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.

TROCADERO

I am shutting down my trocadero marketplace which lasts until 8/4/2026. If these is anything that you are interested in, please send me some reasonable off and many thanks for all the years of browsing my corner of this market.

                     https://www.trocadero.com/stores/albedo3studio/catalog/

INTERSECTION

A pottery collector friend of mine who only collects American pots asked me recently what it is about Japanese pots that has seduced me away from more local pieces. I have thought about this for quite some time and I think for me there is a visual and visceral texture and authenticity to the pieces that I like, they use tradition as a springboard and many rarely stray too far from that ideal but just enough to give voice to the clay which I should also note can be said for wide swaths of Western pottery. It is not that Japanese pottery is exotic but rather elemental and honest with dashes of panache, subtlety and rusticity that ends up being conversant to my sensibility, that creates an emotional resonance that I am truly captivated by.   

Case in point is this provocative Oni-Shino chawan by Tsukigata Nahiko (NMPNMP). Illustrated in several sources, this is the pinnacle of Oni-Shino and is that perfect amalgam of tradition and modernity where creativity, concept, talent and technique all intersect. Though these very same attributes occur in Western pottery, perhaps it is the vessel, the forms and the wellspring of tradition that has my gaze focused on the east, I am not 100% sure but I can say, very little is as elemental and exhilarating like that of an exceptional example of a modern Japanese chawan.

ALIGNMENT

Illustrated is a well-articulated Ki-Seto  tokkuri by Iwatsuki Takemitsu which creates an atmosphere a bit less like a polite homage to tradition and more like a bold, deliberate challenge. In a contemporary ceramic landscape dominated by the likes of Hori Ichiro, Hayashi Kyosuke and the late Kagami Shukai, much of Ki-Seto can sometimes settle into a predictable, uniform amber glaze but Takemitsu seems to ask how far the medium’s inherent instability can be embraced without losing its classic sensibility creating his own unique pathway within this tradition.          

The tokkuri’s surface invites a slow, tactile inspection and rather than aiming for the slick, pristine finish often associated with modern productions, Takemitsu develops a semi-wet landscape with lobes and potter’s mark that breathe life into the simple form. A dense network of fine crackle weaves across the body, breaking the light and giving the glaze a soft, aged complexity punctuated by tanpan copper and tetsu iron element creating stark, semi-abstract imagery floating freely, organically presenting an almost moody gravity. Where the glaze thickens, the green deepens into dark, smoky undertones, recording the subtle shifts of atmosphere within the kiln. What emerges is a surface and form that feels alive precisely because it isn't entirely controlled, where the original form has been broken down at the potter’s hand where what could have been static has become motion. Takemitsu demonstrates that the modern evolution of Ki-Seto doesn't require reinventing its historical vocabulary, but rather trusting that the alignment of potter, clay, glaze and fire reveal something processed with a spirit on the verge of losing total control.         

On a more personal note, I collected this Ki-Seto tokkuri in the hopes that it would match up well with the guinomi I have by the same potter. Though perhaps a bit wetter in appearance, it seemed like a safe bet that they would be close enough to be comfortable together with a slightly more organic tokkuri and a bit more formal guinomi could pull together in the same space. Well, at the moment that is just not to be, after quite a bit of preliminary searching, I just don’t seem to be able to locate the guinomi off hand. To be fair, we don’t have a huge collection but our stored pieces and empty wood boxes are all in our designated “storage facility”, the closet and my current thought process is that somewhere at the very back corner rests the piece I am looking for. Locating this guinomi will just have to wait even though its potential mate is calling out for it. All good things come to he who waits (?).

WBW 7222

This is a perfect covered jar for a way back Wednesday post. This was made in 2012 and if you are inclined, it is posted twice before on my blog, once as a group of bisque and once as a group recently fired and unloaded. I like making this form and the stepped lid with the ring knob which was always well suited for my temmoku and iron glazes. The movement created in the melting iron glaze animates the surface a bit and is a nice contrast to the rich deep temmoku base glaze. As a side note, for whatever reason, none exactly that spring to mind, this is still sitting on a shelf in the studio and every now and again I give it a good dusting only to remember that it is filled with boxes of Orton pyrometric cones that I rarely use; some for low, low temperatures for enamels and some cone 11 and cone 12, most of which I may not ever get around to using but never is a very, very long time.

FORTUITOUS MOMENT

In case you haven’t noticed from my posts on my I, POTTER blog as well as on Facebook and Instagram, I have a real thing for shadows (and sunlight) and their interplay with pottery and their unique forms. This may have started many decades ago when I first read Tanizaki’s IN PRAISE OF SHADOWS, but honestly, it likely goes back to my childhood. I think I was equally fascinated by the sight of row after row of medieval knight toy soldiers as I was the shadows they cast in the late afternoon.  This photo is one of those fortuitous moments where I walked into the room at just the right moment to get a fairly cool shot of this exceptional slab henko by Furutani Michio. The shadow and light show off the form and surface yet keep it cloaked in darkness and a bit of mystery adding a deep narration regarding this pot if only you let your mind wander in that direction. Though this is not exactly a great photo, the idea is great to bring thought and contemplation of potter, pottery and idyllic wood fired landscape to the very forefront, it is simple yet filled with subtleties, nuances and effects that tell its story, born out of clay and fire and the creative ingenuity of a master potter just like Furutani Michio.     

