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.

CLAY & COSMOS

My relationship with time did not begin at the potter’s wheel, nor did it mature through the inevitable and unstoppable tick of standard clocks. It was formed, even forged years earlier, fed on a steady diet of vintage science fiction and the sweeping, cosmic geometry of Carl Sagan. Watching Cosmos, I learned to see the universe not as a static backdrop, but as an ancient, unfolding tapestry where entropy and gravity are constants. Sagan helped give me this sense of deep time, a perspective where human history is reduced to a microscopic speck on a cosmic calendar, and where millions of years represent the smallest, most casual fraction of our vast universe. It is an overwhelming realization, one that shifts your gaze from the horizon directly in front of you to the absurd and incomprehensible infinite. Yet, paradoxically, it is this exact sense of cosmic scale that guides my hands when they are slick with slurry, throwing clay on a spinning wheel working in a studio where decades old music lingers or choices made to enhance our environment with “new” pots.   

When you look at the archeological record, there is a seismic shift that occurred in what amounts to a literal blink of a cosmic eye: the transition from actual stone to the fired vessel. Suddenly, we learned to shape the earth and trap fire for ritual, necessity and the promise of tomorrow, we turned raw clay into functional form. In the grand timeline of reality, this monumental leap happened in a flash as it bridges the gap between primitive survival and conscious creation, transforming chaotic geology into deliberate geometry, form and vessel.   

This forces an existential question, what is time to us as curators, and what is time to a pot? We treat these vessels with immense care, even reverence, displaying them caring for them and treating them as precious markers of our own time and contemporary culture yet our stewardship is inherently fleeting. The pot itself exists on an entirely different metaphysical plane. Once formed and fired, the intense heat vitrifies the clay, freezing its trapped silica matrix into a durable, glassy structure rendering a pot immortal in terms of time if not animation. That matrix does not share our mortality, long after the flesh has returned to dust, long after our current empires have dissolved into myth and forgotten with a whisper reminiscent of Shelly’s “Ozymandias”, that silica matrix, the form, the structure will remain. It will survive for millions of years, a nearly indestructible relic waiting silently in the dirt and subject only to geological upheavals.   

Surrounded by the quiet rhythm of the passing seasons, I often find myself drifting, contemplating our place in this web of recycled matter where the truth of the philosopher kings, Crosby, Stills & Nash* anthem echoes deeply: “We are stardust, we are golden, we are billion-year-old carbon.” The very atoms that comprise my hands, the carbon molecules in my bones, all of the necessary minerals waiting in the clay bed were all baked/ forged in the hearts of dying stars eons ago finding their way into something new, some momentary and some destined for some sense of longevity. Simply put, pottery is simply the act of one form of stardust reshaping another.    

Ultimately, we must accept a humbling and yet, inescapable truth: we will have these objects for only a very, very brief moment in time, we will never truly own the pots we collect, nor the one’s we make as potters but there is a hint of immortality in that making. We are merely temporary guardians, passing them through our brief flash of consciousness. We hold them for an afternoon, a decade, perhaps a lifetime, before passing them along to the deep future, a future where the pot will endure, keeping watch over a universe that is in reality just beginning.     

On a lighter note, here is something new(ish) from Bizen potter, Baba Takashi, an Oni-Shino guinomi. Though this fits broadly under the specter of Tsukigata’s Oni-Shino, I think it is safe to safe it falls within the general parameters of how I look at this specific surface. The form is simple enough with a strong wari-kodai and an interplay between feldspar, ash and iron the three requisite components of any Oni-Shino surface. As I mentioned, Baba is probably best known for his Kuro-Bizen with flourishes and highlights of cobalt across the surface adding a unique perspective to modern Bizen and this Oni-Shino work adds another avenue of pursuit for the innovative Okayama Prefecture native. Given the lead in to this guinomi, I wonder where this piece will be in 25, 100 or a thousand years, curious minds and all that. 

