THE USUAL CIRCUMSTANCES

This is another one of those possible one-off pieces where what is normally black came out this intriguing and complimentary red-brown. Thrown and slightly manipulated, the teabowl was finished off using a sharpened piece of wood to cut the foot before some slip was given a rough vertical kushime treatment. Next came my amber glaze over which was “atomized” a thickish wash of iron. As mentioned, under all the usual circumstances the surface goes to a blackish sheen and in this case it obviously did not though the temperature and atmosphere were not altered in the least. In my opinion, this color combination works well and it shows off a rich contrast between the iron and amber areas. Just my luck, another thing to try to figure out and reproduce and it's not like there isn’t enough other things to chase down. I think I will take it just one day at a time.

WIZARDRY

The description of this piece is simple enough, Shinsha mizusashi but as you look closely at the complex surface you see subtle hints of Jun ware from the Song and Yuan dynasties. Like the simple description, this simple form is full of volume, looking like it is about to burst under the tension of the form and animated surface which has several layers of depth with movement and crystals popping up through the uppermost layers, though clearly Chinese inspired, you can see and imagine the skill of a modern Japanese potter behind this work.       

This shinsha mizusashi was made by Nakajima Hitoshi, the older brother of Living national Treasure Nakajima Hiroshi and despite his untimely and early death, his skill level, sense of form and surface and his remarkable glaze wizardry shine in most encounters with his work. Nakajima Hitoshi was precise in his throwing and glazing and his forms are models of perfection where most pots show no defects of line or scale, where lids fit perfectly and feet are exactingly well cut and attended to. Despite my description and the potter’s precision, his pots are not mechanical replicas of the antecedents, his forms show a strength and determination of his particular voice and can normally be picked out of the crowd if you will. As a point to a previous blog post, Nakajima Hitoshi is another one of those “hidden gems”, a potter lesser-known outside of Japan but whose work is of such a high standard in terms of every aspect yet are blanketed in a distinctly Japanese idiom. This potter and his work deserve a rigorous visual and aesthetic inquiry as in my humble opinion, he most likely would have been Ningen Kokuho had fate not had a hand in other considerations.

RELIC

This Shigaraki henko (flat-sided flask) by Mizugaki Rikizo is a perfect example of the opposite sides of a coin idea where each side is part of the whole but presents its own unique landscape. The form itself is seemingly a classic of the Shigaraki tradition having been employed by Furutani Michio, Furutani Churoku and others to great effect. This imposing form seems engineered for use and stability creating its own volume that provides a perfect canvas or two for the elemental exchange between clay and ash pervasive in the anagama firing. Resting on a pair of sturdy integrated feet the mass of the form gets just enough lift to appear like it is hovering over the surface, despite the obvious gravity and weight of the overall piece.     

The surface is a constant reminder of the arduous and intense process, a recording of the haikaburi written across the piece where chaos and serendipity are its chapters. On the perceived face, we see this active maelstrom of activity composed of nothing but natural ash that has coalesced into a rich, scorched landscape of both wet and dry effects. The evocative palette is its own complex map of Shigaraki characteristics where the flame and ash reach across the surface and wrap around the form leaving its embrace felt on the back of the henko in a very different manner. The rear is the contrast to the face where the ash has forced its way from the edges inward, building up in areas and running across the flat plane, the clay favor is left intact in a large central area punctuated by spots of feldspar and the large shell scars that held the form up during the firing.   

Born in 1963 in Tokyo, Mizugaki Rikizo is a potter who sought out the rugged truths of wood firing and of Shigaraki, establishing his kiln in the mountains of Koka, Shiga Prefecture. His path brought him to the doorstep of the traditionalist, Rakusai Takahashi IV, immersing his study in a lineage that is tethered in many respects to the very soul of this medieval kiln site. Realizing a potter’s inability to control or even tame the fire, Mizugaki’s work shows a negotiation with the kiln rather than his dominance over it, utilizing long, grueling firings that last up to a week, where clay and potter are pushed to their emotional and structural limit to achieve this specific degree of surface development.   