"Were it not for shadows, there would be no beauty."  Tanizaki Junichiro

MIMITSUKI

The are very few pots so elemental and imbued with an absolute physical presence as that of wood-fired pottery where the nearly endless and varying landscapes effects paint a picture in fire and ash. Though not fired to the excess of some modern pieces, this exceptional mimitsuki hanaire (lugged flower vase) by the twentieth-century master Konishi Heinai II shows off a sense of seasoned nobility where restraint and just the right touch bring the clay to life. In its creation, a duality has been born, a stark contrast exists between its faces and the reverse is locked in where you witness the raw and unapologetic narrative of a Momoyama-inspired vision brought to life.    

The surface of this hanaire is a simple lesson in the wabi-sabi aesthetic, the front facade presents an asymmetric landscape of scorched clay, vertical scoring lines, and trails of natural ash glaze that runs down its flank, simple and evocative in its presentation. It would be quite difficult to mistake this vase as passive pottery; it is a lively conversation and active confrontation with the fire. The flared and dramatic mouth is cloaked in an array of effects from matt, smokey charcoal to a richer, wetter green ash pointing to the all-natural accumulation characteristic of intense wood firings. As you turn your attention around the pot the transition reveals the build-up of ash on one side versus the dry, charcoal scorched planes on the other, embodying a sense of unrefined, timeless decay that celebrates imperfection, impermanence, and the simple integrity of the medium with what I think of as slightly ominous undertones.    

In the historical vocabulary of Iga-yaki, the mimitsuki or attached "ears" (lugs) are far from mere ornamentation they reflect a certain expected nobility in Iga-yaki. Historically rooted in Iga’s past, these prominent, hand-sculpted lugs, though just a vestige of their original actual function, add a visible, structural balance to the form and serve to anchor the vessel’s posture as well as break up the verticality of the pot. These aesthetic additions provide a structural counterweight to the often heavily distorted, paddled and gently manipulated cylindrical nature of the piece coordinating with the neck, mouth and lip to give these pieces their iconic, architectural silhouette.        

Without these lugs, many Iga vase forms risks losing their distinct attitude and some measure of its identity; they frame the vessel’s torso, break up any uniformity and help spotlight its deliberate, hand-altered asymmetry. Drawing on his master’s instruction and centuries of established and well-known Iga archetypes, Konishi Heinai II understood that these elements must be entirely natural and feel deeply integrated, acting as extensions forged directly from the core rather than mere contrived afterthoughts and additions. Ultimately, Heinai II was committed to keeping medieval traditions alive, approaching the kiln with a mindset that valued historical archetypes while demanding a visceral, textured finish, form and presence. This hanaire stands as a testament to that philosophy—a powerful work that commands attention through sheer physical presence and its look back into the past.

DIVERSITY

As odd as it may sound, my mind tells me that there shouldn’t be that huge of a difference between my Hagi white that has a pinch of tin and the clear glaze that I use related to what they do with the various iron treatment I use. That being said, what I think and what I can observe are two very different outcomes. The effects, nuances and subtleties have ended up being quite different and if you look back on any posts that mention Hagi white and iron washes you can see how much it differs that the clear and iron washes.  This illustrated faceted yunomi was first glazed in a medium application of my clear glaze and then had two washes of iron applied over. The real appear is the iron melts into the clear and then gravity and heat take over and the surface begins to migrate south and, in this movement, it creates its own visual movement and nice cascading effects. Though my mind continues to conflate the two surfaces, I am glad they are different and look quite different as well, though it does get a bit of a problem making up and store even more glazes, the cost of diversity, I guess.

WAY BACK

This is one of those pictures from way back, perhaps 1990? This was our first trip to Shigaraki Valley and of course no trek there would be complete without stopping at the studio of Otani Shiro. I don’t need to recount the unplanned travel itinerary that we were rescued from by the daughter of Honiwa Rakunyu II but luckily Otani-san was home and willing to indulge two foreigners. This is a photo from the inside of his studio where he showed us some recent pots and the tools and clay he used, it was quite an education and awakening as was the stops at a number of other potters in the region. Seeing all these pots first hand, mostly for the first time ever was such a rewarding experience, who could have every imagined that something like the internet would come along and make all of these interactions far easier, all at the end of a keyboard?

IT IS WHAT IT IS

I got down to the wire and was rather involved in writing a post that it became quite clear I was not going to get finished and posted up. It happens especially when you try to draw in ceramic critics like Hayashiya Seizo and Koyama Fujio, this will have to wait for another day. Instead, I thought I would put up this obtuse and mysterious sunlit and shadowy picture of a large Hagi henko by Yamato Tsutomu, enjoy?

THE USUAL CIRCUMSTANCES

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

WIZARDRY

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

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

RELIC

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

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

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

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

BUMPTY-BUMP

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

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

PC&F

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

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

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

PEDIGREE

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

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

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

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

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

TOO HIGH

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

 

(CU) MAJESTY

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

SHINSAI KAMON

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

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

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

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

QUICK POST, SIMPLE POT

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

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.