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. 

CURIOUSITY

Illustrated is what can only be described as a classic, Kyo-yaki mizusashi, wait, what? In fact, this particular piece is created in the distinctive Haiyu Karatsu style, a type of Karatsu ware that has been produced in and around the Karatsu region of Saga Prefecture since ancient times and best known for its earthy styling, natural aesthetic and its practical functionality. However, this particular mizusashi is not a product of Karatsu but rather of the Kyoto area created by Morioka Kasho, a Kyo-yaki master potter known for his curiosity, versatility and ability to work with various styles and techniques of which this more rugged pot is a classic example.    

What initially draws the eye to this piece is the striking blending of a classic, medieval form and a simple but enticing surface where flowing ash and shade of subtleties all come together on a single form. I think it is rather clear that the form itself pays homage to late medieval archetypes likely best derived from primal and rustic origins where a casual posture and sensibility are another part of Morioka’s visual vocabulary. The lugs are both sturdy and practical, but they also have an organic quality that makes them feel as though they grew naturally from the body of the pot while disrupting the vertical sweep of the form. The custom lacquer lid though consciously functional adds a sense of nobility and mystery to the pot and the interior functional completing an elegant design that complements the complex form of the pot.  The fluid glaze is applied over the textured surface of the clay, creating a landscape of tiny craters and ridges where areas flow with a rich sky-blue down part of the pot. The crystalline blue and white areas are particularly intriguing, looking almost like frost patterns creating a late winter illusion to the mizusashi where lingering ice melts away and down the surface. This glaze, created through a process of firing that encourages the growth of crystals, is a hallmark of Morioka Kasho's work, and it is a testament to his deep understanding of materials and firing techniques.   

Based on his overall body of work, Morioka Kasho is not content to pursue a single style or idiom, instead it would seem like it is within his nature to explores a variety of forms and finishes, from the austere elegance of rustic and traditional chadogu to the more flamboyant and decorative styles of Kyōto longstanding Kyo-yaki. This diversity is most likely a reflection of his own creative spirit, which refuses to be defined by a single tradition. He is a master potter who understands that true artistry lies in the ability to adapt and evolve, to seek out new directions and expressions of his inner voice to create work that is both beautiful in every variety and functional. This mizusashi is a perfect example of his versatility, a piece rooted in tradition, but it also has a modern sensibility that makes it feel vital and relevant, a testament to the enduring power of Japanese pottery, and to the skill and artistry of a curious potter.

PARDON THE INTERUPTION

The idea to this form was simple enough, I keep looking for ways to interrupt the vertical aspect of a piece. In this case, a teabowl was planned to be faceted and I went with this rather noticeable channel running horizontally around the bowl breaking the tension of the flat, uneven planes of the piece and allowing for something different to happen with the running glaze. In some respects, this has the kake-wake style look, top half shows off an iron created amber while the bottom retains much of the original Oribe green coloring but the channel has filled with glaze, collected into a rich, dark collar around the bowl with accents of a flowing blue. The faceting of the planes around the bowl show off a nice texture that works well with the transparent style glazes where all of these effects have much more to do with gravity and thermodynamics then anything I could have mapped out but if past is prologue in any sense, I know just enough to realize, layer enough glazes and washes and there will be movement, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot and on those occasions, sometimes way too much, this seems to have landed in the “Goldilocks’ zone”.

SPIRE

If you look broadly at the work of Ikai Yuichi you will see the distinct mastery of wood ash (haiyu) dominating many of his surfaces. By tracing his formulative and disciplined years under the guidance of his teacher, Living National Treasure Shimizu Uichi. Uichi who in turn revolutionized a large swath of ceramic art through his in depth investigation of natural mineral glazes and raw wood ashes, instilling in his disciples an unwavering commitment to understanding material and temperature. Rather than treating glaze as a cursory cosmetic actor in this three-dimensional drama, Uichi taught that fire and ash must interact directly with the clay's structural volume to reveal its innate character.     

Ikai Yuichi inherited a profound sensibility from his master, where exploration and experimentation transform classical forms and architypes through an expressive, tactile surface language and create vision of the potter. In this totemic and spire-like kinuta hanaire (mallet-shaped flower vase), the historic and traditional milieu of the mallet silhouette is reinvented with a deliberate and almost aggressive tension. The tall, faceted neck stands upright against a robust, faceted lower body, where sharp vertical cuts give the form an unmistakable posture and highly tactile lines that look like they have had clay torn away to present the surface.      

Ikai’s use and application of this luminescent haiyu glaze highlights this architectural form further narrated by sparse use of a rich iron under the glaze adding movement to a pot seemingly in flux. The wood ash pools into pale, emerald like celadon-tinged greens across the upper facets, breaking dark where the iron content beneath reacts with the atmospheric heat. Toward the base, warm, earthy flashes of exposed raw fired clay are yet another tool used to bring a heightened drama to this multi-act play of form, surface and intention partially brought to life by the unpredictable nature of serendipity and firing.    