(* I realize Joni Mitchell wrote WOODSTOCK but I prefer Crosby, Stills & Nash)

M3 MOMIJI

With a slight nudge from AI tech, here is a Tamaoki Yasuo Shino hanaire, circa 1993 displayed in my mind’s museum. At first glance, this may seem an odd choice, going with this more decorative piece as opposed to his pots with large, undulating bands of contrasting glaze and texture but that is exactly why I choose this piece. Rather than relying on his banded pieces or his pots with sharp geometric patterning, Tamaoki infused this vase form with a rich Rimpa meets Nihonga narrative, reminiscent of Kenzan and Hoiitsu’s two-dimensional imagery of several centuries earlier. Using a strong and even idiosyncratic form, Tamaoki has made excellent use of both the available positive and negative space to lay out a rich ethereal landscape painted in the round where the mind can make any number of associations depending on the viewer.        

This vase was exhibited in 1993 and stands as a near perfect example of Tamaoki’s oeuvre where the vivid, purposeful color scheme is achieved through in this case, technical mastery of the technique which though is quite simple, there are complexities to this innovative use. I mentioned the near perfect technique; I focus on this in particular as the pot was fired in such a way that the entirety benefited from the kiln atmosphere where the surface is even all around. Though not uncommon, every aspect of this pot, from form, glazing, decoration and firing all had to come out just perfectly to create this vase as worthy an object as I can imagine, in my mind or in reality, where the museum is the final reservoirs of (such) human creativity.

LONESOME

Illustrated is a temmoku and iron glazed yunomi, this was fired entirely on its own, a lonesome piece in my kiln after the complete over-haul and in retrospect, I should have fired a slightly larger piece, maybe with a lid to fully vet the firing temperature. Over the years I have replaced elements a number of times but this one was complete including elements, all the wiring, the switches and the cone sitter. This was the second, almost empty firing and it is that last part that concerned me most as I didn’t want the kiln to run away and overfire based on how the claw and plate to the sitter were adjusted. This is where this small yunomi comes in, elevated to about the middle of the kiln space, this was fired on a large piece of broken shelf and a soft brick plinth in case the glaze ran off the piece. As luck would have it, though it got just a bit hot, now adjusted, the yunomi came out about how I expected, no running and perfect without any issues, just another typical form and surface here at Albedo 3 Studio.

WELL, THAT WAS FUN

This is not really pottery related but I will say it effected my ability to surf around, post and look at pots for a while starting last Friday. Though I will not mention the specifics, after a “scheduled update” one of the large anti-virus services that we have installed, everything on the computer just went haywire, the very definition of; “well, that was fun”. The problem was that we were signed out of all of our various accounts and couldn’t log back in, webpages would or wouldn’t load or reload depending on their mood and in this melee of swearing, desk pounding and resignation things just got worse. We did literally everything we could do to try to mitigate this issue including searching out viruses, malware, file corruptions, etc. and went so far as to reinstall the OS. Nothing solved the issue.       

After three days we threw in the towel and paid for a one-time incident support from our PC’s manufacturer. The appointed time arrived and of course because of our computer issues, making contact with the support technician became a Three Stooges routine through no fault on the techs end. He was polite, very knowledgeable and after assuming control of our PC started checking through just about every possible corner of the hardware and software and checked into the deepest oubliette, seemingly buried beneath the flotsam and jetsam of years of internet browsing and use. Since you read the beginning (?) of this post, you can probably surmise that it was not a file corruption, nor malware or virus, not a hardware issue either as we suspected but rather was the routine “scheduled update” from the anti-virus that threw havoc into our digital realm. With the help of the tech who reconfigured this and that, here and there, cleaned out places we didn’t know existed, the computer is now back to normal if that is a thing, having expended the third of its nine lives or is that just cats? 

As a way to tie this back to pottery, illustrated is a Ko-Mino mizusashi by Ando Hidetake. This is neither my photo or my pot and truthfully, in general it is a bit more formal than I prefer but this piece really works for me. The facets are just irregular enough and the neck/ mouth add some movement as well and the lid just looks like it is resting and waiting to be picked up. The lugs seem just right for this form and the contrast of the yellow toned glaze and the natural ash across the base just all work in tandem to create a rather attractive and appealing pot. Now I just need to figure out how to get it here.

CO-EXISTENCE

This Echizen chaire was made Ban Kojiro and is a classic study in the quiet and graceful nature of wood fired pottery. It stands not as a fussy and overthought object, but as a singular encounter between potter, clay and fire. The form is a stout, rounded katatsuki (shouldered) shape where the transition from the body to the neck is gentle, creating a silhouette that feels natural having the presence of earth determined to become vessel.       