In this slab henko, the kiln has become co-conspirator, the accessory after the fact if you will. Through experience and a willingness to surrender some amount of ego and control, the potter allows the pot to become a stark reminder of the vessel's origin as earth before it was transformed into this animated relic, a testament to the modern Shigaraki tradition.

BUMPTY-BUMP

This teabowl came out of my most recent firing and the surface is just about what I was shooting for but with most things, there is a caveat of sorts. Back when I was going to bisque this piece, I bumped it, ever so slightly and decided to go ahead and bisque it anyway. Out of the bisque it looked and sounded fine so I used it as the test for the saffron and Hagi-white glazes along with several iron washes atomized over the surface. When the kiln was open and unloading began, at first glace it looked like exactly what I was after until I flipped it around, big “crackatowa” running down the lip leaving me a bit deflated. As I mentioned, the surface is coming along nicely on this bowl but in the very next firing with the very same treatment on a very similar vertical bowl, the end result was a bit underwhelming. Is there a moral to this story? I don’t know but maybe next time be more mindful of exactly how I spray on each wash and certainly don’t make a habit of bumping greenware. I am not sure if that will get me to where I want to go but it is likely one more step in the right direction.       

"If we are facing in the right direction, all we have to do is keep on walking." (Buddhist? Proverb)

PC&F

Illustrated is a rather quintessential medieval style Shigaraki vessel created by Hoshino Ryosai which in many ways acts as a witness of a deep, personal and profound dialogue across time, conducted entirely in the silent, an innate vocabulary between potter, clay and fire. Whether intentionally or through serendipity, Hoshino Ryosai’s tsubo acts as a living bridge, pulling together the utilitarian depth of Japan's medieval past with the self-conscious, contemplative artistry of the modern era. Through years of exhaustive experience and experimentation, the very spirit of the Shigaraki tsubo tradition percolates through the form and “as time goes by” adds incrementally to a vital and vivid tradition.         

In the medieval period, feudal Shigaraki wares were born out of absolute necessity where these large, robust storage jars were the workhorses of agrarian life, designed to hold seed, water, and grain, the essential elements of survival and prosperity. Yet, as the centuries advanced, the early tea masters focused their attention on these unpretentious vessels and discovered an unexpected, quiet nobility. What was once vessels of pure function became the ultimate expression of wabi-sabi, an aesthetic celebrating the beauty of impermanence and imperfection. The natural ash glazes, painting their landscapes on this voluminous canvas where swelling shoulders made way for thick and visually enticing necks, mouths and lips, were not calculated by a painter's brush but given by the unpredictable nature of the wood-fired kiln.        

In more modern times, Hoshino Ryosai does not settle to merely copy these ancient forms; he channels their spirit and using his inner voice creates something that stands as an amalgam of the old and new. The contemporary relevance of this tsubo lies in its steadfast defiance of mass-produced objects, in an age dominated by plastic uniformity, this jar demands that we stop and engage with the tactile, the rough, and the authentic. The burst of dark feldspathic spots across its surface tells a story of intense heat and physical labor, each pot is different, each is unique even within a series and kiln firing. Due to Hoshino’s dedication and many like him, the modern viewer time travels to a moment when human hands negotiated directly with elemental forces to dramatic and lasting effect. Hoshino Ryosai’s work stands as a testament to patience, keeping the arduous and fiery tradition of medieval Shigaraki alive, while offering a chaotic modern world a vital insight and reminder into much needed stillness, grounding, and enduring grace.

PEDIGREE

The true trajectory of a potter’s life is often written directly into the clay, one starts out on one pathway, perhaps in botanical science only to have everything turned upside down while watching a famous potter on television. This is the story of Murokawa Tsuguo who jumped from one path to another after seeing the work of Arakawa Toyozo and though Arakawa was no longer accepting students, Murokawa made his way to the Suigetsu-gama where he worked for over a decade, seeing, studying and drinking in the knowledge and experience of the master before finally moving on and setting up his own studio and kiln in Mie Prefecture, home of Iga -yaki which this chawan is categorized as. 

