Leave it to the Japanese to come up with the most appropriate names for the months of the year. June is Minazuki, which literally means “the month of water.” This is the time of year when the rice paddy fields are filled with water, and also of relentless downpours because this is prime rainy season in Japan.

With tea classes cancelled until at least autumn, my desperation for Japanese sweets has reached new heights and so I embarked on making “Minazuki,” a delicious rice cake sweet named after the month.

Minazuki dessert on a glass plate by Sasaki Shoko. The triangle shape refers to the traditional thatched ice house where natural ice was stored. Summer sweets evoke a sense of coolness.

I first tasted Minazuki when visiting the Chado Research Center in Kyoto in 2015, where the museum entry fee included a bowl of matcha tea and a seasonal sweet. I’m terrible at remembering the times when I traveled to various places, but because I was served Minazuki, I know it was in June. I later also learned that people in Kyoto eat this triangular mochi dessert topped with red beans cooked in sugar often during the month of June.

A mochi topped with azuki red beans sounds relatively simple to make, but there is that stupid perfectionist in me that whispered, “but if you’re making Minazuki, the azuki can’t come from a can, it’s got to be those big Dainagon azuki.” In addition, the whisper continued: “Add some kudzu in the mochi to make it certainly Kyoto style (from my provincial Tokyoite perspective, kudzu is a very Kyoto ingredient).

With all these wild ambitions, I cooked over two days to make the sweet. Alas, the red beans didn’t turn out quite as I had hoped because their skins broke. Ideally, they are supposed to be intact and beautifully plump. I discovered that Azuki cooking is an art, like making the perfect Canelés de Bordeaux. Cutting this delicious sticky thing was a challenge by itself, but I persevered!

Minazuki on a petal edged dessert plate by Sasaki Shoko.

Minazuki is eaten especially in conjunction with the day of the summer passage cleansing ritual known as “Nagoshi no harae” on June 30th. The ritual is carried out with the hope of being disease-free and to ward off disaster and misfortune. And since such a wish can be made by making and eating a humble sweet, I virtually send you all Minazuki, to wish you good health for the rest of this difficult year.

New Wood-Fired Porcelain by Shumpei Yamaki for Your Summer Evenings

June 17, 2020Ceramics Food and Craft Shumpei Yamaki

New work by Shumpei Yamaki in our shop->

I will never forget the first time I went berry picking with my host family in British Columbia in the summer as a high school exchange student. Back then in the late 1980s, I was only familiar with strawberries, which to me was a winter fruit as they are grown in greenhouses in Japan. But that Canadian summer, there were so many different kinds of berries to pick and eat. There was plenty of time for these berry escapades as daylight stretched way past 9 o’clock in the evening. I remember that I was very happy then, and ever since, berries lift my spirits up.

Homemade blueberry ice cream in wood-fired porcelain sake cups by Shumpei Yamaki. Wood-fired porcelain has subtle and beautiful colors of gray, light green and peach.

As the weather warms and my favorite summer fruits and vegetables start appearing on the dining table, my eyes seek refuge from the heat in the cool of porcelain ceramics, woven bamboo, and hues of blue, green, and purple.

In hot weather, my eyes seek refuge in cool colored tableware

Tea master Sen no Rikyu’s Seven Precepts, which is basically a code on organizing lovely and memorable gatherings, includes this piece of advice: “In the summer, provide a sense of coolness.” For example, in summer tea preparations, a water jar may be covered in freshly washed leaf with dews remaining on top, or a tea bowl may be brought in filled with water to convey a feeling of coolness. Even in our currently stress-filled pandemic world, I have found that taking the time to select utensils and set a seasonal table for my husband and myself provided a sense of calm and place.

Featuring water creates a sense of coolness on the table.

Shumpei Yamaki’s kiln after firing in Spring 2020. As with last time, Shumpei omitted the use of pyrometric cones and thermometer to create an environment for flow state
(Photo Courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki)

And because I love the combination of Shumpei Yamaki’s clean forms in white clay, gray, green, blue, and peach colors created by the fire and ash, I specifically asked him for some porcelain work this summer, in addition to his usual stoneware work. I’m delighted to share these glacial works by Shumpei with you, and hope that you’ll take the time to look at photos of them taken at different angles so that you can discover the subtle and amazing complexities that the wood-firing process can give to a porcelain’s surface.

