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.)

CHANGE THE CURVES

    

                                                            

Measuring in at just under nine inches tall, this covered jar falls under the umbrella of jars I refer to as “wasp jars”. The basic thought is the wasp like stinger for a knob and the waisted form and expanded top of the piece. I started making these back in Cleveland during what may looking back now seem like the medieval ages and I am not quite sure where the idea actually came from except, I like pots that change the curves, going in and then out while resting on a smaller scaled foot. This one was thrown out of a white stoneware and has a base clear glaze, another glazed brushed over it and two additional glaze washes atomized seemingly random to create this surface. I decided to run this surface by a more sterile canvas without any paddling, carving, stamping or slip work to see that it was interesting enough to stand on its own one foot, I think it passes the test. Maybe next time around I can get it into the 14” range to see that the glazing is enough to carry the day.

ALTERNATIVE

I was scrambling around looking through photos trying to find something to post but after all these years and all the posts on my I, POTTER blog, Facebook and Instagram, it does get to be a bit of a challenge putting up something new every time. As I was searching through pictures, I came across this picture of the Tamaoki Yasuo Oni-Shino chawan and thought this was a good counterpoint to the first photo. Obviously in this picture, the chawan is shown off using an alternative lighting source, the sun and presents a slightly differing perspective of the pot. I have to admit, I am drawn to how the Shino glaze and the feldspar in particular looks like it is frozen ice or quartz formed over millions of years all the while being punctuated by iron spots and trails that create a landscape the is visually mesmerizing, well, at least in my opinion. One feature that is hard to miss is the highly reflective and metallic the iron that has made its way into the surface becomes a main player in this symphony of clay, material and fire. I was a bit reticent to putting up this additional or alternative view so soon but seeing it on my computer screen, I think it was the perfect choice.

CONTINUED GENEROSITY

Illustrated is a group of books that I was sent, they had been in the collection of my friend, Howard Waldman. His widow asked me if there were books that I wanted and I suggested that she box them up and just send them all my way, which she graciously did. The intent was to keep a few books for myself, I think three or four and then pass the rest on where they would be most appreciated. About four or five went to two collectors and the remainder to a pottery studio in Pennsylvania, all were sent gratis as I wanted to honor the continued generosity of Howard and his wife. I can tell you that I am extremely pleased with the books that I received, filling in some vital gaps in my library and hope the remaining group are leafed through until they are dog-eared while adding an unseen perspective to a new group of collectors and potters along the way. Thanks again H & N. 

ANOTHER LEFT OVER

Illustrated is a simple teacup, thrown along with five others to get to a set of five in total, this one being just another left over and likely destined for the shelf of mismatched and misfit pots. These were thrown out of a white stoneware and then glazed over in another combo or runny glazes which I am referring to as tsuru-yu (tendril glaze) as everything needs some nomenclature as a means of identification. Based on the same general concept as the Hongyo style running green surface, this one is obviously earthy and a bit more neutral in appearance and the cascades have a variety of simple, subtle coloration and details that make it a bit more than just a runny brown glaze. This set of cups was actually my first use of this surface for anything besides tests and though a test in its own way, this surface seems to being moving in the right direction and not just south. Though gravity and temperature have more of a hand in the creation of this surface, I would like to think I have had something to do with it until it ends up sticking to a shelf or firing plinth then I will know exactly who and what to throw under the bus. Several pieces are going into my next glaze fire though only a yunomi and a teabowl but even “big” ideas have to start small.

NOT THE BEER

Illustrated is a mystical and mythic beast, the kirin, made of clay and glazed over in an ash style, almost Ki-Seto like glaze which one can assume will not be confused with the beer brand. Captured in dramatic movement, this okimono is suspended in mid-leap, held up by a simple copper rod and a simple, plain block of wood. The animated movement and motion etched and modeled into the surface work in sympathy with each other, exactly as planned by a sculptor skilled in capturing and expressing dynamic tension, movement and expression in little more than a handful of clay. 

