I
don't really dislike hand building, what I actually dislike is the need for
patience that goes along with the process. In throwing, I have become quite
accustomed to the need to wait for pots to firm up, usually overnight before
they can be tooled and decorated. With hand building, I haven't built up the
tolerance to waiting and as soon as I roll out a few slabs my mind wants to go
ahead and build which as one can guess rarely works out that well. The slabs
for this particular teapot were rolled out after I finished tooling thrown pots
at the end of the day and then placed on fiber boards used for drop ceilings to
start to dry overnight and in the morning, coffee cup in hand and 80s music on
the stereo, I set to building a pair of these "facade" teapots which despite
their appearance are fully functional. The generic name for this decoration is
called "waiting" which as you may guess has multiple meanings; the
obvious subject matter is about waiting, the process to build the pieces is
about waiting and lastly it is all about waiting as to when to decorate the
pot. The title of this particular t-pot is "Waiting in Istanbul, Not
Constantinople" a play of the TMBG song from 1990. I enjoy decorating pots
with these "Its still life" themes as it allows the viewer to create
and narrate their own stories or bring up experience from their own lives so have at it.
In many respects if you are
navigating New York we live almost in the exact middle, the crossroads of where
ever you may be traveling in the State and on the odd occasion I have had
people drop by for a little bit of show and tell knowing my approximate
coordinates. In this particular instance, a collector/dealer emailed and we
arranged for a quick fly-by to show me a couple of pots that he couldn't
identify and wanted what input I could offer. The pots were two nice pieces, a
Bizen chawan, no box and a large porcelain hakuji tsubo which had its original
box. The chawan was easy to identify despite the lack of box as was the tsubo
though as you can see from the photo Khan was very pleased that it had its
original tomobako and immediately made himself home in it never missing an opportunity to
inject himself in to the conversation. This is a rather common practice for
Khan though few boxes end up large enough to swallow him whole though undaunted there are times when he is trying his best to settle down for a short
nap in a chawan box. I am not sure if you can see from the photo butone side of the box had become unglued so
before he left I drilled the corner, reglued the edges and put in two new wood
pins to stabilize the box. It was an unexpected pleasure to handle the pots,
especially the tsubo (more photos at a later date) but I suspect the real
pleasure was all Khan's. "In ancient times cats were worshipped as
gods, they have not forgotten this." Terry Pratchett
The
maker of this diminutive little cha-tsubo is Kutani-yaki legend, Hasegawa Sojin
of Kanazawa perhaps best known for his wispy aspara-like fairies and various
naturalistic designs created in a painting technique that he calls Yosai. This
particular piece is housed in a box that reads; KUTANI CHA-TSUBO and is more
akin to a chaire than it is what one thinks of as a traditional cha-tsubo,
tea-leaf container. Thrown out of porclain with a matching lid, the piece is
first fired with a clear glaze and then it is painted with overglaze enamels in
his particular style and in this case of the wispy, lively aspara style figures
floating freely about the base of the piece. Considering the normal atmosphere
and formality of enamel painting, there is a casual feel to this piece which
makes it very inviting and thoroughly functional whether it is used for matcha
or sea salt, it has a place in almost any household. I hope this short
slideshow video conveys the sense of playfulness that I had while handling this
pot and gives a glint into Hasegawa Sojin's unique Yosai style.