Announcement of Closure of Entoten’s Physical Gallery

June 9, 2020Topics

I’m saddened today to inform you that the alignment of some dark and troubling stars in the Entoten universe during the Covid-19 Pandemic has caused serious financial stress and uncertainty in my business operations. In order to ensure the continuing survival of my online gallery, I have decided to close my physical gallery in San Diego.

This is a bittersweet decision, especially after having several successful shows and workshops that I felt I was on track to turning the gallery into a place that I envisioned: a place where people could meet beautiful crafts and to experience them being made and used. But with Covid-19, this is not the time for such in-person experiences and I will have to wait until when it is safe and people feel comfortable to do so.

When that future arrives, I will be doing pop-up shows and workshops in San Diego and beyond. In the meantime, my online store is operating as usual and I’m shipping orders in a speedy manner. I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all for your continued support and hope that you are all able to enjoy the arrival of summer.

New Work by Mike Martino: The Sun and the Moon Shine Eternally Inside a Jar

April 29, 2020Ceramics Karatsu Mike Martino

Ceramics by Mike Martino in our shop ->

As April comes to an end in San Diego, the parks and beaches have begun to gradually reopen. This marks the beginning of what will be a very long and uncertain journey to ending our physical distancing that began what seems a lifetime ago in mid-March. But the start of Phase One is an opportune reason to celebrate, and I’m delighted to be able to do this with new ceramic work by Mike Martino from Karatsu, Japan.

In this latest batch, I requested mostly pieces with brushwork that include lovely shrimps, which over the years have become Mike’s signature symbol. I find his lovely rhythmical brush strokes very comforting and meditative to follow with my eyes and I hope you do too.

Large Shino Bowl by Mike Martino with his signature shrimp drawings.

I would like in particular to introduce one of Mike’s pieces that seem to capture our current state of being quite nicely. It is a ekaratsu (painted karatsu) bowl that has the calligraphy letters “kochu nichi getsu nagashi (壺中日月長)” written on it. The literal translation of this Zen word is “the sun and the moon shine eternally inside a jar.”

This phrase was derived from an old Chinese anecdote of an elderly medicine vendor who always disappeared into a jar hanging in the front of his shop after the day’s work. Curious about where the old man was going every night, a local official befriended him and was able to get invited into the pot with him. Inside, the official found a vast palace with a large garden where the old man entertained the official with food and drink. After what seemed to be a whole day, the official returned to the real world to find out that decades had passed. The old medicine vender was an immortal ascetic.

Karatsu bowl with the calligraphy words “kochu nichigetsu nagashi” by Mike Martino

In Buddhist-speak, this may be interpreted as “the realm of enlightenment transcends time.” But I simply interpret this as “time is what you make of it” and unfortunately I fell out of making anything of it for a while during the seemingly unending lockdown. This was a sharp reminder that I was spending way too much time endlessly reading the dark news concerning the pandemic on my phone screen and feeling anxious. But I’m now finally crawling back into the jar.

Lastly, I’d like to add that a lot of time was squandered while I stared at Mike’s bowl trying to figure out which part of the calligraphy referred to the jar (壺), inside (中), sun (日), moon(月), and long (長), only to find that Mike wrote the whole Zen phrase in romanized Japanese. So now you can pronounce a sophisticated Zen saying in Japanese, and isn’t this a highly productive way of using your time?

Mike Martino is currently having an online sale of his work on his website in Japan 4/29-5/6/2020
(click here to visit his website).

The Master in the Redwoods: Pond Farm Pottery and the Legacy of Marguerite Wildenhain

March 20, 2020Ceramics Sonoma County Research

This past February, potter Bill Geisinger drove me to the rustic and eclectic town of Guerneville along the Russian river in Sonoma County in Northern California. During our car ride there, Bill related to me the logging history of Guerneville, the Bohemian Club, and its controversial grove retreat nearby, and soon, I found myself surrounded by the tall magnificent trees inside the Armstrong Redwoods State Natural Reserve.