Through this considered synthesis of provocative form and simple glaze, Ikai Yuichi pays tribute to Shimizu Uichi’s legacy while establishing his own creative voice. The final vessel balances, even wrestles with restraint balancing its dramatic material presence while creating a powerful vessel that elevates form and surface while clearly commanding the immediate space. 

KO-TSUBO?

Typically, ko-tsubo* by the visionary Tsukigata Nahiko are not merely a vessel; it is at some level an act of defiance against accepted tradition and the status-quo, all in, it is a compact self-contained universe of raw power showing off the potential of Oni-Shino. To understand the Oni-Shino variation is to appreciate a dramatic departure from the soft, snowy-white glazes of traditional Momoyama Shino where material, firing and concept has been stretched to the limit. Through what appears a bit like alchemy, lots of feldspar, iron, suitable clay, and the relentless fury and velocity of an anagama wood firing, Tsukigata pioneered his very own "devilish" aesthetic. It is a style defined by violent contrasts from bubbling feldspathic glazes, scorched earth, carbon entrapment, molten iron and heavy ash deposits that leave the clay encrusted, scarred, and completely untamed like the very concept itself.       

Looking at Tsukigata’s ubiquitous ko-tsubo I am meet with a question, how can a piece so small pot, intimate in nature and capable of resting in one’s palm command such an immense visual presence? Clearly this form is a triumph of scale over size as the pot possesses a monumental attitude, refusing to go quietly and demanding respect and attention of far larger pots. Look at the robust, even sturdy form where swelling belly tapers into a stout, heavily textured neck and a flared, uneven rim. This is not a delicate, passive container; it is an expansive force dictated to by visual spontaneity and a casual air. The sheer physical density of the shape, coupled with the dramatic tension of its profile, gives it the gravitas of an object tenfold (?) its size. It commands and occupies space with absolute authority, demanding our full, undivided attention.        

The visual and even tactile magic, however, lies in the intense, landscape of its surface painted with fire and ash where we are treated to a visceral interaction of feldspar and iron and the natural ash that changes the surface into some other-worldly and even alien visage. As you roam around the three-dimensional form, the narrative shifts, revealing intricate speckled networks of dark carbon and natural green ash vitrification, accented by warm blush-orange scorched marks on a rugged, craggy base punctuated by a myriad of gem-like ash jewels ever so slightly protruding from the surface.         

In a word, the marvel of this pot and Oni-Shino in general is unpredictability, showing off landscapes of near endless discovery and possibilities. The truth is that Tsukigata didn’t simply glaze a pot but rather he allowed the kiln's chaotic atmosphere to interact and write its signature on the clay and glaze, harnessing the intensity and irrefutable energy of the fire. In this tiny, gem of a pot, Tsukigata Nahiko has corralled a formidable, restless energy of potter and process, proving that the most profound ceramic statements need not be grand in scale, only fiercely genuine and grand in their execution.   

(* Back when I was first acquainted with the ko-tsubo of Tsukigata, I wondered was the nomenclature ambiguous or intentional with purpose and it became clear to me that this is not either/ or, small pot or tokkuri. While both forms are small, narrow-necked vessels that frequently cross paths in the world of traditional Japanese ceramics, the fundamental distinction between a ko-tsubo (small jar) and a tokkuri (sake flask) lies in their original intent, structural proportions, and general consideration of the mouth and lip.  The tokkuri is an explicitly functional vessel designed primarily for use in serving warm or room-temperature sake. As such, its anatomy prioritizes fluid dynamics: it typically features a tight, pinched, or gently flared lip designed specifically to guide a clean, controlled pour without dripping, balanced by an elongated neck and a body carefully considered to comfortable single-handed pouring. In direct contrast, a ko-tsubo translates literally to "small jar," originating historically as an all-purpose utility container used for preserving seeds, tea, oil, pigments, or medicinal herbs rather than serving liquids at the table. Because storage requires some manner of secure sealing, a ko-tsubo often features a broader, stouter mouth rim which is sometimes rolled, flat, or subtly collared—to facilitate tying down a cloth or paper cover with cord. Furthermore, while a tokkuri favors a balanced, fluid silhouette optimized for repeated handling and balance when filled with liquid, a ko-tsubo tends to exhibit a more grounded, bulbous posture with an usually obvious lower center of gravity and a shorter, thicker neck clearly not made to participate in the unfettered flow of liquid, reflecting its heritage as a static container meant to rest securely on a shelf or floor. Over centuries of tea culture and contemporary appreciation, many historical ko-tsubo have been recontextualized as flower vases albeit small ones or even makeshift sake decanters, yet their distinguishing mark remains this tension between the refined, pour-focused lip of the tokkuri and the utilitarian, formidable and sturdy mouth and stable body of the ko-tsubo at which, in my opinion, Tsukigata excelled at.)