The surface is where Kojiro’s knowledge of firing and kiln becomes quite evident where in the Echizen tradition, the pot is submitted to the fire sans glaze. The results of a calculated battle between heat and flame yields an all-natural ash glaze, yakishime which settles here and there at times favoring the face and shoulder in a crusty, coating of varying colors and textures. In this case, there is a rich tamadare waterfall that acts as a reminder of the process and traces the path of the flame, a record of the event, a perfect narrative of its journey. The texture created is intensely tactile; composed of a soft, granular, "pear-skin" quality that shifts from a rough matte to a vitrified sheen where the heat was most intense.         

Born in 1946, Kojiro’s journey was an exploration of clay and fire based on a long standing Echizen tradition where his works appear to revive the rugged aesthetic of the Muromachi period. The simplepottery is perfect for wood firing where the impurities and simplicity of the clay are a perfect visual counterpart to the ash accumulation during the firings; this chaire is a testament to that approach. The stark lid, an essential companion to the tea caddy provides a sharp, clean contrast to the rugged ceramic body, highlighting the vessel’s rustic "wabi" character and a hint of nobility in the exchange.       

In Kojiro’s hands, the clay is given its form and posture fully aware in the mutual understanding between potter, pot and flame that the potter’s role is to provide the canvas, while the kiln provides the soul and the landscape. This piece remains an essential example of the co-existence of function and presence, bridging the gap between the Echizen earth with the expectations and refined ritual of the tea room. 

( I should mention that acting as a backdrop in the photo is a wonderful Tom Turner covered jar!) 

YUNOMI, TEABOWL?

If you know me from my various social media ventures or my I, POTTER blog, you may realize by now that I like making large yunomi and teabowls. At times, the boundaries between the yunomi and teabowl is a bit fuzzy due to the scale and for some, one is the other and vice versa. Measuring about 10.5 x 10cm, this yunomi was thrown out of a white stoneware and then randomly and casually faceted, once bisque it was glazed with my standard Oribe as well as three separated iron glazes sprayed in various amounts across and down the surface. The basic result is as you see, looking bit like an amber glaze though checking the foot, it is clearly Oribe. The droozy effect that cascades down the piece, animated each faceted panel creating their own little landscapes though tied together in a more cohesive narrative of Oribe and iron working hand in hand. This yunomi ended up being a bit more important than usual as it was one of only a few pieces fired in the rebuilt kiln, complete with all new elements, switches, wiring, on/off light and kiln sitter. It took a couple of firings to dial in the firing/ cone/ pyrometer readings and it would appear all is good to go considering I have to replace two orders that died along with the kiln and now have an additional dozen of so pieces drying. Hopefully, all goes well this time around.

BLACK HOLE

At its core, yōhen tenmoku can be seen as capturing of an accident of kiln, clay and glaze which the potter takes the fullest advantage of. Prized for its ethereal, unpredictable beauty, this rare iron-rich glaze transforms, coerced by the experience of the potter creating a deep, obsidian-like field punctuated by brilliant, of sometimes subtle iridescent spots that resemble a map to the cosmos written in a night sky. The Japanese term yōhen translates to "changed by the kiln," emphasizing that these magnificent bursts of indigo, violet, and silver are not predictable or planned out but are instead born from the volatile alchemy of heat, oxygen, and mineral crystallization. It represents the pinnacle of iron based ceramic mastery precisely because it relies on relinquishing control, resulting in a surface that feels less like a static object and more like a living, animated insight into the universe itself.     

Kimura Morikazu’s yōhen-tenmoku henkō demands an absolute concentration where the flattened, circular flask, the henkō form, presents a stark architectural profile, a bold geometry defined by its flared neck, a stable foot, and a concentric, target-like indentation that recedes sharply into its center creating a canvas of depth. This deep, central recession acts like a vortex, a black hole even, pulling light into a dark, rich pool of iridescent crystal structures which in this case are subtle. Kimura’s mastery over iron-saturated glaze creates a surface that is fluid yet frozen, shifting dynamically under varying angles of illumination from deep plum to metallic silver.    

