I
took a large group of photos of a Furutani Kazuya chawan some months back and
put them in a folder and only recently really looked them over. As soon as I
saw this particular picture, a detail of the mikomi, the pool and interior I
was reminded of a favorite poem by Matsuo Basho that I think about from time to
time while enjoying the moonlight piercing the trees throughout the Mohawk River Valley. This detail
shot clearly shows the beautiful build up of natural ash inside the chawan
creating a deep green pool with areas of fractured crust that tried building up
on the liquid contents at the height of the firing. It is quite easy to see all
of the rivers of ash moving into the lowest point of the chawan's interior
painting a wonderful if unintentional pattern which is honestly made even more
brilliant by the addition of the sun. As I am often reminded, this is only a
solitary detail but even so, I can do with details like this singular or
otherwise in all the wood fired pots that I get to see and handle.
Moonlight
slanting
through the bamboo groove;
a cuckoo crying (Basho)
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