”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)
A Rambling Blog About A Potter And Pots
”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)
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.
especially: an
Italian ware of this kind (Merriam & Webster definition)
..................................................................................
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.)
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.
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 19th 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.
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.
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.
"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
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)
"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
The very form and surface of this koro is defined by well-conceived undulating surface of curvilinear fluting that converges, narrowing, constricting toward the base and the rim, creating a dynamic sense of tension, compression and expansion both real and perceived. These carved grooves serve a dual purpose: they provide a structural, neo-Gothic (?) architecture for the eye to follow and act as channels for the wood ash to pool and break during the intensity of the firing.
The glaze is an applied ash to add life to the pot without hiding away the carved details, while the piece was gently fired in some sheltered spot in the wood kiln which was likely immersed in long hours of a pine-fueled fire. The applied ash works well across the surface, creating highlights and an almost sesame seed style surface which adds some depth and movement to the already animated form. The contrast between the toasted, iron-rich clay body and the ash, finalized by the flames finally steps in to complete the work the potter initiated when there was nothing but a ball of clay at the wheel.
The lid is particularly noteworthy for its openwork (sukashi) design. The four-petaled floral motif is not merely decorative; it is a functional aperture through which the incense smoke would traditionally rise, trailing like mountain mist. The carving here is confident, mirroring the deep fluting of the body and ensuring the vessel maintains a cohesive visual weight from base to knob and as was intended, the lid works together with the carved form, as both compliment and the completed element. Though small, from its design to its creation, Gerd Knapper completed this in his mind’s eye before he even wedged the clay.
I have been going through old files and decided to put up this slideshow video of a Shigaraki tsubo by Ogawa Seiho. This, in motion, well, sort of in motion shows off some details of this traditional Shigaraki tsubo and fills in some of the blanks that are certainly missed on a single static image. Hope this helps a bit.
The form of this particular guinomi is architectural yet intimate; it features a bold structure, where the clay has been shaped in decisive yet simple geometric strokes. This physical movement built into the pot does not merely create a shape; it creates a landscape for the hand and eye to navigate. The rim, slightly undulating and rhythmic, offers a tactile invitation that engages a user to accommodate themselves to its use. As for the kodai, the foot, its modelling is both creative and well-conceived for stability and the tactile encounter suggesting the diminutive vessel sprung from the earth rather than having been sculpted to its conclusion.
Examining the surface, the piece is a is a balance of simplicity and elegance where the kiln’s atmosphere of heat, sodium and a hint of reduction paint the form. The kohiki slip provides a creamy, parchment-like canvas, but it is the enyu process—the introduction of salt into the kiln at peak temperature, has brought a soul to the surface. This technique produces a subtle mesmerizing blush and minute texture to the surface encapsulating the clay. This warm, toasted pinkish bloom, surrounds the curves and lines of the guinomi like a slow-moving sunrise, a simple, poetic landscape. The contrast between these soft, peachy blushes and the occasional dark, crackled texture and the gohonde spots creates a visual depth that rewards long contemplation despite its simple nature. It is a vessel that does not demand attention through volume, but rather earns it through the quiet elegance of its complexion and the confident strength of its bones. Though this is just a quiet guinomi, it is in its appreciation and use that whispers of simplicity and the transitory expression of mono(no)awase fill the cups void to the lip.
This particular bowl, a bit ovalled and with undulating lip was entirely black slipped before applying and combing the white over and the base is entirely black except the foot ring which is the soda blue coloration over stoneware. As you can see, the texture and depth of the slip creates a neat effect altering the glaze color as it moves around the bowl and there is a really intriguing band of almost indigo blue at the base where the bowl and bottom join which makes for a nice accent. I have to admit, I am thinking that I prefer more straight forward thrown vessels for this soda blue glaze but may need to make a few more thrown and slightly altered pieces to get a fuller perspective, just one more thing on the list to get to sometime in the next year or so!