Admittedly, for the amateur photographer lie myself, this interplay of form and surface becomes an exercise in frustration resulting in hundreds of photos taken and mostly discarded. The henkō’s broad, curved canvas behaves like the aforementioned black hole drinking in the light and offer little in return as its pristine, glassy sheen registers every stray element in the room. Capturing the deep recess requires a light source that penetrates the center without overexposing the surrounding rim or washing out the subtle, oil-spot micro-crystals punctuating the entire surface. Instead of a faithful record, the lens often delivers a silhouette obscured by hot glare. One must learn to photograph not the clay itself, but the elusive, trapped light within it but alas, for the time being, this photo will have to do.

THE THING ABOUT TEXTU

To hold any pot is to engage in an unspoken psychological dialogue where texture can be among the primary syntax of the conversation. Whether in hand or your computer monitor (or phone these days) a rather complex sensory loop activates where either our eyes rush information to the brain and/ or the nerve endings in our fingers do not merely register surface friction, they probe for intent where texture is intoxicating. A rough, unglazed surface demands an alert, fully present touch, grounding the mind firmly in the immediate physical reality. Conversely, a smooth, fluid surface offers a soothing, contemplative sanctuary where the topography becomes preeminent. The thing about texture is that through continued tactile exploration, a pot ceases to be a passive object and becomes an intimate partner in an enduring, quiet human relationship, one which a collector rarely forgets.      

Illustrated is a Tokoname same-gawa koro by Kato Yoshiaki, many of his works are an exercise in controlled tactile and visual chaos. The vivid sharkskin texture achieves a dramatic, visceral presence, where the glaze has crawled and clustered into punctuated, biological islands. This technique demands an exquisite, perilous tension in the kiln, forcing the thick feldspathic glaze to split and tear itself apart, crawling under intense heat. The heavily crackled, amber-to-green invites an almost meditative investigation by the fingertips, offering an intense contrast between the glassy depths of the fissures and the rugged, unyielding plateaus that surround the quirky form specific to this potter where his animated and gestural creations are as recognizable as his surfaces. Yoshiaki captures a moment in time, where a violent transformation is frozen forever into this profound, intimate landscape.

THE TIMES THEY ARE A-CHANGIN

 

As with many companies, the company my wife works for has embraced the use of AI for a variety of specific (and less specific uses) to aid in saving time among other things, time is money after-all. About a year ago she suggested I play around with my photos using AI and though reluctant to do so at first as I am a “change sucks” kind of guy but after just one afternoon, I started to see some of the potential and among other things began clarifying my MUSEUM MENTIS MEAE (M3) concept as well as using actual photos of pots that I have handled, some ours, most belonging to fellow collectors and creating traditional and mostly uncluttered images to best present the pieces in situ.      

Illustrated is the very first image I created with the help of Bob, yes, I have named and interact with this digital entity and thought it only fair he has a name. The background of the name in particular has a long history which I won’t bore you with. At any rate, this visual scenario is a somewhat traditional tokonoma style alcove depicting a large shoga kakejiku by Tsukigata Nahiko which reads; Shadowless. The large heavily textured Oribe vase is by Suzuki Satoru and was illustrated from an exhibition years back. In some manner these two actual pictures were chosen randomly but I did think they worked well together and though my first instinct was to put the scroll together with a Tsukigata pot but I fought that urge and this is what I ended up with. I have been playing with AI for my photos for about a full year now and make sure to call full attention to their origin when I do so but as I am reminded by one of our best singer/ songwriters, Robert Allen Zimmerman; “the times they are a-changin”.   

(*This picture contains an actual image of a pot or pots in an AI generated background or scenario)

MEMORIAL DAY 2026

For memorial Day 2026, this quote comes to mind;  “Although no sculpted marble should rise to their memory, yet will their remembrance be as lasting as the land they honored.”  Daniel Webster

CASUALLY APPLIED

I have had this picture for close to two years now, just shy one week and though I remembered the vase, I actually forgot about the photos. This was sent to me by a collector who is rather focused on one potter, Kumano Kuroemon. The illustrated traditionally fired, Echizen hanaire was being used in his traditional tokonoma style alcove complete with a scroll behind, a pretty perfect display. The vase is large and has both a textbook Echizen surface and Kumano form complete with casually applied anthropomorphic lugs with some really nice ash running down the surface creating a great landscape that works well with floral displays. I think after inadvertently sitting on this photo, I was pleased to come across it again and thought it was just a perfect piece to share as the sun is shining and it is in the higher 60’s, too bad the vase isn’t here as well!