In Japanese ceramic sculpture, few mythological creatures grab our attention as much as the elusive and mysterious kirin, except the pantheon of Eastern dragon. A chimeric herald of peace, prosperity, and cosmic harmony, the kirin is traditionally depicted as a celestial, mythical chimera, an amalgam of spirited animals, a little bit dragon, a little bit stag draped in scales and flanked by animated flames looking a bit like the paint job on a ’57 Chevy. It is a creature so benevolent that its hooves tread softly enough to avoid crushing a single blade of grass, this particular and idiosyncratic rendering translates millennium of monumental mythology into ceramic form without succumbing to stiff, ceremonial formality which clearly requires a potter of exceptional sensibility.    

Enter Takaba Eizi. Known for his expressive and distinctly unique approach to sculpted ceramic figures (okimono), Takaba breathes a lively, human vitality and expressiveness into this traditional subject matter animating clay with an inner voice and deft touch. Rather than casting a static, immovable guardian, the clay is hand-modeled with a true sense of direct, tactile immediacy. His fingers, his tools and his sculpting all leave an indelible record of the making process, the soft, pinched ridges of the mane, the rhythmic tool marks defining the scaled flanks, and the carved, spiraling clouds swirling across the beast’s hindquarters all speak to the process of its creation.   

What makes this particular piece magnetic is its sheer, whimsical buoyancy, its posture and its presence reflecting well beyond its scale. Raised on its slender copper support and wood plinth, the creature seems less like a heavy clay object and more like a celestial being caught mid-flight, stretching its neck skyward with quiet joy and mythical exuberance. The surface treatment accentuates this sculptural playfulness where warm, earthy clay tones peak through a lightly applied, pale wash or slip, highlighting every carved groove and impressed scale to maximum and even dramatic effect. The contrast between deep, shadowed crevices and soft, matte highlights endows the creature with dynamic light and shadow.     

Takaba Eizi achieves a rare balance in his work, honoring the ancient iconographic dignity of the kirin while infusing it with a modern, intimate, joyful warmth. It stands as a masterwork of his hand-built ceramic art, a sculptural testament to how traditional myth can be revitalized, modernized through clay, touch, and imaginative spirit. 

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)

SIMPLE GREEN

Illustrated is a rather simple and small paddled jar glazed in my Oribe with a variety of washes over the surface. If memory serves me, this was specifically made as filler to fit between a group of larger covered serving bowls and thus falls under the “filler” category. I wanted to take a moment and clarify the term filler, it is not meant to lessen or diminish the variety of pieces that are made to go between larger pots and in fact some are orders as well, I just can’t necessarily think of a better more apt descriptor than that. At any rate, this current surface that I am using really shows off the paddling quite well and the light, white stoneware also makes for a brighter surface that I then muddy up a bit atomizing various oxides onto the pot which starts out as a simple green. As I mentioned it is a rather simple, even conservative pot that has found its way to Canada which I will remind readers, is still one of our largest trading partners on Earth.

TRAJECTORY

Illustrated is a small Oribe vase that despite its size, commands its space and a certain amount of attention through its sheer, unyielding presence. Almost totemic in nature it has balanced a bold texture with a subtle, stepped tapered form, a series of distinct horizontal tiers that give the verticality a rhythmic, segmented weight like some ancient stone monument. The stance is completely grounded, and the posture hints at movement that appears entirely intentional rather than accidental. The rim slopes gently inward, creating a tight, focused aperture that concentrates the interior space and compels the viewer for further inspection. The small, flanking lug handles near the shoulder are compressed against the body, serving less as functional utility and more as punctuation points that bracket the upper tier and break up the linear nature of the form.    

The surface is all about the tactile (and visual) capabilities of clay where a heavily textured, chattering pattern wraps entirely around the exterior, leaving deep, ridged furrows that trap light and shadow as well as glaze (and sometimes dust!). The texture feels eroded, raw, almost aggressive but not contrived and fussy. The surface is natural and organic, a rare and almost herculean feat of creation. Over this intense patterning, a rich, pooling deep green Oribe glaze has been applied. Where the glaze runs thick, it transforms into an opaque, vitreous moss green, collecting in deep, glassy pools within the crevices and creating a dark vertical streak down the front face where thickness and gravity battled in the ferocity of the fire and gave way to movement. Where the glaze thins over the crests of the horizontal ridges and elsewhere, it breaks cleanly to reveal the warm, buff ceramic skin underneath adding to the depth of the texture of the overall form. The interior reveals a completely different micro-environment: a dark, concentrated glaze pooling at the bottom, offering a stark contrast to the variegated exterior.        