The majestic Redwood trees of Armstrong Redwoods State Natural Reserve

As a transplant generation Xer, I had not heard of Pond Farm and Marguerite Wildenhain until Bill sent me a Wikipedia link about the farm prior to my visit. Upon reading it, I was excited to find out about this post-Second World War Californian colony for artists and to discover more about Marguerite, who was its resident artist and a Bauhaus-trained master potter.

Marguerite Wildenhain (1896-1985) was an American ceramic artist and educator. She was born in Lyon, France to a father of German descent and an English mother. Marguerite trained at the legendary Bauhaus school in Weimar, Germany from 1919 for 6 years under master potter Max Krehan and sculptor Gerhard Marcks. She emigrated to the U.S. to escape the Nazis with the help of American architect Gordon Herr and his wife Jane who wanted to establish an artist community in California.
(Click here to watch footage of Marguerite Wildenhain by Rollie Younger on YouTube)

Bill and I arrived early to stroll in the splendid redwood forest. As we walked, Bill said that he had wanted to bring me here because he thought Pond Farm would be a source of inspiration. He shared the story about his visit with Marguerite in the 1970s at the urging of his teacher James Lovera to learn how to make handles from her. Bill always surprises me with never-heard-of-before episodes like this in his life. After hearing Bill’s story, I complained that he rarely makes pots with handles these days, to which he laughed and agreed with my observation.

Entrance toThe Pond Farm Pottery in Guerneville, CA

Following our stroll, we visited Pond Farm with Michele Luna, the Executive Director of Stewards of the Coast and Redwoods, who kindly took the time to show us the compound. The Stewards are the managing member of a partnership for the preservation and revitalization of Pond Farm.

“The barn workshop was where Marguerite taught her two-month summer classes every year, and the rest of the year she worked and lived alone in that small cabin,” Michele explained, as she pointed to a house that was closed for viewing due to its dilapidated state. There was also a guesthouse on the compound that Marguerite had built for her teacher from her Bauhaus days, Gerhard Marcks, for his visit to the farm in the 1950s. The guesthouse was recently renovated and is used to host resident artists in the summer.

As I stepped into Marguerite’s barn pottery workshop, I immediately felt I was in a familiar place: a studio built upon the artist’s complete devotion to the craft. Inside the barn, I observed the design of the studio and contemplated the system that Marguerite had developed for teaching to countless students each summer from 1949 to 1980.

Pottery studio of Marguerite Wildenhain at Pond Farm

In the now empty workshop, models of the pottery forms that students learned from Marguerite were still in place. I wondered how closely the classroom was designed to the legendary Bauhaus school where Marguerite had trained under master potters for up to 9 hours each day, 6 days a week, year after year.

After returning from Northern California, I borrowed “The Invisible Core: A Potter’s Life and Thoughts,” written by Marguerite from my local library. She states in the book that many of the students that came to her summer school were college and high school teachers. She writes perceptively that at Pond Farm, “we take great pains in teaching the basic and fundamental elements that go into making a good piece of pottery […] More than that: We have a stimulating exchange of ideas and often really excellent and exciting discussions about art, integrity, human values, life, pots, what it all means, and how they are related, how all these have to fuse in you to one total concept and to form.”

The forms that students practiced in stages during summer class at Pond Farm. Marguerite conducted systematic learning in a traditional master-to-apprentice training environment

The Bauhaus-style kick wheel at Pond Farm

At Pond Farm, I only saw a small kiln inside the barn. So I asked Michele where all of the pots were fired because Marguerite accepted up to 25 students at a time for her summer workshops. Michele explained that none of the work by the students were fired. I was very surprised to hear this because I could not believe that the students were content just to learn how to make pots and not finish making them.

The kiln used by Marguerite Wildenhain at Pond Farm. None of the work by the students that attended summer school were fired.