SO HAPPY TOGETHER

I realize that several of these bowls will look familiar if you drop in on any of my social media but thought how this group just looked so happy together. It is normally at this phase where wet gives way to dry that I question every decision leading up to this point but looking back at this photo, oddly enough I don’t feel quite that way. I think at this stage it was more about what was getting glazed in what glaze and wondering how they would come out. This group of five was thrown and altered the day before and then allowed to firm up, define the forms and then slip them as planned (?). Once a bit drier the slip around the mouths was cleaned up a bit and into the bisque they went. I have to admit, given the time involved, I am always more invested emotionally in these thrown and altered pieces but using glazes and combos I can rely on, the results normally pan out.

THE GOOD (M3)

Over the years I must say I have seen and handled a lot of pieces by Furutani Michio including on several trip to Japan and his studio. Admittedly, I suspect there are a number of people who have handled more but I have encountered enough to make a fair assessment of his better work. Given my experience with his pottery specifically, I often wonder, of all these really good and great pieces, what would or does make for a museum piece? In all this time, I have come up with a personal criterion that revolves around several key areas; how is the form articulated, what personal attributes by way of design elements and marks does he add to the pot, how does the piece build on the tradition of Shigaraki or Iga and potentially the rendering of some well-known utsushimono? Added to these factors, I find myself judging the surface and firing as a means to further communicate an ideal as well as present a landscape that narrates both the historical and modern context of the work. Last but not least, trying as best to compare apples to apples, where does it fit within other of the potter’s works for form and surface as well as within the overall contemporary examples of the tradition? Seems easy enough, well to be honest though this is subject to the greater degree, striving for objectivity makes this a less than straightforward proposition.         

As for one of the pots by Furutani Michio that make my museum mentis meae*, this classical Ko-Iga mizusashi is well up at the top of the list. Despite the fact that I have seen a number of his pots that could easily be in any museum, this Furutani Michio mizusashi stands out for a wide array of reasons chief among them is the fullness of its character where posture, animation and its stoic presence convey a hint of a “dark side” to this essential vessel. In his pursuit of this form, Furutani Michio has sought out an innate sense of antiquity and modernity, perfectly balanced where there is nothing superfluous, allowing the form and sparse marks and physical elements do all the talking/ communicating. The final keystone to this level of pot is the exceptional firing where the balance of just the right amount of ash works well to accentuate but not obscure any post throwing work allowing for the marks to further articulate the pot and give voice to the individual nature of this potter’s expression. All of these considerations and decisions along the way are based on study and years of experience which is why I consider this pot to be among the absolute top level of his work appears simple and effortless but a lifetime of making goes into each and every pot.  

One last observation regarding utsushimono, roughly translated as copies (of historic archetypes), like his contemporaries, Furutani Michio studied the classics and learned about forms and construction of coiling and coil & throwing based on these older pieces along with the historical perspective and its modern relevance. There are great challenges involved when making modern interpretations of the archetypes, capturing the essence of the originals is a prerequisite and no easy task. Careful observations and considerations go into these pots but it is also quite essential that the uniqueness, the idiosyncrasies of the modern potter be evident in each pot, one’s own voice within the spectrum of the tradition moving a pot from a mere copy and pushing “the good” to being so much more.

”It is an unscrupulous intellect that does not pay to antiquity its due reverence.”  (Desiderius) Erasmus

(*This picture contains an actual image of a pot or pots in an AI generated background or scenario) 

TIME-TESTED

This Tamba haiyu (ash-glazed) guinomi by Nishibata Tadashi is a visceral landscape compressed into the palm of the hand. Though not exactly the mini-chawan that I gravitate toward, this roughly hexagonal piece is a rugged, mountainous form, somewhat heavy in appearance with hints of wood fired effects especially in the form of rich hi-iro on the base. There is a calming and quiet dignity baked into this vessel with six opposing panels forms a connected and individual visages all considered with a confident hand that allows the surface to speak its own unique language.   