Okabe Mineo (1919–1990) stands as one of the most significant iconoclasts of twentieth-century Japanese ceramics. As the eldest son of the larger-than-life potter Katō Tōkurō, Mineo forged his own path developing a style and work that could not be contained by the immense shadow of his family lineage and the somewhat traditional confines of both the Seto and Mino traditions. As a potter, Okabe wasn’t easily satisfied and rather than simply replicating historical Momoyama prototypes, he revitalized styles like Oribe and Shino by introducing highly personal, hand-built sculptural forms and heavily textured surfaces breathing life into a tradition dominated by stillness and sameness. Mineo rejected the idea that a potter should rely purely on the serendipity of the kiln or romanticized notions of chance forcing by sheer force of will and fine-tuned experience, his vision into his finished work. He demanded an exacting, intellectual approach to the craft, famously observing; "What meaning do instinct or accident have in achieving form? Without a concrete and accurate understanding of materials underlying technique, no development is possible."  

This specific Ao-Oribe Jomon hanaire (copper green rope impressed flower vase) perfectly captures that philosophy and effectively changed the trajectory of mid-century Japanese ceramics by treating Oribe ware as a medium for raw, tactile experimentation rather than simply a traditional canvas where the status quo dominated. The rough, chattered exterior and the heavy pooling of the green glaze are not the results of accidental distortion; they are the consequence of a deliberate, masterful manipulation of material limits. Mineo's work serves as a bridge between classical tea ceramics and modern expressive sculpture, securing his legacy as a titan who forced, even bent traditional clay into a fiercely contemporary dialogue.

OPEN ROAD

There is something seemingly quiet, a feeling of solitude leading to deliberate intimacy in holding a bowl designed explicitly for travel. The tabi-chawan, a tea bowl built for the road may hold certain demands other chawan may not, the balance between utility and presence spring to mind, a design challenge Kawai Takeichi meets with striking poise in this piece. Though it is more than likely this bowl was not meant to make its way along the Tokaido it processes those qualities even if the intent was to just make it across the vastness of a single room.    

Formally speaking, this simple bowl asserts a grounded, cylindrical mass where its vertical walls rise with an unhurried curve from a defined, sturdy foot ring (kodai), providing an immediate sense of both actual and perceived visual stability. The profile avoids ostentation, the superfluous details and throwing marks have all drifted away leaving a compact, self-contained volume that nestles comfortably in the hands. Like many pots of the Mingei movement and the Kawai school in particular, this is a vessel crafted not merely to be viewed on some distant shelf, often times collecting dust but created to be held, packed, unpacked, and used across some distances near of far even if it does end up on one’s computer desk.  

The surface, the fire painted canvas, is where Takeichi’s voice resonates most vividly and this bowl stands out from a sea of glazed ware. Covered in a rich, saturated iron glaze (tetsu-yu), the bowl becomes a surreal landscape of dynamic, dark-spectrum movement, where iron over iron punctuates the field and creates visual tension. Cells composed of golden rust, mottled ochre, and deep olive tones bleed into dark black-brown pools, creating a living surface where the dappled exterior catches the light across its gentle curving planes. Given the temperature and physics, the glaze melts and flows into subtle tendril-like runs, a testament to both chemistry and combustion. Frozen in time, the small bowl carries a wet, glossy depth that feels alive to the touch, animated and inviting, scenery constantly shifting under inspection.      

In this simple, unpretentious and noble (?) tabi-chawan, the shadow and spirit of Kawai Kanjiro, is undeniable, yet distinctly translated where Kanjiro channeled monumental energy and expressive unrestricted vigor into his creations, Takeichi absorbed those lessons and distilled them into a more disciplined and everyday functionalism. Though the expressive glaze work directly echoes Kanjiro’s mastery of the elements, Takeichi applied it to forms that for the most part remains strictly humble and utilitarian creating a mixture of both “beauty born of use” and a nobility of pragmatic creation. This bowl and works like it stand as a testament to lineage, taking Kanjiro’s fiery spirit and innovative creativity and shaping it into a quiet companion for a journey along an open road.