But after reading Marguerite’s book, I realized that what she taught, and what the students came from all over the country to learn, was not just about how to make pots but also what Marguerite called “the essential requirements that all valuable work need.” These essential requirements consisted of “work, time, patience, effort, and intense devotion and faith in the validity of this purpose.” She called it the “discipline not to betray the requirements of art.”

I told Bill that I found Marguerite’s words compelling and insightful. He agreed and said that “her book was my bible in the 70s.” Over the years, I’ve met and studied many highly regarded artists, and while they all excelled at their craft, most could only teach a very small number of apprentices in their lifetime, if at all. And even with the best of these artists, master-to-apprentice training can be disorganized and mystifying.

The simple cabin where Marguerite Wildenhain resided. The inside cannot be viewed at this time because of its dilapidated state.

Marguerite’s achievements stand out because she was committed to teaching generations of aspiring artists the essential way of life as an artist, and honing of the necessary skills through relentless training like that of apprenticeships. Her teaching took place in a systematic and enlightening environment. If this method originated from the Bauhaus school, it only existed for a handful of years, but Marguerite kept Pond Farm going single-handedly for over 30 years, so her impact cannot be overstated. Her former students, called Pond Farmers, include the likes of Dean Schwarz of South Bear School, and Professor Dorothy Bearnson of University of Utah.

I hope that this blog post will inspire you to learn more about the work of this extraordinary but largely forgotten American master potter and teacher. Marguerite sums up her life’s work in a short statement in her book:

A Marguerite Wildenhain bowl made in the mid-1970s at Pond Farm, Guerneville, California. This stoneware with colored slip, glaze and sgraffito design was acquired by Barbara Brown and kept on display in her home until 2018. At that time Barbara asked Bill Geisinger to take custody of the bowl until it can be displayed to the public at a museum. Barbara is a potter and the international ambassador for the Association of Clay and Glass Artists of California

“My life as a potter has taught me to know the short-lived values of mode and fashion trends, of prizes and “success.” As fleeting as clouds are publicity, fame and limelight, but the good pot will endure through the centuries because of its integrity, its sound and pure purpose, its original beauty, and especially because it is the indivisible, incorruptible, and complete expression of a human being.”

I am not a potter, but wished that I could have met Marguerite to ask about her thoughts on fostering an enduring culture of crafts. In this uncertain time of social distancing with the coronavirus crisis, I found her words comforting and reassuring about my work at Entoten.

Finally, if you can, please help preserve Pond Farm, an important historic site of California’s Armstrong Redwood State Natural Reserve, by visiting the redwood forest, becoming a member, and/or donating to the Stewards of the Coast and Redwoods.

Browse more images of pots made by Marguerite Wildenhain in the Forrest L. Merrill collection

Forrest L. Merrill Collection Website: A History of Pond Farm in Pictures

Building a Japanese Glassware Tradition: Blown Glass by Floresta Fabrica

February 17, 2020Floresta Fabrica Glass Shizuoka

Blown glasswork by Floresta Fabrica in our shop ->

When people think of crafts from Japan, glassware is probably not the first thing that comes to mind. But even though the craft has a relatively short history in Japan, I personally think Japan boasts many glass makers who create exceptional work, both sculpturally and functionally.

Blown glass pitchers by Suzuki Ai: The spouts are perfectly executed so they do not drip. The downward spout make these lovely pitchers resemble little birds

Glass tea caddy by Suzuki Tsutomu. The stunning blue-green color is added by films of silver and copper on the outside. Tsutomu carried out countless experiments to achieve this effect.

An emerging example of this Japanese glasswork excellence is Floresta Fabrica, a studio of husband and wife glass blowing duo of Suzuki Tsutomu and Ai, based in Mori town of Hamamatsu city in Shizuoka Prefecture. ‘Floresta Fabrica’ is Portuguese for ‘forest factory,’ because Tsutomu and Ai wanted to honor the Portuguese who brought glass blowing techniques to Japan in the 18th century. ‘Forest’ refers to their hometown of ‘Mori’, which means ‘forest’ in Japanese. They established their gallery and residence inside an old Japanese house in 2016.

