Illustrated
is a pair of mostly square terra cotta teabowls that were thrown and altered
and then decorated with X and Os a few weeks back. This is the finished product
where as you can see, they are mostly square with the belly of each plane being
just slightly convex which adds to the volume of each bowl. Each side of the
bowl is dominated by a large X or O in black and white making for a simple but
bold design. There are several decorative devices that keep showing up in my
work, perhaps because they are primal and/ or elemental in nature like the X
& O, the rain pattern, spirals, the verses and the
"landscapeman", each has a place on various forms across temperature
ranges, choice of clay and surfaces.
As
for these particular bowls, I like altering the thrown form and using a design device
that I have some comfort with makes the process just go that much smoother. As
an obvious side note, there are times that I decide to just wing it, go with
the very first, or last thing that enters my mind and in 98.99% of the time I
feel like I have wasted the clay, chemicals, energy and time it took to make
the piece and process it along. This is not to say that trying new things and
testing isn't a good thing but rather best to test designs and decoration first
on paper and then on things that are much less labor intensive to make, think flat
square slabs.
During
my time in Japan working at Kohyama Yasuhisa's studio in the early 90s I
figured while I was there and had a day to spare (Kohyama was at a wedding)
that I would make a trek in to Kyoto, stopping at a number of galleries,
antique places and a few book stores. At one bookstore I found this book which
was published in 1991 and in it was a contemporary set by Kohyama Yasuhisa, a
kamo-tokkuri and guinomi and since I was leafing through the it the other day,
I took a quick snap and decided to post it.
This
is a classic example of one of Kohyama's highly animated and lively tokkuri
with a rich array of ash effects creating three distinct zones of color and
texture on the face of the pot accompanied by a simple guinomi with an inviting
posture and spirited form. One aspect of this photo captures the wonderful
shadowed area at the base of each piece, in many respects it almost appears
like the pots are hovering, detached from the surface they are resting on.
Despite the simplicity of these two pieces both tokkuri and guinomi show a well
defined use of the details making for a rather unique and conscious pot based
on years of experience, trial and error and a unique understanding of the
Shigaraki tradition, its materials and firing to created objects formed and even
sliced from the earth.
The
box that accompanies this chawan is simply marked, SHINO CHAWAN which in truth
is a faithful description that leaves out some of the details that one can
clearly see with just a simple glance. Thrown out of a fine clay this bowl has
that classic Shino sense to it, part Momoyama and part modern in its DNA but it
is also clearly recognizable as a chawan by Tsukigata Nahiko. Though I see
those influences, including a dash of Arakawa Toyozo in the shape, posture and
lip, I also clearly see that this is a near textbook "plain" Shino
chawan by Tsukigata.
Making wonderful use of the marriage of shape and surface this
chawan was carefully manipulated to create a more dramatic effect and just the
right amount of movement that brings a pot to life. I find this chawan pleasing
to the eye and hand with a soft, blushed color that in some respects reminds me
of a winter trying to hang on while the spring is in a hurry to take over. It
is hard not to enjoy the narratives that Tsukigata paints on the surface of his
pots substituting clay, glaze and fire for oils and canvas, either way, it
paints a rich portrait that brings more depth of meaning to such a simple
teabowl.
There
are a number of forms, surfaces and ideas that I revisit from time to time,
sometimes I am asked to revisit them and other times something triggers it. For
a number of years I made these lobed Persian blue and gold luster bowls for
various holiday sales and just recently I ran in to a photo of one and decided
to make a couple. The execution is simple enough, thrown out of terra cotta the
lip is both cut and then pulled to create the lobes and once done the bowls are
covered in a black slip and then the white is added. The bowls are then
bisqued, glazed and fired after which I apply the gold luster and fire them one
last time, far more effort than difficulty. As you may be able to see the
inside of the bowl is a deep, dark, rich surface where in the very bottom pools
a small spiral of Persian blue because of the thickness adding just enough to
add a simple touch to the interior. I only made a couple of these bowls and in
truth rarely make that many, the time investment is certainly more than most
pieces and the gold luster just keeps getting more and more expensive while the
bowl prices do not. I had the urge and made the bowls, now I'll just move
along.
I
am not sure when I took this photo but it has been hanging around long enough.
This classical, Chinese influenced and cool blue koro was made by Suzuki Sansei
and just seems to be warming up for either its intended function or just to be
admired. The wonderful, double refractive celadon pools in the channels of the
top and bottom of the koro body and breaks as if on cue on the shoulder
creating a wide array of points of interest that also act to animate and define
the form. In many respects there isn't a ton going on here in terms of form and
glazing but due to the special nature of the glaze, the piece just comes to
life and it is clear that any bell and whistles added to the pot would have been
for naught. Though I am a huge fan of Suzuki Sansei's more opaque seihakuji
glaze I am sure I can find my way to accepting this glaze and all that goes
along with it as well.
