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.