LIFE LESSON

I have spent the last three days making up glazes, washes and glazing up enough pots for two kiln-loads, possibly three. I am not a huge fan of glazing but am reminded of a very important (life) lesson, one I should adhere to, the time to make up glazes is when you notice they are too low to move forward and not the day you plan on starting to glaze. As with most things, this is not rocket science it is just proper planning and better time management than just rushing around trying to do too many things at once. There are several different glaze combos being fired, some tried and true and others just in their infancy so firings like this always make me nervous with more than a few pieces needed for a show and some orders. I’ll fire the first kiln tomorrow so time will tell and now it is advanced JuJu time. 

Illustrated is a Kuro-Oribe style tataki yunomi that was thrown and then beaten on and manipulated just a bit. It has a somewhat wonky appearance and rests on a foot, handcut using a simple sharpened shim stock wedge direct from the big hardware box-mart. I will say that I do enjoy making these, a process that is start to finish in  mostly under 30 minutes or so and on the odd occasion, they go right on top of the firing kiln and I am able to get them in a bisque the same day that they are made. It doesn’t get any faster than that.

EXPLORER

Yamada Masakazu (b. 1951) is a figure whose work exists at the sharp intersection of hereditary duty and individual exploration, he is both classic sakuhin craftsman and an explorer within his idiom. Born in Toki City, Gifu Prefecture, he is the current master of Hakusan Gama (White Mountain Kiln), an institution established by his great-grandfather at the turn of the 20th century. While he carries the weight of a multi-generational legacy, Masakazu has spent over five decades refining and defining his personal vocabulary that pays tribute to the Momoyama spirit of Mino-yaki while adapting to a contemporary aesthetic landscape.   

As with many potters brought up within a hereditary tradition, Masakazu’s study and apprenticeship began early and after graduating from the Tajimi Technical High School in 1969 he was immediately immersed in the duties and expectations of the studio. Working within this system, creativity and experimentation have borne fruit along the way as his career is marked by a consistent presence in the Japan Traditional Crafts Exhibition and the Asahi Ceramic Art Exhibition. Beyond his exhibition record, Masakazu has shown a wide array of skills from clay and glaze science to kiln firing that has earned him the title of Director of the Mino Ceramics Association.    

Yamada Masakazu is best represented within the styles of is proficient in Shino, Oribe, Seto-guro and Ki-Seto, it is likely his identifiable style and glazing of Shino that often tells the story of his temperament. Unlike the more dramatic and flamboyant styles of many of his contemporaries, Masakazu’s work often feels a bit quiet, reflective and contemplative emphasizing a softness, where the snowy feldspathic glaze seems to have just begun to melt over a rugged terrain. In many respect it is the soft and quiet aesthetic that holds its appeal where the pot is substitute for a simple ink painting or a lofty poetic exchange. 

In this particular chawan, we see the hallmarks of Masakazu’s mature and developed style. The form is robust yet it possesses a gentle, undulating rim that invites the touch. The bowl is first glazed in a thin layer of Shino accounting for the rich iron effect over which a thick, pure white Muji-Shino is applied and a finger is struck through the glaze in a casual and almost random fashion adding to the landscape of the bowl. Across the bowl, there is just enough punctuated yuhazu style pinholes to activate the surface creates a surface taking on the soft appearance of orange peel or weathered stone, as with most pots, how one sees or interprets what is in their hand is as varied as the breath of the human experience. 

In some ways this is a bowl about story-telling, its form and surface are the narration, the interplay between the thick, milky-white and the exposed, burnt iron glaze underneath creates a sense of high-contrast drama. The iron wash beneath the glaze is applied adding to the landscape it is a bowl that celebrates the casual, and quiet nature of the materials, where reminders of the potter’s hand is barely visible instead depending on the glaze and fire to complete the tale.   

Masakazu’s work along with many of the other traditional Mino potters, serve as a vital bridge between what was and what will be, the very future of Mino-yaki depends on these potters. Masakazu maintains the functional integrity required of a traditional chadogu maker while endeavoring to infuse each piece with a distinct presence and a unique voice. His simple bowls are not merely containers for tea; they strive to become environments of texture, form and shadow, inviting a quiet, contemplative engagement where the fundamental elements of earth, air, water and fire unite in a single bowl.