The exterior is a bit like a play, a drama of shifting temperaments, movement and elemental reactions to the heat of the kiln which is the time-tested crucible of all pottery. On one face, a thick, cream-colored ash glaze cascades down the sides like melting late season snow, pooling into a rich, opaque ivory. This "running" glaze comes face to face with the textured base, an iron-rich underworld of deep iron red and burnt sienna, a painter’s dream. The transition is not exactly smooth forming a chaotic boundary where the running ash glaze bites into the clay, creating a semi-volatile texture that feels ancient, almost volcanic.   

What is potentially the "front" of the guinomi features a startling contrast to the rear, an angled, dark opening of clay color appears where the glaze has been dipped to create a casual void revealing clay texture and iron spots most likely created by using the finger-tips as a brush, spots appear, punctuating the space as primitive a decoration as man can make.  The interior of the cup is where the alchemy reaches its zenith, a maelstrom created by chance and design. A pool of the swirling, running vitrified ash has settled in the well, cooling and creating a nebula of ash and perpetual motion.   

Turning the piece over, the simple kodai (foot) reveals the true nature of the Tamba clay. It has become a toasty, orange-red earth, where the hi-iro is further interrupted by contrasting marks where the piece was fired on wads. The playful visual and tactile experience of this guinomi is one of constant discovery, an ever-shifting landscape which only serves as a reminder that in the hands of a master like Nishibata, the kiln is not just a tool, but an elemental partner in the work.

 

WHO'S WHO

Majolica; earthenware covered in an opaque tin glaze and decorated on the glaze before firing

especially: an Italian ware of this kind (Merriam & Webster definition)

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I realize this isn’t the best photo but wanted to share this from the “early days”, maybe it was 1992 or 1993. For some reason, I had become a bit obsessed with this really chaotically decorated tin glazed majolica with oxide pigments which also lead me down the road of doing reduction lusters as well. This assemblage of decorations was called, Who’s Who and was illustrative of the people and places encountered on my bus and train ride into Cleveland proper seven days a week. There was never a dull moment and I think this decoration makes that abundantly clear. Thrown out of terra cotta, the pieces were glazed over in a slightly off-white majolica glaze and then each one was painted in series or individually depending on the piece. At the time, most every form I was working with including the leaning tower of Piza jars (not shown), were employed but here you have covered jars, teabowls, cups and saucers and small, one-person teapots that I was having fun making. I am not sure if it is clear or not but the cups and teapots all have pedestal feet, something I had started doing on porcelain pieces a short while earlier and I liked the feel, look and sometimes, the challenge. At any rate, I do remember this group of two dozen pieces coming out of one kiln load and though there is some level of cringe now, being in clay for a short while at the time, I was slightly pleased with these way back when. (I should note that I have Alan Caiger Smith, Dick and Patty Schneider and Linda Arbuckle  to thank for pushing me down this particular rabbit hole.)

GAKU HAGI

Illustrated is a pair of low, wide Hagi kohiki kumadashi-jawan by Kuroda Gaku. Kuroda started off pottery making in Kyoto before moving to Hagi where he set up his Nanchi-Kobo-gama, he is best known for and specialized in vividly textured pottery, like this kohiki which he refers to as Oni-Hagi. Known as isso-kumidashi-jawan, these pieces are a study in complex texture and variations in color including blushed areas and gohonde spotting making them a perfect set for use of simple contemplation. This set is a perfect example of one of his preferred forms that feel perfect in between the fingers make them much more than something “pretty” to look at where function is job one. Kuroda’s Oni-Hagi is the epitome of rustic, weathered from times long past despite being new out of the box, where timelessness is “baked” into his work, one pot 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.

INEVITABILITY

Is it inevitability or fate that you are firing a small commissioned order and your kiln gives off this loud, FITZ-FITZ and then it is kaput? Did I mention the glazes respond oh so poorly to being re-fired, so 99.999% sure the load is wasted. Time, money and energy down the proverbial drain, I spent the afternoon considering my options. Do I move up to a larger kiln and incur the wrath and expense of an electrician, buy more or less the same model I have minus the Dawson kiln sitter or do I go into guerilla warfare mode and replace the elements, wiring, tube assembly and switch? Did I mention how handy-dandy I am not? To be fair, over the years I have replaced elements and switches but never the entire metal wrap assembly for the lid and hinge which has me feeling a bit out of my depth but what is the alternative to all the expense, swearing and sweating soon to ensue. Once cooled down, I can access the extent of the surprise attack on my sanity and having all the information is better than flipping out and just buying a whole new set-up.