Perhaps one peculiar facet of this mizusashi is that it was made by Kaneshige Motoo of one of the 20th centuries most important Bizen dynasties, in fact, he is son number four of Kaneshige Toyo, Ningen Kokuho, a hold of the tradition of the region. Though working in and made in Bizen, Okayama prefecture, this mizusashi has the appearance of Iga-yaki, the traditional pottery of Mie Prefecture, a style chosen by Motoo perhaps in part to distance and distinguish himself and his work from that of his father and brothers, each of them widely recognized for their Bizen-yaki. Whatever prompted Kaneshige Motoo to embrace Iga-yaki is immaterial what is more consequential is that using Iga clay and firing methods have been enhanced by his nuanced use of those traditions forms and aesthetic idioms leading to a distinctly organic creation of Iga pottery. This mizusashi along with the countless others stands as a delightful addition, surrounded by a vast array of traditional wood fired pottery creating an island of Iga within an ocean of Bizen-yaki.
"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main" John Donne
The truth is that many modern Japanese traditions and movements rely on their Chinese or Korean origins and this Sansai mizusashi is no exception. Beyond the tri-colored pottery, Kato works with hakuji, temmoku and ransai where his meticulous throwing and craftsmanship can not escape scrutiny of the viewer and where near perfection is called for. I chose this “sansai hana-mizusashi” as a classical and highest quality object by Kato Kiyokazu to reside in my Museum mentis meae where the nobility, tradition, history and aesthetics all come together in a clear vision where the viewer may leave the object behind but the conversation is likely far from over.
“I want to establish a form of aesthetic beauty that blends a soft gentle atmosphere with a sharp, focused sense of tension.” Kato Kiyokazu
(*This picture contains an actual image of a pot or pots in an AI generated background or scenario)
In trying to sort out a ton of files and videos, I happened across this video of an older mentori and stamped Oribe style teabowl that I made in 2023 (?). I thought this was a rather simple bowl; simple form, simple and direct faceting, periodic stamp placement and the bare minimum for my Oribe glaze, only two glazes instead of five. I think the video conveys some of the volume and some movement (from the past).
Illustrated is another photo of a rather dramatic and bold Iga chawan by Kishimoto Kennin. Using a photo of a half-moon that I took a long while back, I created this image without the aid of any photo manipulation or AI, just old fashion 1950s technicolor technology. I choose this moon image because as with most wood fired chawan, the front and back usually have different landscapes, in this case, the from is juicy and wet and the back is drier ash and hi-iro but the textures of both images seemed to work well to my eye at least. Having the chawan in hand, I also find it quite interesting how it affects my mood more so as the sun goes down allowing the bowl to “dance by the light of the moon”, balancing skillfully, exuberance and a sense of impermanence. It may sound overly sentimental but I am struck by the solemnity and moodiness of this chawan; was it intentional, baked in or is it just me?
(* A B-52s reference and homage to Quiche Lorraine)
These slabs are all quite wet and once a bit drier, the forms will be addressed closer to how they should look and the edges, the sides will have a bevel created and then scored for better assembly. I think I have repeatedly made it clear I am not much of a hand-builder, always reluctant to move in that directions but there are always those times when what I see in my head and want in three dimensions defies throwing, no matter how much you rely on the concept of T&A (thrown and altered) and that is exactly what is staring me in the face this time around.
Depicted in my mind’s museum with the help of AI*, this mizusashi is a classic representation and even near perfection of but one of the many specific types of Oni-Shino, the surface is clear, active and even luminescent with areas of ash built up around the entire form and appearing like a tamadare style waterfall cascade at the very front of the form. Among this avenue of Oni-Shino, there is a singularity of nobility present in this pot which Tsukigata choose to name, “Snowy Egret”. With the name, it clearly echoes the regal and naturalistic qualities and there are few better examples where form, surface, firing and concept all have pulled together through experience and serendipity to create a museum level work. As you look beyond the depth of this complex surface, the bones of the pot are pure functional simplicity, cloaked in a lyrical and contemplative visual narration of fire and a coalesced landscape present a near perfect object for the ritual of tea ceremony. In the end, I choose this mizusashi for my museum because of its sustained nobility and its classic character and characteristics of Tsukigata Nahiko, qualities the best pots exude and many pots and potters should aspire to.
“To appreciate the noble is a gain which can never be torn
from us.” Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
(*This picture contains an actual image of a pot or pots in
an AI generated background or scenario)