stoneware and with three lids instead of just the one. I should also note that Judith Salomon reminded me that the multi-lid thing was something Val Cushing did quite often and is likely where I picked it up but had forgotten the origins. At any rate, this jar is now bisque and glazed and waiting on being fired all decked out in my Oribe with several washes of various iron over the lids and upper portion of the jar. Using an atomizer, I am always concerned about over spraying the surface and totally losing the paddled texture, time and temperature will tell.  

“It doesn’t matter what temperature a room is, it is always room temperature.”  Steven Wright

SIMPLE PLEASURES

I am sure everyone has had someone tell them, sometimes you just need to relish life’s simple pleasures. Maybe for some people, when and where they first heard that is likely forgotten in the mists of time but I can honestly say, I remember the very first time. When I was seven years old, I was rather ill and as such missed almost an entire school year. Luckily, there were several individuals who saw fit to help me keep up on my school work, lessons and tests so I did not fall behind. One of these caring individuals was Sister Dominica from Saint Peter’s School in Plattsburgh, NY. She would make the walk, in her late 70’s from the “nunnery” to our house, three times a week bringing lessons, reading material and whatever else I needed to keep up. She was like my own personal miracle, always kind, a bit stern at times and easy to get a grin from. I remember one day being a bit overwhelmed after a visit to the hospital and she commented about a gift I received from a nurse at CVPH Hospital, without missing a beat, Sister Dominica commented, things may seem bad, they could be worse so you need to take comfort in life’s small pleasures pointing out my small constructed battlefield of toy soldiers. I have always remembered that moment and try to keep that lesson close to home.     

Today was one of those days, despite a mediocre firing, one piece came out that I was relatively pleased with for longer than normal and a parcel arrived, quickly and at a very good price. Illustrated are ten double boxes of my favorite snack from Japan, Tomato Pretz. They were on sale at YAMI for a very good price, super reasonable shipping cost and good through the middle of 2027. I guess it is true, life’s simple pleasures, what else can you ask for, a good pot and a box full of snacks, that is just perfect for a Monday or any day that ends in Y. 

(This is in no way intended as a promotion or advertising for Yami, in recent times, it has been rather expensive to get Tomato Pretz here so when I spotted this add on Facebook on Thursday, I thought it worth the risk. I should also interject that I did mention the word, “pot” so at the very least, this post is pottery adjacent.)

HIKIMAE / RESTRAINT

To understand the legacy of Shinkai Kanzan (1912–1991) and his work, one must look beyond the mere decorative and toward the intellectual rigor he brought to Kyoto’s ceramic tradition founded on centuries of an aesthetic unique to Kyoto (Kyo-fu) which at some level relies on restraint (hikimae). Born into the esteemed Shinkai family and with an eye forged under the guidance of Shofu Yohei IV and Kiyomizu Rokubei V, Kanzan occupied a unique position in 20th-century Kyo-yaki, bridging the gap between historical refinement and the modern studio pottery movement. This classic covered jar is a perfect example of restraint, featuring the shika (deer) finial, is a quintessential example of his ability to bring classical motifs with a sophisticated, sculptural sensibility together in one pot.     

The silhouette of this jar speaks to a grounded, conservative aesthetic that remains deeply functional showcasing his technical master of the clay and glaze. The vessels possess a powerful presence, tapering elegantly to a well-defined foot that provides a lofty sense of lift without compromising stability. There is a specific attention to proportion here; the relationship between the shoulder's breadth and the lid's inset shows a master’s understanding of spatial harmony while the addition of the lugs creates a triptych of elements that act to visually center and balance the verticality of the shika finial.    >Kanzan’s surface treatment on these pieces showcases his sense of glaze wizardry showing controlled variation/ variegation where the glaze, a rich, iron-saturated amber flows effortlessly and intentionally over carved decoration that suggest the movement of grass or perhaps the texture of the forest floor. The use of this decoration is well conceived for design and purpose, allowing the glaze to pool and break, creating highlights and shadows that give the surface a tactile, three-dimensional quality. Though this appears to be rather monochrome, like most of his glazes and pottery, there are nuances and subtleties that see movement and life painted across the surface.        

The shika finial is not meant merely as ornaments; they are small sculptures in their own right and by choosing the deer, a symbol synonymous with Nara’s spiritual landscape and Japanese artistic history, Kanzan creates a bridge between the modern vessel (of the 1970s) to a centuries-old lineage. The glaze on the deer finial displays a subtle mottling, reminiscent of the results found in the wild, this adds a hint of the natural to these abstracted images, echoing the beauty of nature even on a shelf or desktop. 

In the mid-20th century, Kyoto was a melting pot, a veritable crucible of ideas and ceramic innovation where the Sodeisha group was pushing toward purely non-functional "objets," Kanzan and like-minded potters maintained a commitment to the vessel even as the concept could became a bit abstract and less straight forward. His role was that of a scholar, potter, teacher, someone who respected the traditional conservative elements and the Kyo-yaki and Kyoto ideals sought to refine his voice and vision to appeal to a new, educated contemporary audience.    

In some respects, Shinkai did not just make pots; he helped establish and curate a bridge between the past and the present where his work represents a brand of connoisseurship that values the technical aspects of ceramics as much as the final aesthetic result. By maintaining this balance, Kanzan ensured that Kyo-yaki did not become a static relic of the past, but a living, breathing art form that could accommodate personal expression while respecting the conservative standards of traditional craft. This jar and others like it remain a testament to that enduring, traditional spirit. 