Suzuki Tsutomu and Ai’s residence and gallery in Mori town

The view from the gallery of Floresta Fabrica

Tsutomu and Ai’s hand-formed glass vessels have very pleasing and slightly nostalgic forms and textures. “We thoroughly study the forms so that they are pleasing to look at and are comfortable to use” Ai explained. “We try to have the perspective of the user when we design the vessels.”

Glass goblet by Suzuki Ai has a lovely form and slightly nostalgic appeal

They are particular about forming each piece by only using hand tools because they believe that is the best way to convey the beauty of mouth-blown glass. For textured pieces, the mold is only used in the beginning to add the texture but shaping is done with hand tools. Ai said that mastering the use of tools is the most difficult process of glass blowing, and that she sometimes just wants to use her hands, but laughed that “would not end well.”

Some of the hand tools used by Suzuki Tsutomu and Ai

Suzuki Tsutomu creating the foot of a sake cup

The batch, which refers to the raw material for the glass, is also very carefully selected for the transparency of the glasses. “We use batches from Sweden because they are very transparent, and we melt the materials carefully so that very few impurities get mixed up.” Any impurities will affect the clarity of the glass.

A pelletized batch from Sweden used by Floresta Fabrica. The material is lead-free and melted to create clear glass.

Ai studied glass blowing at the Osaka University of Arts. She was among the first generation of students that studied in the newly established department. “It was a very good environment because they had the newest and top of the line equipment,” she recalls. Tsutomu was born into a family of ceramicists in Mori, which is well-known for its Moriyama ware. He learned glass-blowing at the Tokyo Glass-Art Institute, and worked several years in Tokyo. The couple decided to settle in Mori after they got married because they believed it was the ideal location for their studio.

Tsutomu and Ai recently became parents to a baby boy and are very happy to be able to raise him in the beautiful natural environment surrounding their house. “This location works well because people come to town to see the ceramics and they also stop by to see our glass work,” Tsutomu said. They dream that Mori will be known one day for both ceramics and glasswork.

The beautiful natural environment of Mori town

And history is on their side. Moriyama ware has a history of about 100 years, a relatively short timespan for ceramics in Japan. Moriyama was started by Nakamura Hidekichi, a local man who was so impressed by the story of Seto’s potter Kato Kagemasa that he invited a Shitoro-ware potter to establish a kiln in Mori. These days Mori is a well-established pottery town that is home to four families of potters.

Every Bowl Like Your First: The First Kettle of 2020 in San Diego

January 12, 2020Topics Tea

Happy New Year! Thank you for your support of Entoten in 2019 through visiting my website, offering comments, interacting through the blog and SNS, and purchasing work at my gallery and online shop. I would like to ask for your continued support in 2020, so that I can keep on sharing the work and stories of the people who have dedicated their lives to carry on the tradition of handmade craft for use.

For this first blog post of 2020, I would like to share the story of my first tea demonstration that was mortifying and uplifting at the same time.

Table decoration for the Hatsugama with bamboo, camellia, pine, and nandina berries.

My new year began by taking part in the Hatsugama, which literally means the first kettle, for San Diego Urasenke Tea School’s annual tea event. This year’s preparation for the event was a little more stressful than usual because I was instructed to prepare tea in front of about 120 guests.

I was required to follow the procedure called Misonodana, a way of serving tea using tables and chairs. This style of tea preparation is called ryurei, and was first introduced to the world by Gengensai, the 11^th head of Urasenke for the 1872 International Exposition in Kyoto so that Western visitors could be served tea while comfortably sitting in chairs in a non-traditional Japanese setting.

Misonodana and scooping the hot water with a shaking hishaku

In most matcha preparations, the water is scooped and poured with a bamboo ladle called hishaku, which is one of the most difficult utensils ever invented to master the use in chanoyu. It is very easy to spill, drip, or dribble water while using the hishaku. But when the utensil is used masterfully, it is beautiful to watch and the sound of the water poured from a hishaku is one of the highlights of the tea preparation.