I
was moving a bunch of magazines around, making space on some storage shelves
when I came across a group of old Ceramic Monthly magazines from the late
1960s. Since I am easily distracted, the next thing I know I am thumbing
through a few issues when I came across a single page of various crackle glaze
formulas ranging from cone 06 all the way to cone10 and after looking at the
actual formulas, a few looked promising. I threw a few small test pieces and
made up two of the recipes, one of which is illustrated and as you can see,
right out of the gate it works. Considering there were no photos I was not
exactly sure what to expect but based on the description it sounded a bit like
a Japanese style kannyu crackle of which I think it certainly shows promise. As
you can see from the photo, the glaze displays a nice uniform crackle and where
it is a bit thicker up around the mouth, the crackle is much more dynamic
indicating a thicker application is called for next time around. I should also
mention that I rubbed a good deal of the glaze off the lip in an effort to
highlight the clay which worked out pretty well. I am constantly
amazed that when working with a number of older CM formulas, books from the 60s
and 70s and formula handouts from potters like Warren MacKenzie, Val Cushing
and David Shaner that the glazes almost always work, spot on without any fuss,
muss or adjustments. I can't help but say how indebted all modern potters are
to the generations that came before us in what must be considered a modern
ceramics traditions of our own in the US.
I
have had this conversation a number of times over the years, does a potter's
location dictate what his pottery is or is labeled? I think of two potters
neither of whom works in Shigaraki though there pottery is clearly Shigaraki-yaki;
Tsuji seimei and Kon Chiharu. As you can guess there are a number of potters
who make distinctively identifiable work though it is made somewhere outside of
where the pottery is normally associated. Such is half the case in regards to
this sweet little tokkuri as the box is labelled; ECHIZEN SHIGARAKI TOKKURI and
was made and fired in Echizen using not Echizen clay but what appears to be a
blend of Iga and Shigaraki clays with just the right amount of feldspar
inclusions to light up the pot like a star filled evening. The tokkuri is
somewhat light weight with a wonderful surface painted in various hues of ash
and effects that are as pleasant to feel as they are to just look at all
clearly created in a fierce, even ferocious process of the firing. Made
by a Karatsu and Echizen specialist, Miyoshi Kentaro (1953-2018), he first
studied and worked in Karatsu before falling under the primal and alluring
spell of Echizen-yaki. Miyoshi moved and worked in Echizen creating pottery of
both distinct and seemingly polar opposites in terms of pottery, but clay is
clay as is firing and he navigated the two tradition for the rest of his life. I
should also note that Miyoshi's works were included in the Birmingham Museum of
Art's exhibition and catalogue entitled; ECHIZEN; EIGHT HUNDRED YEARS OF
JAPANESE STONEWARE (1995). It is clear in this Echizen-Shigaraki tokkuri that
Miyoshi Kentaro enjoyed combining styles and traditions in a cohesive and
ineligible manner and as you look at this little pot you can see, like a fine
blended whiskey, the various flavors that make up this memorable outcome of his
efforts.
Coming
out of the shadows or even a bit like a partial eclipse, this thick and crazed
feldspar vase reluctantly appears before the viewer presenting form and surface
that paints an evocative landscape. There is something so ethereal and
contemplative about the works of Yasuda Zenko that is unlike few others; these
pieces are like connective tissue from mind to pure emotion and even a sense of
totality. Filled with elegance and raw energy here that despite the deceptively
simplicity of works of this style and nature, time falls away like melting snow
and the complexities of life are narrated in three dimensions if you allow it to
happen. I find there is a tremendous sense of solitude and solemnity imbued
within the simple elements of clay and fire on display where a pot lives within
the view and grasp of the observer. I can't honestly say that I know the intent
and reason behind these drifting cloud pots by Yasuda but I can relate how they
communicate with me even though I suspect the dialogue is presumably just at its beginning.
This particular teabowl is the result of two
tests one of which was a trial by fire if you will. The bowl was faceted or
more correctly put, shaved using a splintered piece of wood that I pulled off
of a quarter of split firewood and then just gently sharpened. I used this
piece of wood to create quick and uneven facets around the bowl and it seems to
have made an interesting texture. Once bisque, I used the bowl to continue on
my path for Oribe (Kuro-Oribe) tests using spayed on manganese and iron over
the glazed surface. Since I don't have a compressor and spray gun, I used one of
those old fashioned atomizer style sprayers fueled by nothing but lung power
which gave me a certain degree of control I am not sure i would have had
otherwise. I set up a box, lined with newspaper and then covered my banding
wheel in a plastic bag and went about spraying two teabowls that were intended
as a test of the new glazing idea as well as how the faceting looked after it
was fired. Here is the result under normal light and in mostly direct sunlight,
both give their rendition of the story reminding me at times of Akutagawa's
RASHOMON and truthfully, I am rather pleased at the various interpretations
that differing lighting has on the surface.