ASOBI

When you come face to face (or even face to image) with a chawan by Tamaoki Yasuo a dialogue begins, and participating in a conversation the likely dates back four hundred years of aesthetic rebellion. In this way of thinking, this modern Oribe chawan is not merely a ritualistic vessel but conceivable it is the embodiment of controlled, purposeful chaos, the visual and tactile manifestation of asobi, playfulness that characterizes much of the Momoyama period chadogu curated under the guidance of Furuta Oribe (1544-1615), which continues to pulse through the Mino hills today.      

The form of this chawan is unapologetically and even intentionally robust and though based on the basics of the idiom, the mechanical symmetry of the wheel becomes quite secondary favoring a slightly manipulated presence that conveys a naturalistic warmth rather than manufactured. The walls rise with a deliberate unevenness, creating a rim that wanders like a mountain path, dipping here, rising there and extending an invitation in its use and unabashed appreciation. It is on the surface where Tamaoki truly pays homage to the Oribe tradition while asserting his contemporary voice, a dramatic interaction between the deep, glossy and textured black and the warm, salmon-hues are worked across the white background like a spontaneous and playful abstract landscape. Combining elements of Kuro-Oribe, Narumi-Oribe and E-Oribe, Tamaoki brings Oribe into the modern age while relying on tradition and fundamental Momoyama aesthetics including negative space (MA) to forge through the crucible of fire the very honesty of the piece. The use of these elements infused into a single pot is a bold exercise in exhilaration and pauses which allow the viewer, the user moments to breathe through the encounter.    

Searching history, Oribe ware was born in the late 16th century, creating a radical departure from the quiet, somber tones of wabi-sabi. Named after and guided in its origins under the tea master Furuta Oribe, distorted shapes and vivid patterns were introduced and persisted into modern times where Tamaoki Yasuo, carries this pursuit of balancing function, aesthetics and the sense of playful beauty into the 21^st century. In the context of Tamaoki’s overall body of work, this chawan celebrates a modern potter’s transformative power within an age-old tradition. While he is recognized for his classic Shino, his Oribe work displays a specific type of visual daring, understanding that for a bowl to be truly "playful," it must first be technically perfect and the "play" is an intentional subversion of mastery, not a lack of it.            

In Japanese art, playfulness is a serious endeavor, it is the rejection of stiflingly perfection or rather the perfection of the imperfect. This chawan is all about the concept of asobi through its visual wit creating a well-read narrative of centuries of pots that have come before interacting with new thoughts, new ideas and a new voice added to the story-telling. Tamaoki’s modern Oribe interpretations challenges the user to find beauty in the asymmetry of the surface and the willingness to break from an orthodoxy which has become a bit rigid over the centuries. In its use in tea, where every movement is prescribed and standardized, the Oribe bowl provides a moment of visual surprise and freshness that reminds that nature, and by extension ceramic art, is not stagnant and is always moving, evolving even if it is not always easy to see. Tamaoki has captured that fleeting, rebellious spark, where the clay (tsuchi), decoration (kazari) and flame (hi), result in a work that is as much a challenge as it is a comfort.    

(This image is composed using two actual photographs of the tamaoki chawan and set into an AI generated scenario)

NARUMI-ESQUE

Illustrated is a simple, small faceted covered jar glazed in my Kuro-Oribe style surface with several iron panels with inlaid black decoration and at some level is just a really big teabowl with a lid. I decided on calling this style, “narumi-esque” after the Narumi-Oribe style of pottery which if you squint while wearing your imagination cap you may see some similarity or at the very least, influence. Way back when while working at Cleveland State, I started making pots with panels like this that interrupted the overall surface, they were at first a combination of a dark black glaze called blackbird-vitro and Secrest celadon which quickly expanded to temmoku and celadon and several others. I figured my Oribe surface would look good with the iron panels so I started small and went from teabowls to small covered pots and a few medium size bowls. It seems to work consistently and there is no crawling between the two glazes so that is a plus though I have been criticized (by a known heretic*) that the inlaid decoration on some of the pieces seems a bit like the Peruvian Nazca lines but you know what, I’ll take that any day. At any rate, here is the covered pot that was recently fired in normal lighting and in the sunlight which I think really shows off the details and the texture of the clay underneath. I am aware this isn’t going to change the world but for me, the more I can squeeze out of copper and uses for this current Oribe, the more satisfied I am and that is the best I can ask for. 