The other issue with the hishaku that I discovered when preparing this year’s tea is that when I’m nervous, it is very difficult to stop it from shaking. The more I tried to stop, the more my hands trembled. It was devastating.

The hishaku, one of the most difficult utensils ever invented to master the use in *chanoyu*

After I finished my demonstration I told my sensei that because I was so nervous, I could not stop the hishaku from shaking and it was very difficult to prepare the tea. Her response was unexpected. She laughed and said, “that’s perfect. That’s the attitude you should always have when you prepare a bowl of tea. Prepare every bowl, like you did today.”

I wanted to prepare tea smoothly and elegantly because, after learning chanoyu for 6 years, I naively believed that I should have been able to carry out the procedure without any problem. But after hearing what sensei said, I realized that my desire missed the point of tea completely. I also felt a little better that I was able to make a good bowl of tea for the guests.

I hope that 2020 will be a year full of eye-opening discoveries like this for you too.

Kagamimochi on Ontayaki Pedestal Plate

December 20, 2019Ceramics Onta Ontayaki

Ontayaki in our shop ->

The final addition to the Entoten gallery in 2019 is Ontayaki, which is produced in the small village of Onta, in northern Oita prefecture, by 10 families that are the descendants of its founders dating back to 1705.

For this batch of work, I asked a good friend that I have known for over 30 years who is an expert on Japanese craft to curate the work. I was very excited because I had never seen an Ontayaki pedestal plate until he chose to include it in this collection.

Pedestal plates are not often made in Onta because these vessels warp easily with the application of slip. But they are perfect for serving food for the new year, so I decided to make my own kagamimochi, a traditional Japanese New Year’s decoration made of rice cakes, to present on this special plate. You can find out more about the process in story highlights on Instagram.

Thank you for visiting my website and supporting Entoten for this past year! My best wishes for a happy and healthy New Year to you all.

Kagamimochi New Year decoration on Ontayaki pedestal plate.

Horihata Ran: Kutaniyaki to the Dining Tables Around the World

December 12, 2019Ceramics Horihata Ran

Kutaniyaki by Horihata Ran in our shop ->

Horihata Ran is an up and coming Japanese Kutaniyaki (Kutani ware) potter who is worldly-wise and talented beyond her years.

Born in Kanazawa surrounded by the rich ceramics culture of Kutaniyaki, Ran’s beginning as a potter was earlier than most of her contemporaries. She attended a vocational high school where she started learning pottery and went on to study at the Ishikawa Prefectural Institute for Kutani Pottery for three years. At 25, she already boasts 8 years of experience in working with clay. For the last three years, Ran has been working as a production potter at Kutani Seiyo Kiln, a studio comprised of multiple potters in Nomi City in Ishikawa where she is based.

Large peony Kutani sometsuke bowl by Horihata Ran

Ran initially wanted to make sculptures and art objects out of clay. “I thought it would be great to express myself in sculptures in the beginning,” she said. “Then after about four years, I started thinking that I wanted to create something that wasn’t just about me. I became interested in tableware because I was interested in a lot more than just myself. I’m curious about the people who cook food and use my ware, and also about the people who eat from them. Tableware is about relationships and I’m very interested in that.”

Kutaniyaki iroe tableware by Horihata Ran

Kutaniyaki is colorful painted porcelain ware of underglaze cobalt and overglaze enamel that is made in Ishikawa prefecture. Kutaniyaki’s roots go back 350 years to the very prestigious Ko-Kutani (old Kutani), which are of strong colors and luxurious designs, often seen in museums around the world. There is evidence suggesting that Ko-Kutani may have been made in Arita, in Saga, but Kutaniyaki refers to the painted porcelain ware of Ishikawa where a large kaolin deposit was discovered in the Nomi region around 200 years ago.