Interestingly enough it is in this teabowl by Murokawa Tsuguo, that a compelling dialogue between two distinct ceramic traditions is readily apparent, that of the body of work produced by Arakawa and the Suigetsu-gama and the pottery of old Iga. The accompanying signed box describes this bowl rather simply; IGA CHAWAN, fired in the demanding environment of a Mie Prefecture anagama however the visual and tactile vocabulary of the vessel is inescapable, pointing directly back to the potter’s formative decade at Suigetsu-gama under the profound influence of the late Toyozo Arakawa. Rarely is there such a striking testament as to how deeply a master's lineage can saturate a craftsman's hands, psyche and intellect, refusing to be erased by a change of venue , geography or in this case a change of scenery of one’s own workshop and kiln.       

The form of this chawan carries a deliberate, anchored gravity that immediately commands attention, a posture and presence that again is linked back to Murokawa’s formulative years in pottery. It possesses a distinct visual and physical architecture that recalls the classic Momoyama revival tea vessels championed by Arakawa and others of the first half of the 20^th centuries when giants roamed and rebuilt the traditions of modern Japan. The rim undulates with the intentional and softest of rhythms, avoiding any sense of rigid symmetry, while the walls descend into a subtly compressed waist fending off any fussy manipulation. Near the foot, the base tightens with assertive, curving gracefully and with purpose that present both visual and physical stability. Within this structural clarity the vessel commands an unmistakable presence; it stands with absolute certainty, commanding its space with hints of nobility required for its use in the tea ceremony, balancing rugged autonomy with classical restraint.      

What makes this piece ultimately work as a cohesive entity is the [sophisticated] tension between its nominal classification and its actual surface. Rather than solely relying on the nature of an anagama’s accidental ash deposits across the pieces which is typical of traditional unglazed Iga, Murokawa has applied a controlled, vitreous glaze that speaks fluently of the language of the modern Mino tradition marrying his past with his present. Much of the bowl is enveloped in a pale olive-green glaze, pooling toward the base, the texture is distinctly waxy and matte with hints of wetness here and there and crusty ash, closely mimicking the prized aburage-hada (fried-tofu skin) of exceptional Ki-Seto ware.  Though the intent of potter and firing may have been the creation of an Iga chawan, the use of glaze, the form and its combined features clearly give off the immediate impression of pottery normally located about 100km to the south-west.    

Ultimately, this tea bowl stands as both testament and amalgam of past and present, master and student in its hybrid execution. Murokawa has taken the structural discipline and glaze sensibilities cultivated at Suigetsu-gama and subjected them to the atmosphere of an Iga firing. It is a lesson in modern convergence taking place all over Japan in modern times, demonstrating that a potter’s true pedigree cannot be hidden; it remains permanently etched like a monument, carved, chiseled and coerced from clay rather than stone.

TOO HIGH

This was a spur of the moment, end of day attempt at trying to capture some of the grace, posture and form of the rather impressive and famous Mine(no)Momiji chawan. I think it is quite clear, I was in no way attempting to actual make anything resembling a copy of that chawan but rather now and again I try to get at just a hint of the feel of the form and its animation which truth be told is both a very bridge to far and a bar just too high. This bowl came about as the remnant of throwing a group of lids off the hump out of white stoneware leaving just about enough for a teabowl. This was thrown, slightly manipulated, dried a bit and then had the foot cut with a sharp piece of wood that was once a simple shim or wedge. I decided to go all in on a fine line, incised and inlaid decoration paying homage to the MnM chawan adding stamped squares here and there to break up the surface. Once bisque and glazed in my Oribe base, a total of three additional glazes were added to try for that streaked and mottled surface I like and this was the end result. Miserable failure or just one more bowl closer to what I am after? I’ll let you know after another 100 are under my belt.

