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)