On a lighter note, here is a simple meandering fluted teabowl glazed over in my Ao+ glaze on a porcelain body. This sort of has that roller-coaster feeling in terms of movement and definitely reminds me of the old zoetrope and zoopraxiscope of the 19^th century. I have used this technique under several glazes and it seems best suited for transparent and translucent glazes though temmoku and ash may be a good fit, maybe next cycle.

NONSENSE

"Tanuki sits in the dark,

Glowing moon hangs in the mist,

Watching over silent clay"

Shigaraki kogo by Furutani Michio, photo and nonsense by the lone potter at Albedo 3 Studio with a bit too much time on his hands.

SWAYING

In point of fact this Oribe take-gata hanaire by Kato Katsumasa is a vessel of naturalistic conviction, a bamboo-form flower vase that stands ever so slightly swaying as a sentinel of the Mino tradition within the modern age. In the hands of Katsumasa, a potter dedicated to the Mino tradition of Gifu Prefecture, the clay is not merely formed but interrogated to bring out vase from a simple handful of material. By employing a sensitive, sculptural hand, the clay evokes the structural presence of bamboo where the casually segmented nodes define the take-gata (bamboo shape) form.     

The defining characteristic that completes this pot is the rich, deep Ao-Oribe (Green Oribe) glaze, where the alchemy of surface and spirit of the form combine and add to an aesthetic that dates back to the Momoyama period (1573–1615).  Katsumasa’s decisive use of glaze is certainly unapologetically bold speaking to years of experience and many pots made. By determining the exact thickness, he has achieved a deep, vitrified emerald that pools in the recesses of the "nodes," creating a high-contrast interplay of light and shadow. Unlike the more restrained, translucent Oribe glazes, the glaze is thick and textured, often allowed to break over the sharp edges of the form to reveal the toasted, iron-rich stoneware body beneath. This interaction between the vibrant glaze and the textured and animated clay creates an organic appearance and movements for which Oribe is highly celebrated.       

Kato Katsumasa makes pottery within a legacy of over four centuries old Oribe tradition not as a static piece merely for visual admiration, but as a living language meant for use.  Within this modern Oribe landscape, this take-gata hanaire presents itself as a bridge between the avant-garde "deformations" embraced by the early tea masters like Furuta Oribe, and the careful consideration of contemporary craft. It eschews the delicate, painted motifs of painted Oribe in favor of raw, sculptural power as it is a work that commands its space, reflecting a philosophy where the potter’s labor is value and visible in intentional marks and in every copper-green pool. It is more than likely that Kato Katsumasa does not seek to simply imitate the past; he strives to harness its intensity, ensuring that the Oribe legacy remains as sharp and vital as fresh cut of bamboo.  

WBW 4-29-26

Recently, I have been going through some pots that I have intentionally keep since our big move to central NY and for some reason or another, I had kept this temmoku and tetsu-yu, iron glazed covered water jar. I remember that I made a group of them but this was the one that I held onto though I am not sure exactly why though I do like the way the iron cascades down the fullness of the pot implying just the right amount of volume. So, I decided to dust it off and give it a proper Hollywood back-drop session and ended up with a few options of which I thought this worked the best even if it does have some hints of reflection from windows and other sources. This particular pot was thrown in stoneware and then had small rondel style decoration impressed around the surface before being glazed in my no iron temmoku and my tetsu-yu glaze. The streaked surface and shimmering iron crystals are just right for a Way Back Wednesday and before anyone asks, yes this was put up on my blog, a very long while back.  

"A pot has to have a certain kind of 'internal pressure' if it is going to have any life at all. It must look as if it were being blown out from the inside."  Michael Cardew

