NON ITINERIBUS

To say our first trip to Japan (1990) was not exactly well planned out would be an understatement. We flew in to Osaka in late mid-November and made our way to Kyoto by shuttle. In what can only be described as tourist hubris I assumed my ability to read kanji and speak a few necessary lines of Japanese would be fine and we would wing our itinerary. This worked well in Kyoto, Osaka and Nara while visiting museums, temples, shops, galleries and other must see places but not so much in our first trek to Shigaraki to meet with various potters. We departed Kyoto by train, transferred to bus and made our way along the winding roadway to Shigaraki where it had begun raining for which we were totally unprepared. We visited a few shops in town and wandered up the road in the direction I suspected Furutani Michio had his studio only to realize we had no idea what so ever where we were or where to go and it was all of 9:30am.

What we did notice was that we found ourselves standing in front of a very nice Japanese home, walled in with a decorative  fence and with a simple sign reading, Honiwa Rakunyu. Not sure what to do we stood there for a while, in the rain, like complete foreigners when luckily a young woman came out and asked us, in English, if we were lost. We explained what our intent was, to visit Shigaraki potters and she asked us into the house had us sit down and her mother brought us tea and sweets, each skewered with little sharpened sticks, complete with their bark. After about 15 minutes or so, Keiko Okuda (nee Honiwa) told us she would act as our guide for the day and had appointments made to see Ueda Naokata, Otani Shiro, Furutani Michio, Kohyama Yasuhisa, Takahashi Rakusai, Takahashi Shunsai, Tani Seiemon and several others. We were exceptionally fortunate to have ended up at exactly the right place at the right time and meet such a wonderful family and our surprise guide.

After we made our way around Shigaraki, the Honiwa family prepared us a very late lunch/ early dinner and we meet her father, Honiwa Rakunyu. Dressed in traditional Japanese haori and hakama he showed us around his studio, kiln and showroom, showing us secret treasures from his private collection as well as pieces on display for sale. Though a bit stoic, he was animated and gracious and very pleased that these foreigners who showed up out of the blue had a keen interest in his chadogu and Shigaraki pottery. He presented (presento) us with a well fired tanuki kogo and guinomi both in their signed boxes. We had selected a wonderful and noble chaire to purchase with an exceptional bag made by Keiko for her father's chaire. It was a fitting memento for an experience we will never forget, a simple act of Shigaraki serendipity.

Illustrated is avery nice example of Shigaraki chaire by Honiwa Rakunyu II (1929-2002). Made in the early 1990s, we recently found this piece on a ubiquitous auction website and we were immediately brought back to that moment in November of 1990 when we first saw his work. Honiwa Rakunyu II, though not a native of Shigaraki moved there and studied with Honiwa Rakunyu I, succeeded to the name in 1962 and set a studio and a noborigama, later building his first anagama in 1971 which he  named, Kochu-gama. Though Rakunyu II made a wide array of Shigaraki ware he specialized in chadogu tea wares and it shows in his mizusashi and chaire in particular. At first glance his pots would also seem to have a sense of stoicism to them, like the maker, but there is a nobility and grace to their forms and surfaces. I have always found these pots to be simple, contemplative objects that reward the viewer who takes the time to study and listen to what each piece has to say.

YURIKO II

I found this photo searching around the web and was struck by the contrast of the milky ashy grey surface with the vivid red (yuriko) that punctuates the design on either side of the bowl. There is an undeniable mastery to Kawai's brushwork and his ability to manipulate space with his design and decoration, few if any are as capable. In a few experienced strokes, the pots breathes life and blends ceremony, function and presentation without a moment's hesitancy. As I look at his pots I can help but think how modern they must have seen at the time and now though they can be used to measure the modern pottery movement, they are positively timeless, they echo the past and present in this moment. If Kawai were alive today in more than just spirit, his pots would still continue to confront, engage and captivate the viewer with  a simple conversation about the present.