 

(CU) MAJESTY

Copper red glazes (xianhong) have quite the majestic history going all the way back to the 15^th Century in China, perfect monochrome making the fullest use of low oxygen atmospheres and just the right amount of copper. Since that time there has been a number of other styles of copper red across Europe and the US in the late 19^th century and these glazes, though not the perfection of Imperial Chinese monochrome, they are still noble and praise-worthy. Back when I started, it seemed like there was nothing quite as majestic and magical as the copper red glazes of Tom Turner and Tom Coleman who made this fluid, fluted beauty, a covered jar to boot! Stout and puffed full of volume, the vertical lines that define the flutes are a dark, black while the channels are filled with a red determined to move, running down the pot though now locked in a frozen struggle appearing to defy and mock gravity. Without sounding hyperbolic, there is a wondrous appeal to the symmetry and fullness of even the smallest of vessels that Coleman has put his mind and hands to, there is no escaping the contributions he has made to the art of porcelain and glazes he and his wife have made and the freshness and modernity he constantly presents us with.

SHINSAI KAMON

This mizusashi Morisato Toraku III (b. 1959) is a classic example of Kyo-yaki (Kyoto ware) that breathes contemporary life into the ancient Goryeo-derived Mishima tradition. The form is precisely thrown as the perfect canvas for the shinsai kamon pattern where the inlaid white slip and purple accents create a lyrical pattern around the entire surface and across the lid. This time-honored silhouette was born of both functional and aesthetic considerations where the surface and taunt structure balance quiet, functional dignity and noble aspirations for this vessel used in the tea ceremony. The mizusashi is completed by its simple, yet well decorated matching lid, finished off with a simple, utilitarian but intricate twisted "rope" handle, no mere afterthought as each detail and consideration unifies the pot as Aristotle was quick to note, “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts". 

The technique used on this mizusashi is Mishima, a testament to the rigorous precision of the Toraku lineage. Originating in Korea, this slip-inlay is reliant on the buncheong style which employs stamped or incised decorative elements, mostly geometric and floral patterns which are then filling white slip, creating the stark contrast between the body and the decoration. As the pot dries, the excess slip is scraped away and then bisque and later glazed in some transparent or translucent glaze to maximize the effect. In this piece, we see classic, oft used patterns of the family and kiln rendered with a precision and dedication that only a master of the Kyo-yaki tradition can achieve. The subtle use of purple and iron-oxide washes completes the shinsai kamon technique adding an additional depth to the precise design, softening the overall appearance and giving an illusory connection to paintings, silks and dyed fabrics known within the old Imperial capital.                    

This mizusashi and the pottery of the (Morisato) Toraku family is right at home in modern-day Kyoto and Kyo-yaki represents the "sophisticated rustic" aesthetic that defines the Kiyomizu-Gojo district. While many contemporary potters gravitate toward abstraction, the Toraku studio remains dedicated to the refinement of classical designs and decoration they are well known for. Unlike many modern-day potters and pottery, there are only hints of serendipity on the decorating, glazing and firing processes as its efforts are best rewarded in a rather calculated artistry. This approach creates a near standardization of technique and surface where though there are difference among the pottery, this work is more about how they connect with each other and the previous generations to create a tradition where the individual’s voice is quiet and more a whisper that a bold pronouncement. In many respects this style of Kyo-yaki helps bridges the gap between the rough, utilitarian roots of historical Mishima and the aristocratic elegance expected of Kyoto's centuries old aesthetic and traditions.            

If ever so slightly out of synch with the 21^st century, Morisato Toraku III has grasped the essence of this tradition and style while maintaining the “crispness” of this tradition while striving to infuse the vessel with a modern sense of volume and proportion. Through this insight, he has ensured that this mizusashi and the work of his studio are not merely copies of what has pasted, but a living continuation of Kyoto’s enduring ceramic legacy being ushered into the present day and beyond. It is a work of profound technical discipline and understated, under-appreciated beauty. 

QUICK POST, SIMPLE POT

Quick post, simple pot. Illustrated is a simple, paddled yunomi that was part of a group of eight. Five were teamed up and sent out as a set, one is kind of marginal and of the other two, this was the best one. As you can surmise, this was thrown out of stoneware and then paddled and tooled, once bisque it was glazed in my Oribe base and had two other glazes added. This is not the greatest yunomi ever made but it has some volume and feels good in the hand and as a potter, maybe that is the general expectation along with a sense of accomplishment when someone besides my wife responds well to the piece.