CONTROLLABLE

Controllable  (kən-ˈtrō-lə-bəl); capable of being controlled 

Illustrated is a simple thrown and altered katakuchi pourer from two firings ago. Thrown round and pushed oval, a spout was pulled while still really wet and once tooled, I added a thick layer of white hakeme slip around the piece. This is pretty typical of the results I am getting with plus or minus effects unless I really go for a simpler look or a really, really runny one. I think you can see from the underside of this piece that though the glaze ran quite a bit creating a rather nice, multi-color cascade around the form, gravity was a bit impeded by the foot which is the intent and let’s be honest, the constant hope. Where multiple glazes, gravity and heat seem to come together, the results are as much a mystery as they are bonus. Though I said this surface is somewhat typical, the more I build up the surfaces the more serendipity plays a role in the final object and in this case the flowing glaze runs around the exterior and the way the surface runs from the spout into the center of the katakuchi are about as I would absolutely like them to happen even though my hand can only gently steer the outcome. I realize I have said this before but if this was completely controllable, I would have to move along and as long as there are surprises including becoming one with the firing plinths, I would not want it any other way.

 

THE GOOD

Illustrated is a slightly unusual Tamba rokkukei style chaire by Nishibata Tadashi. As is probably readily apparent is that this is an earlier work, likely from the 90s and is a wonderful study in form and surface which work in near perfect harmony with each other. The form is not what I would describe as a typical chaire form though the surface is classic Tamba and Nishibata, fire color and a wet surface surround the form with some patches of thicker ash present but what is not quite evident in the photo is the overall wetness and iridescence fumed onto the surface during the wood fired process. Between the form and firing process, just like the geological forces accrued over time, this chaire has become its own little gem where each turn of the form exposes a different but continuing landscape wrapped around this geometrically create piece. The pot is completed with a fine textured cloaked around the chaire and topped off with the purity of a fine slightly off-white lid which through careful consideration adds a completeness.          

Likely based on historical archetypes that came from China (karamono), through his handling and firing, Nishibata has created an object that is distinctly Japanese (wamono) and leaning into Tanizaki’s philosophy, the angular planes add a real sense of shadow and mystery while by used in the tea ceremony. Though this is early work, before his mature style had come into play, it is clear that his considered sense of form, purpose, function and firing collaborated, one and all to gift us this diminutive treasure for use or just a lifetime of visual pleasure where the “good” just never goes out of style.

IN THE MOUTH OF THE DRAGON

Illustrated is a quick photo I took years back of Kohyama Yasuhisa (b. 1936) who likely stands as one of the most vital figures in the contemporary Shigaraki scene if not that of all Japanese ceramics. Renowned for his part in reviving the ancient wood-firing tradition of anagama firing Kohyama is best known, especially in the West for his expanding the boundaries of sculptural form within ancient materials and techniques. Functioning and creating outside the traditional master/ pupil system, Kohyama pioneered a distinct aesthetic synthesis that bridges the unglazed, elemental heritage of historic Shigaraki ware with architectural, modern abstraction where craft and art collide.         

At the very core of Kohyama’s work and creativity is his relationship with the Earth, the local Shigaraki clay, coarse and feldspar-rich known for its durability and earthy texture. Though Kohyama did throw on the wheel, rather than exclusively relying on the potter’s wheel to fashion classic functional vessels, Kohyama developed a signature technique using a piano wire to cut, slice, and slice through thickly created and hand-built forms of clay. The immediacy and physically and visually tactile method leaves raw, subtlety rippled facets and sharp, crisp, geometric edges that mimic natural geological formations, appearing all-natural and evoking wind-sheared cliffs or tectonic plates. Many of his works features sweeping, wedge-like forms, like wind (Kaze) dynamically balanced, sometimes precariously and other times quite solidly though both challenge much of the generally accepted sense traditional symmetry of Japanese ceramic art.          

Central to his unique style is the absence of applied glazes, they are made and fired, “au-natural”, known as shizen-yu to the Japanese. To complete his work and his vision, Kohyama relies entirely on the unpredictable atmosphere of the wood-burning anagama kiln, a single-chamber tunnel kiln he helped reintroduce to the Shigaraki region in the late 1960s which is usually fired continuously over a number of days with temperatures exceeding 1,200°C, his pieces interact directly with flying ash and roaring flames where experience and serendipity work hand-in-hand.  This intense process yields natural ash glazes, where the surface shows off a pebbly like surface together with rich hiiro and thin coats of olive-green glassy deposits formed where circulating ash melts against the clay surface. The physical placement of each object or pot within the kiln becomes a precise architectural decision based on an experienced understanding of the clay, the wood, the pathway of the flame and the void that is the anagama where Kohyama orchestrates how the velocity and currents of the fire and ash will sweep across his carved planes.        

Kohyama’s work occupies a compelling middle ground flirting between vessel, object or pure sculpture. While his pieces often retain functional interior voids and volume capable of a wide array of functional duties, to some degree their monumental presence demands consideration as freestanding art, where the visual and intellectual interaction are the concluding act of this multi-part play. By allowing the intrinsic qualities of Shigaraki earth, fire, and air to dictate the final surface landscape, Kohyama achieves an organic minimalism and his work pays homage to the medieval kilns and varying traditions of Japan while putting forth a bold, contemporary voice that has earned him acclaim in major public collections worldwide.      

On a personal note, I was very fortunate to spend time with Kohyama Yasuhisa back in the early 1990s. I was working as a tech at CSU at the time and had had a variety of experiences but this exposure gave me a real understanding of how this potter worked and what it would mean for me as a potter moving forward. From the creative process, materials and firing, it was an invaluable experience and this photo shows Kohyama-san in the mouth of the dragon, loading and getting prepared for his next firing of which I am sure that have been many, many more since then!  

“Many kinds of impressions inspire me to create art; nature manifests itself in my work.”  Kohyama Yasuhisa as translated by Wakamoto Nakae (Cleveland Magazine)