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 tea bowl by Tsuguo Murokawa, 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.