Once
again I'll start out with the caveat that I have not handled this particular
chawan but I have handled several in Ki-Seto, Kohiki, Seto-Guro and Shino over
the years including a couple similar to this one. To get to the point, though I
have been incredibly lucky to handle two dozen pots by Arakawa Toyozo, for the
vast majority of people this Toyoba Seiya Ki-Seto chawan is as close as one
normally can get to handling the work of his master. If you really study this
chawan what is striking about the bowl is the similarities but not slavish
imitation of the form, using both clay and glaze that resemble that of Arakawa
it becomes very clear that though not by the master, both master and pupil have
based their pots on ideals and archetypes that have a great deal in common. Though there is nothing slight about the form, there is a distinct robustness
to Arakawa's chawan that few modern potters can capture and to be clear, I am
not talking about size or scale. It is very easy to see the corollaries between
Arakawa and Toyoba having been master and pupil, not to mention in-laws as well
but there are certain subtleties and nuances that set each apart from one
another. In the end, I believe very few have the creative capacity to make
chawan that would stand up as competition to Arakawa but Toyoba's works are a
very worthy successor to his master and I suspect many of the various
subtleties that one sees that distinguishes the one from the other are the
intentional voice of a pupil finding his own way out of the shadow of the
master a task at which I think he has succeeded quite well.
I received this large and rather colorful chawan by Ogawa Tetsuo about a week ago and it has been hanging around on the shelf as it was put up on Trocadero for a fellow collector. Ogawa Tetsuo is a dedicated potter who specializes in working with slips and Korean slipware of which this chawan is a classic example of his kohiki pottery. The chawan showcases a rather broad spectrum of colors and other visual textures including large gohonde fawn spots and colors running from off white to pink, blue-grey and muted charcoal all under a translucent and waxy ash glaze. I had originally photographed this chawan using a white background which you can see on my Trocadero marketplace but decided to try using a black background to help bring out some of the various colors and textures that make up the surface to which I think it gives a slightly different if not better read narrative of what the bowl looks like. At the end of the day it really is quite a feat that so much can be done with so little in the way of clay and a few materials to produce a chawan imbued with character and rich in subtleties that few other potters can portray in a simple slipped teabowl. You can see more of this chawan by going over to my Trocadero page; https://www.trocadero.com/stores/albedo3studio/items/1415069/LARGE-COLORFUL-KOHIKI-CHAWAN-BY-OGAWA-TETSUO
If
you read my blog it probably is clear that I am determined to continue to tweak
a glaze no matter how satisfied I was with it five minutes ago, on and on until
it really can not be adjusted any more, think altered to the point of failure.
For a couple of months now I have been playing with adding washes over may
latest version of Oribe which has produced a number of different effects as
both failures and successes. This small covered jar is the latest in a series
of test that has come from some recent experimentation and I really like the
droozy, weeping surface that is composed of metallic blacks and greys as well
as silver and varying blues. This was the first pot that I tried this on that
had smooth surfaces and little to no throwing marks and it still creates a
rather active and lively surface. I took this picture in the sunlight because
truthfully in normal or tungsten lighting the surface looks a bit dark and
almost olive-brown but with the help of the Sun it just perks right up. I have
also thrown a group of faceted teabowls that I will glaze up and fire next
round and show the surface under several different light sources. For now,
given the propensity for the surface to run, I am just thankful the glaze
stayed on the pot and isn't now permanently attached to the piece of shelf it
was fired on.
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