"I have realized that the past and the future are real illusions, that they exist only in the present, which is what there is and all there is."  Alan Watts (1915-1973)

IRON ON IRON

Illustrated is a sleek thrown and altered oval baker form with lugs at each end and lobed in the center, front and back. Glazed in iron on iron, the decoration creates a sense of quadrants that coincides with the lobes and ends of the piece. I like making these pieces going all the way back to the early 90s after seeing both Ron Meyers and Jeff Oestriech create ovaled pieces, the former, casual, immediate and direct and the later exacting, well thought out and precise. Taking from both schools of creation, there is always room for both in one's vocabulary, this one being tighter and more structural, the details are added to accentuate the form and highlight its mode of manufacture. Truth be told, after all the wheel throwing I have done it is great to break the routine and take a thrown cylinder and cut, paste, fold and mutilate. Just another aspect of making pots.

"The less routine the more life."  Amos Bronson Alcott (1799-1888)

TORUKO-AO HACHI

Illustrated is a wonderful Persian blue shallow bowl (Toruko-ao hachi) on a pedestal foot by Ningen Kokuho; Kato Takuo. The rim is decorated with flowers and birds while the center depicts a noble Persian prince astride an Arabian stallion, the black underglaze has a slight blue hue to it as it peers through the rich glaze. I have seen a large number of Kato Takuo's toruko-ao pots and each one has a sense of ageless nobility to them and though heavily decorated, each one has an appropriateness showing no signs of an heavy handiness. Kato new exactly how much design/decoration a pot could handle and what was needed to depict his intent and never wasted a single brush stroke. For Kato Takuo, like so many other potters, big things are still made up of all the minute details.

PERFECTION REVISITED

Perfection is a tricky thing unless you are speaking about scientific or mathematical perfection. What I have come to think is that perfection is an amalgam of a myriad of mistakes or imperfections that one way or another tricks the senses into perceiving the perfect. If you have ever used an instrument to measure a thrown pot which appears perfectly round, you will be amazed that it is anything but. Years ago, my wife and I knew a guy who cast specific parts for the US Air Force emergency response equipment. These cast pieces had to be perfect; they were weighed to within 1/1000 of a gram, tested with a durometer for exact hardness, measured with varying calipers to measure within 1/10,000 of an inch and finally x-rayed to be sure there were no voids, casting flaws, etc. For such items and certainly other scientific objects and calculations, perfect has to be absolutely perfect.

My latest conundrum is at what point does a perfect pot have to be perfect, specifically porcelains celadon pieces? There is a purity and simplicity, even a brutal honesty to these pots; to some sterile and boring, to others breath taking, inviting and serene, that is the foundation of these works. Despite your viewpoint, there is a resolute perspective that these pots should be as perfect as is possible.

In my blog I have covered wood fired pieces as being perfect if they are in the same condition the potter unloaded them from the kiln or placed them in a signed box, scars and all, but for porcelain, especially celadons, a whole different set of rules applies*. Beyond the obvious of good form, symmetry and visual balance there is perfection without being cold, boring or lifeless. If you think of potters like Kawase Shinobu, Meada Akihiro and Fukami Sueharu, can you imagine a piece with pinholes, a blemish or two, glazed voids, glaze drips or overlaps, areas of crawled glaze? While these "faults" work well with the way a potter like Kato Tsubusa works, the truth is, these pieces are held to a higher standard of perfection because of their simple surfaces, any imperfection is glaringly obvious and seems magnified tenfold. With opaque celadons, I personally find no room for any imperfections but with transparent and translucent glazes ever so minor blemishes don't necessarily doom a piece; think of the small pinholes and iron spots in the various seiji surfaces of Shimizu U'ichi and even Okabe Mineo. Over time, the one thing that I have discovered is that "perfection" is ultimately defined by and relative to what the pot is, varying wildly from style to style and what is acceptable with Iga-yaki is no where palatable with painted Imari porcelains.

Illustrated is an Ouji mizusashi by Hokkaido potter, Ono Kotaro. His pots are hand thrown and hand carved to utter perfection and his fit and finish of his pottery is exceptional. As a potter (and collector) the mind reels as I imagine how he is able to maintain such exacting curves and create such a perfect surface. Years of patient training, experience and muscle memory all combine to present hand made perfection.

"Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away."  Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1900-1944)

(*Restrictions, exceptions and exclusion may apply.)

