NEW LENS

Holding a vessel initially and fundamentally crafted for function is a moment of awakening, realizing that within the details of the form, structure and surface resides an entire culture’s spiritual and aesthetic transition which is alone, the quiet privilege of the potter. The evolution of the Japanese teabowl, or chawan, is not a story of sudden invention, but one of radical adoption, evolution and considered creation. It is at its core a story, centuries in the making of how an unassuming, utilitarian Korean rice bowl, like the Ido chawan, was discovered and focused on as a paragon later to be elevated from the communal kitchen to the absolute pinnacle of Japanese aesthetic philosophy within the distinctly Japanese ritual of chanoyu.    

In the beginning, the earliest days of the increasingly formalized tea gatherings, the dominant aesthetic prioritized perfection, in short and due course the ruling elite favored flawless, prized Chinese vessels known as karamono  (Chinese things). These imports were symmetrical, clad in immaculate celadon or dark, glossy tenmoku glazes and due to their perfection and exotic nature they were objects of prestige, commanding authority through their unblemished forms. As the tea masters, most notably Sen no Rikyū, began to reshape the ritual into something beyond prestige and elitism into a contemplative practice of profound mindfulness, the sense of the perfect rapidly lost their spiritual resonance. The early and formulative masters sought a spiritual and aesthetic connection that was intimate and unpretentious, where the goal shifted to searching inside one’s self as a bi-product of the ceremony.    

This departure is where chajin found this connection in the Korean Ido style chawan and other rustic and unpretentious vessels, the embracement of the wabi-sabi culture. Bowls that were favored were likely thrown by anonymous craftsmen as simple, everyday domestic ware for food and again, initially these bowls arrived in Japan without any fanfare or artistic pretense waiting to be “discovered” and re-accessed. The early teabowls were rough, their foot rings were often coarse, their glazes uneven, sometimes pooling into accidental droplets or cracking over the surface, they bore the visible markings of a rapid and casual making on the wheel throw where slight asymmetries/ irregularities like ridges created by throwing and distortions from the heat of the wood kiln all added to, contributed to this new aesthetic preference.    

As their exposure grew, tea masters sought out these pieces, holding these bowls and recognized them for their organic, unpretentious honesty. The transition from using these pieces for daily use to impressing them as the focus of chanoyu fundamentally shifted the direction of Japanese design, a new aesthetic was emerging and like a pebble, dropped into a pond, the ripples moved out and touched art and tradition throughout Japan. This new ritual and aesthetic birthed a preference for wabi-sabi, giving way to the appreciation to imperfection, the impermanent, and the incomplete.      

Viewed through this new lens of appreciation/ understanding, what a casual observer might dismiss as a flaw or irregularity became a focal point, prized details of meditation and contemplation. The irregularity of the rim offered a varied tactile landscape for the lips and presence and sense of volume of the vessel in the hands brought the physical and metaphysical in direct contact with one another. All of the features created shifting shadows under the dim light of a thatch-roofed tea room and the chawan became a mirror for the natural world: unforced, slightly weathered, and entirely unique.   

This shift altered Japanese ceramic and many other crafts productions indefinitely giving way to indigenous creation instead of relying solely on copying Chinese symmetry, local kilns like Raku, Shino, and Oribe began intentionally crafting vessels that embraced and revered the accidental and the austere through manipulation and intent, striving for those characteristics. The Korean rice bowl acted as both mirror and lens to the Japanese eye reveling that true beauty does not demand perfection of surface and form but rather, beauty resides in the quiet honesty and nature of raw materials, the hand of the maker, and the soft, weathered patina that comes with time and dedicated human touch.        

By way of this long-winded introduction and not exactly Ido related, looking back into the past, this chawan captures the essence and flavor of modern Ki-Seto, where the essentials of the Momoyama tradition is reinterpreted without losing its ancient soul. In this Hayashi Shotaro Ki-Seto Chawan, we witness an extraordinary display of this balance where the faceted wall profile provides a crisp, contemporary presence, a structure that commands the space effortlessly. The classic matte glaze surface punctuated with copper tanpan is expertly achieved here, catching the light with a soft, understated glow, presenting surface and form that effortlessly shifts back and forth between what has been and what can be in this century’s old tradition. 

What makes Shotaro’s vision so compelling is his control over classic Ki-Seto accents as the deep, weeping green copper (tanpan) splashes bleed down the facets with a sense of deliberate spontaneity and purpose, balanced with the pairing of the diffuse dark iron scorch marks that provide historical depth. Peering into the interior the interior continues to   reveal the soft matt surface which reflects a certain amount of volume back to the user. Finally, the unglazed foot in Hayashi Shotaro Ki-Seto chawan gives way to the raw clay and hints of clay now removed, exposing a perfectly crafted kodai, both pedestal and anchor. Modern masters like Shotaro remind us that we are merely temporary curators of a living, evolving tradition where chance encounters last long beyond the moment.