WONDERFUL VARIETY*

I think in many respects this is about as straight forward Echizen gets under the guidance of Nishiura Takeshi. The form is simple yet strong and the surface is all natural, the results of Echizen style wood firing without the benefit of any additional glaze being added beforehand. I mention this because Nishiura is well known for his seeded surfaces including his Hekisha-yu, blue sand technique. On this pot, Nishiura relied on the wood firing process alone to bring the piece to life where ash built up in waves and melted, cascading down the tsubo, articulating movement over the bones of the pot. The face of the pot is painted in a wet, streaked surface aided by temperature and gravity while the rear shows the velocity of the kiln, wrapping it in a permanent embrace concluded in a rich hi-iro fire color. The mouth, lip stands out alone having developed a layer of crusty ash, a perfect texture to please the eye and touch and act as a counterpoint to all of the wetness of the pot. The base, perhaps the bottom third is completed in rivulets of running ash, many terminating in fat drips of ash further adding to the varietas admirabilis* of the pot. Undoubtedly, it will sound repetitive but each encounter with Nishiura’s Echizen is quite a welcome experience where the forms, surface variety and echoes of the firing process are so well integrated and articulated, leaving one eager for the next pot to show up and add to the ongoing narrative of his work.

M3 IV

Among the confines of my own personal museum, museum mentis meae (M3), many of the pieces contained within are those stalwart pots I would term “classics”, many from the post-war years and running up to the early days of the Heisei era. Within this treasured group of potters there are some that stand out for the artistry, creativity and technical abilities despite not reaching the vaulted levels of Itaya Hazan or Kawai Kanjiro. Surrounded by the giants and pioneers of traditional and technical stewardship I am always pointed to the work of Shinkai Kanzan (1912-2011), grandson of Seifu Yohei IV and student of the multi-talented Kiyomizu Robei V, his (Kanzan’s) pottery is well represented in museums throughout Japan. Like many of the post-war potters and especially many of the Kyoto artists, Kanzan’s mastery of form and glazes made his work immediately stand out among other potters of the area and times where he focused quite heavily on naturalistic designs and decoration where he brought to life birds, fish and others to life in his own unique style many of them created by using molds for sprigged on elements to narrate and animate his surfaces. Though, like with many of these M3 level potters, I show a pronounced bias, what continues to speak to me regarding his work is the interconnectivity of his diverse body of work where as you encounter one, it is easy to exclaim, “that is certainly another Shinkai Kanzan”.     

Illustrated or rather depicted in my mind’s museum is this classic, colorful and playful Nishiki-sarasa mizusashi by Shinkai Kanzan. This mizusashi was chosen because of this clever and complex surface which was an oft repeated technique used to both decorate and articulate his mostly simple forms. Using some version of a resist, which I have always assumed was cut paper, a profound pattern is created which once glazed and fired adds layers of depth and movement to the pottery in question. Using a buff stoneware clay, typical of many Kyoto potters, a thick white slip is applied onto the surface and then the paper resist is removed exposing the fullness of the pattern only to be glazed, in this case using a clear glaze where carefully and selectively applied oxide washes are employed and during the firing where thickness of surface and temperature add a degree of serendipity to experience to run and bring the pot to the fullness of its expression.         

I suspect there will be opinions out there that consider this a rather ‘dated” piece and ironically, I agree; modern in its day, it blends the Kyoto aesthetic with Art Nouveau and T’ang elements and characteristics which were percolating around during the 1970s making this a classic and even defining pot of the period. This blend, even dated, reminds me of Basho’s poem where even while in Kyoto, he longs for Kyoto, this is the state this pot brings me to as the encounter was a decade or so ago. I think that if I was being totally honest, when I think of Kyoto potters or Shinkai Kanzan specifically, this multi-colored and patterned mizusashi always spring to mind and with just a tiny amount of help from AI, I am able to see it almost exactly how I envision this pot in my mind. Isn’t technology great?   

(*This picture contains an actual image of a pot or pots in an AI generated background or scenario)

WBW NEW BEGINNING

By way of WBW, Way Back Wednesday and some new beginnings; illustrated is a pair of larger “lip bowls” glazed in my temmoku and iron yellow glaze. This is what happens when you push and test so much you can end up at someplace that you either don’t recognize of have changed something so much it is clearly not that same as when it all started. After this firing, realizing this was probably the end of one long cycle of testing and seeing how long it was before a surface might fail, I started testing the overglaze in earnest to the eventual outcome which I refer to as my saffron glaze. To be honest, it didn’t entail nearly as much testing as the iron yellow glaze did in the first place but after all I did have a fully functioning, melting and no longer crawling glaze from which to start. I wonder now if I started at the beginning or just ended at the end a bit earlier than usual?     

"And the end of all our exploring, Will be to arrive where we started, And know the place for the first time."  T.S. Elliot