This
is certainly an older and not great photo of a rather nice Tamba box that I got
to take a look at quite a while back. This is my one and only photo of this
covered box form by Nishibata Tadashi though it is only about 70 miles away and
is in need of being revisited. Made in the late 1990s this box is of classic
form, decoration and styling of a number of pieces that he made that at varying
times evoke just smallest recollection of the paintings of some abstract
expressionists. The robust hexagonal form just exudes power and the wonderfully
puffed up top just conveys volume and a certain amount of dramatic tension that
both bold intension and subtle details turn the ordinary in to the exceptional.
I am also quite amazed at what would in description seem to imply a heavy form
is in point of fact, strong yet light in terms of its visual presence, no easy
feat to achieve. Though in many respects in stark contrast to much of Nishibata
Tadashi's traditional pottery this piece easily fits within his body of work
and his keen attention to the future of modern Tamba.
This
pair of dark Oribe ewers came out of a firing about two months ago and are a
result of perhaps too much spare time on my hands. Though I have made somewhat
larger versions of this basic form, I decided to throw the pieces parts and see
what this would look like and how it may perform on a smaller scale; it's not
exactly rocket science but I wanted to keep the proportions about the same as
the larger pieces. After the pieces were assembled, both from a single
cylinder, I applied and combed a thick slip around the forms to articulate it
somewhat. As for the glazing they were both glazed in an Oribe and then had a
layer of a black wash that I use added to the spouts, top of the pots and
around the base the alter the way the overall surface would fire.
Both survived
and didn't stick to the protective shelf pieces they were fired on (!) and once
cool I gave them both the pour test. In truth, I think I would give them a
solid B for their performance as due to the small aperture where the spout
meets the body of the ewer, the air exchange is a bit restricted leading to
some "glugging" to occur unless the pour was held just right and done
slowly. I would love to say they both got an A+ but they do function, fit well
in the hand and look okay in the process. What's next, maybe triangular of
square ewers, I guess it depends on the day and the music!
A
while back I had a number of intermittent opportunities to takes some photos
while still getting work done in the studio and around the yard and house. I
had this particular Tamba mizusashi on the shelves and as luck would have the
timing of both the sun and my spare moment produced one half of this photo
collage and in the interest of full disclosure, I am also showing a more
traditional picture to give a comprehensive idea of form and surface . As the
titles implies this is a rather classic mizusashi by one of the pioneers of the
modern Tamba tradition, Nishibata (or Nishihata if you prefer) Sueharu which is
as simple as it gets in form, lid and firing. despite the simple execution this
exemplary firing has produced a bold, animated and rather exciting surface focusing
on the vertical gravity of the running ash. The rich, medieval narrative
painted by fire in ash makes for a rather elemental, even primal pot, a pot
that caters to function but doesn't lack in the eye appeal either in either
light source. In some respects by studying this pot and surface it is
abundantly clear where Nishibata Tadashi and his son Daibi, now deceased , have
learned a lesson or two from Sueharu, like father, like son (and grandson).
I
first mentioned this chawan in a post back in November 2017 at which point I
thought I was close to getting a slideshow video of the chawan put together but
the file is still on the computer and I am not much closer to getting it done
after all it is only three years but who's counting. The original post was
about how well the teabowl was back and double boxed though to a certain degree
maybe it was over packed, check for yourself; https://albedo3studio.blogspot.com/2017/09/a.html
As for the chawan, it was made by Koyama
Naohiko, son of Koyama Kiyoko and though on the small side it packs quite a
visual punch. Obviously well fired and in a rather desirable spot in the kiln,
the velocity and ferocity (no not twins from P&TNPG) is written like a good
novel across the surface of the bowl with the ash frozen in motion and
culminating in a near flawless emerald gen-like drip on the reverse (see
detail). The chawan was fired on its side at an angle as indicated by the shell
scars which add volumes to the surface. I am hoping it doesn't take me another
few years to get a slideshow video made for this Koyama chawan as I think it is
worth seeing to get the fullest picture of the piece, maybe in a couple of
weeks.
I
had to throw a handful of terra cotta pieces last week so while I was at it,
why not make a few bowls to square up which was done quick and dirty. The basic
idea was that I will apply several surfaces of slip to them, bisque, decorate
them, bisque again and then clear glaze them for the finish. While I was in the
studio this morning, working on a few other things and getting ready to slip
them it occurred to me just how terrible the surfaces look at this point in the
making process and I certainly hope they look better once completed (!). The
lines are pretty crisp and all the other exterior marks will get covered over
and hidden with slip but this point of the process in terra cotta, stoneware
and porcelain always leaves me feeling a bit depressed. Now they are slipped
and I need to get them dry before I just give up on them and set them in the corner
somewhere and get on with the stuff I actually need to get made and finished.
.JPG)