Since I visited Ishikawa to follow in the footsteps of the famous Rosanjin in 2014, I have been wanting to bring Kutaniyaki to the US. I think this overlooked region deserves much more attention in the ceramic world because there are some exciting potters coming out of here, due in part to the Ishikawa Prefectural Institute for Kutani Pottery that was established in 1984 to promote Kutaniyaki. Ran is a prime example of the new talent coming out of this investment.

Horihata Ran at Kutani Seiyo Kiln in Nomi City, Ishikawa
Photo courtesy of Horihata Ran

I came across Ran’s beautiful work at a major department store in Tokyo this past spring. Her work immediately caught my attention because it was fresh and bold, unlike many painted Kutaniyaki porcelain that I had seen. Most Kutani is too busy or too traditional looking for my taste but Ran’s brushwork carried a sense of deliverance from convention, and I was curious to find out why.

Kutaniyaki potter Horihata Ran applying overglaze enamel on porcelain.
Photo courtesy of Horihata Ran

“I restrain myself from drawing too much because I love drawing and I get carried away easily,” Ran chuckled as she explained her style. “I think that drawing with restraint balances well with food.” She also added that some heavily drawn-in pots work well with food, but they are much more difficult to design and perfect.

Wild chrysanthemum rice bowl by Horihata Ran. Ran restrains herself from drawing too much on the pottery so that the food is enhanced in the vessel.

I was very impressed to find out that she had spent 4 months in Denmark’s Krogerup Folk High School’s ceramics program after graduating from the Ishikawa Prefectural Institute for Kutani Pottery. Young Japanese of Ran’s generation are very inward looking and happy just to stay at home, and few willingly leave Japan to travel the world. Ran said she worried that she did not speak enough English, but because the students at the Danish school were from all over the world she felt comfortable going there.

“When I went to Denmark, I was surprised that young people were not shy to express their opinions in front of older people,” she said. “And I learned that the Danes put serious effort into creating comfortable space and time for hygge. I thought that was wonderful. I fondly remember building a little movie theatre in the basement with other students so that we could watch DVDs in comfort.”

Danish Bornholm themed Kutani sometsuke shallow bowl by Horihata Ran. Ran thought it was wonderful that the Danes put a lot of effort into creating hygge, a mood of coziness and comfort.

At first, Ran felt that there were too many breaks during class in Denmark because she tends to get completely absorbed into her work and does not like interruptions. But she later learned the importance of taking breaks and to connect with other students. The softness and freedom in Ran’s work most likely stems from the experience of living with students from different backgrounds and seeing the outside world.

Ran is beginning to establish her own studio in Nomi, and Entoten is delighted to have received the first batch of work that Ran has made in her new workspace. By spring 2020, she is hoping to work independently full-time. “It’s like a dream that someone living in America will be holding my work in their hands and using them. I wish that someday Kutaniyaki will be known around the world as tableware that people use in their daily life, not as pots in museums” she said.

New Baskets by Takami Yasuhiro

December 10, 2019Baskets Takami Yasuhiro

New bamboo baskets by Takami Yasuhiro in our shop->

Double turtle shell weave vertical basket by Takami Yasuhiro. Turtle shell (kikko) weave is one of the most difficult weaves for a basket.

Did you know that you need a pair of very strong hands to weave a large heavy-duty bamboo basket? Until I visited master bamboo basket weaver Takami Yasuhiro last year, I didn’t know how tough each of his bamboo splints were. As the basket gets bigger and taller, it is almost impossible to even bend one of these splints with my amateur hands.

It is said that it takes at least three years of training just to learn to manually split bamboo into splints to make a basket. The first basket that Takami-san completed under the apprenticeship of Miyazaki Shutaro was thrown into the fireplace by his master because it was not good enough. Takami-san laughs that such a strict and harsh way of teaching is now out of style and younger people in Japan these days will not tolerate it. But he is very proud that he learned under his strict master and would not have chosen to learn any other way.

Takami Yasuhiro splitting bamboo splints.

Hands, nails and teeth are all vital tools for bamboo basket weaving. Each splint is split into even width and thickness and finally peeled into two layers so that they are more flexible and durable. And they are the building blocks of Takami-san’s heavy-duty and beautiful baskets.