(*This is not an insult but rather an inside joke)

MORE TIME

Time is one of those things, quite illusive and I have been told, “it waits for no man”. Today was just one of those days were time got away from me, errands, glazing and I even managed to throw for an hour, but that is it so this post will be brief and as superficial as time has dictated. Illustrated is an outstanding Iga chaire emerging from its “homespun” shifuku like a moth from a cocoon, made for this piece by Furutani Michio by his wife back in the 1990s.

KAWAI’S IRON

I’ll make the assumption that when you think about Kawai Kanjiro and his students, it is more than likely that what does spring to mind is the depth and variations of the magical gosu blue. But added to that wonderful surface, perhaps more timeless and traditional is the tetsu-yu (iron glaze) palette stretching from the monumental masterworks of Kawai Kanjiro down through Takeichi and numerous other students. Based on various Chinese archetypes the Kawai tetsu-yu is remarkable for its sheer variety and versatility, transforming a single elemental oxide, into a vast spectrum of moods, what Nigel Wood described as “iron in the fire”. 

Far from any simple or monochromatic dark brown, this mastery of iron ranges from deep and mysterious, light-absorbing tenmoku blacks to fiery kaki (persimmon) oranges, speckled amber-gold rusts, and greenish-olive hues not to mention a panoply of celadons and the like. This sheer breadth is beyond impressive, achieved through deliberate and often subtle variation in the glaze chemistry, its application and a careful firing atmosphere, where a rapid drop in temperature may produce a glass-like surface while a slow reduction allows alchemy to bloom, drawing out fine crystalline details, oil-spot, or mottled and punctuated textures. Whether applied by dipping or by brushed, temperature and experience allowed magic to spontaneously occur, running in dark, tendril-like cascades down vertical landscapes, the Kawai school coerced iron into an expressive, living skin that bridges rugged functional utility with deeply poetic visual depth. 

Clockwise from top left, Kawai Takeichi, Kawai Hirotsugu, Mukunoki Eizo and Kawai Hisashi

HONGYO-ESQUE?

I have to be honest, I didn’t wake up one morning and think to myself, this is the exact thing I wish to pursue, to test and add my own spin to. Rather this started as a random testing accident and a love of a style that I first saw way back in the mid-1980s in the catalogue, ERDE UND FEUER. This German catalogue showcased a number of modern potters  and showed off and discussed the work of Mizuno Hanjiro. By way of a second admission, generally speaking I am not a huge folk art pottery guy but there was something so elemental and honest about his work and this large bowl in particular that has stuck in my mind, an indelible imprint if you will.    >After the initial test came out it became readily apparent it may only be a hop, skip and a jump away from the Hongyo-yaki inspired pieces I had seen all those years ago and this was the success after a run of line blends and misc. other attempts. This simple test cup was thrown and unevenly faceted and then glazed in two glazes before getting the Hongyo style washes applied. I tried to apply the washes evenly to try to control the running flow and realize that is going to be quite the chore and though I was pleased with these results for about ten minutes, the conclusion is, there is work to be done, more testing to do and a need to figure out where it will and will not work or enhance a pot form. Why can’t anything ever be easy.  

For those not totally up on Seto Hongyo-yaki, at the core of this enduring tradition is the multi-generational lineage of Mizuno Hanjiro, a family of potters who have championed the honest, unpretentious beauty of these folk ceramics (mingei) at the Hongyo-gama kiln. Facing the mid-twentieth-century onslaught of industrial incursion into the handmade and production of the items used in everyday life, Hongyo-yaki among many other pottery styles and crafts in general were threatened with what amounted to extinction. Mizuno Hanjiro found some measure of profound reassurance in the philosophy of Yanagi Sōetsu, Bernard Leach, and Hamada Shōji, who visited the kiln in 1964 and rather than succumbing to mass production or drifting into purely decorative territory, the Mizuno lineage doubled down on Seto’s core identity, utilizing local clays to create vessels with tremendous structural integrity and commanding posture especially as a reflection of the mingei movement. Using traditional wood firing, Hongyo-yaki is celebrated for its classic, robust Seto glazes, one such style can be seen in the attached illustration preserving a long-standing tradition as well as clarifying a voice most notably heard in the clay and pottery of Mizuno Hanjiro.