 

 

 

INLAY

A fairly rare and interesting vase arrived here today by a master of inlay, Kondo Yutaka. Using the elemental  but contrasting colors of black and white, Yutaka has created a vivid and highly animated vase with his textbook decoration, textured black surface and vivid white inlay created by stamping and the use of a rouletting tool. Kondo Yutaka (1932-85) was the son of Ningen Kokuho Kondo Yuzo and studied with his father as well as Tomimoto Kenkichi and Fujimoto Yoshimichi (Nodo) both Living National Treasures as well. On a trip to Korea and China, Yutaka who was drawn to black and white was heavily influenced by the Korean ware known as punch'ong and rapidly developed a unique style based on the historic archetype. This vase is a classic example of this inlay work and is a highly developed example of a synthesis of function and aesthetics at which he excelled. There is a tremendous amount communicated in only black and white with such a simple and well executed idea.

BLUE MONDAY XXII

Measuring in at about six inches tall this small vellum blue jug was inspired by looking around at Fifties design, including the early work of Lucie Rie and Hans Coper. Designed for use from frig to table, this small pitcher is excellent for milk, cream, gravy or even maple syrup and was made to be functional. The pot was thrown out of porcelain with a sharp lip to help cut the flow of liquid when pouring and then had slip applied and carved through with a sharp stylus. In hand the dark band of slip around the jug and at the lip has blue hue where the cobalt in the slip was accentuated by the glaze. I only made a few of these created mostly for fun but the vellum glaze is proving to be rather versatile across a wide array of forms and can be used thick or thin for varying surfaces.

 

RINGKNOPF

Illustrated is a simple, straight forward iron yellow kushime covered jar with a type of knob I have used off and on for quite some time. This ring knob is made by pulling a length of clay, the same way you would pull a handle making sure to keep the pulled coil round. When I am pulling it I make sure the center part is just a bit thinner than the ends will be which allows for a good amount of clay to attach to the lid. I let it set up for a bit before bending it in half and cutting to size. Once attached, I use the end of a paintbrush to create a discernable circle within the knob and this helps create the impression of a ring set on the lid. There is nothing to fancy or complicated about the process or end result, but it is the details that get the job done.

"I have put my heart and soul into my work, and have lost my mind in the process." Vincent Van Gogh

OUTSIDE THE BOX

For Kako Katsumi, thinking outside the box or rather on top of the box would seem second nature. Illustrated is a Jomon influenced covered box, futamono by Kako with alternating areas of carved pattern and ash glazed panels and interior. The lid is of simple, yet well carved wood with a rich pattern atop which is affixed an ash glazed knob. The rustic knob ties in well with the surface and curved decoration of the box all the while serving as a perfect addition to a rather decorative and functional pot. Though the use of a ceramic knob on wood is not necessarily unusual, Kako Katsumi has made excellent use of this device which ties together the ceramic and wood components flawlessly, detail after detail ending in the creation of the whole.

良い、悪いと醜い

I'll start out by saying when it comes to choosing, making and addressing knobs for lids, I am not batting 100%, that being said, I have become aware that fewer get it right than those who get it wrong. With knobs as well as other pots, addressing knobs can seem a bit like; the good, the bad and the ugly; there is no hard and fast rules or science to getting varying pieces parts to work together and lidded pots, like teapots are a good example of that. A good knob should be an extension of the lid and of the pot, it should compliment the overall form as well as preforming a function. Some knobs are organic and seem to just "sprout" from the lid and form and others are intentionally made to look added to the form, yet still are tied in to the pot to create a cohesive presentation.

I began thinking about this the other day after a fellow collector asked me my opinion regarding a Shigaraki mizusashi. The pot was very nice and was exceptionally well fired and by a big name potter but the knob seemed like an after thought and seriously detracted from the overall presentation. If you imagine a somewhat irregularly and organic pot with a small section of pipe like knob sticking out of the lid you can get the picture. It seriously looked out of place on the pot and I wonder what the potter was thinking when he made the lid and knob? I know it is easy to play arm-chair quarterback after a pot is made and recognize my own short comings but the only way to get these details right is to study, look at lots of pots and make even more and always remember the devil is in the details and everything a potter does is the details.

Illustrated is a picture a friend sent me of a very fine Iga mizusashi with the potter who made it; Kojima Kenji. This pot is from a December 2014 exhibition of Kojima-san's pots and it is obvious that the knob is an organic extension of both lid and pot. The knob appears to fulfill its functional requirements while making a visual statement as well, all in all a well conceived and executed mizusashi with a great keshiki and color.