Wood Firing in ‘Flow State’: New Ceramics by Shumpei Yamaki

Ceramics Shumpei Yamaki

New ceramics by Shumpei Yamaki in our shop ->

Shumpei Yamaki at Entoten Gallery, San Diego CA,
October 26, 2019, 12:00-5:00 pm

A few months ago, I was communicating with potter Shumpei Yamaki from Iowa about his forthcoming reception and show at Entoten’s Gallery in San Diego in late October. Amid our discussion, he cheerfully wrote: “Oh, by the way, I’m going to fire the kiln without using a thermometer or pyrometric cones this time!”

Unlike many potters that load similar sized items in groups inside the kiln, Shumpei Yamaki mixes the arrangement of vessels without consideration for size and shape.
Photo courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki

Thermometers and cones measure when the kiln reaches the desired temperature, and almost all potters use them to make sure that the firing is progressing as expected.

I did not say this to him, but my immediate response to Shumpei’s audacious decision was why not use the thermometer and cones as reassurance? Was it really necessary to not use them at all? Shumpei though has been firing with wood for the last decade, so there was little doubt that he knew what he was doing, so I kept quiet.

The inside of Shumpei’s fully loaded kiln. Most of the pots are not bisqued.
Photo courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki, September 2019

“I really want to be completely immersed in the firing and ‘be one’ with my kiln”, Shumpei answered when I called him after he had concluded the firing at the end of September. “It was amazing. I now know what it means to meet the ‘kiln god’!” Shumpei said excitedly about the experience.

Usually, between 60 and 70 percent of the pots get covered in ash deposits, glossiness and markings in a single firing, which are the desired effects of wood-fired pots. But this time, almost every piece had these effects. It was the most successful firing that Shumpei had in his entire potting career.

Shumpei Yamaki fires his kiln for 4 days + 4 hrs. The kiln is fired twice a year.
Photo courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki

Shumpei is convinced that this success was due to not using the thermometer and cones. “I knew I was doing everything right, but when I was using the thermometer and the cones, it was difficult to focus. And when I am distracted, I do unnecessary things like opening the kiln door more often to check the surfaces of the pots or stoking for fear that the temperature is falling. It was like I wasn’t really trusting my kiln,” he mused.

The inside of Shumpei’s wood-firing kiln after firing. Photo courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki, September 2019

Shumpei further explained that “usually at the climax of the firing, when the kiln reaches 2,300 degrees or more, things are crazy because we have to constantly stoke. If we space out even for 5 minutes, the temperature will drop. But this time, it was like the kiln fired itself and I just assisted it. It was so peaceful, and when I added wood, I saw the blue flame that indicates that the kiln is very hot. Usually there is a lot of smoke, this time there was hardly any. It was like the kiln took everything that the wood had to offer. It was the most magical experience!”

Now let me briefly offer some scientific perspectives. “Flow-state” was defined by Psychologist Mihály Csíkszentmihályi in his 1990 book as the “optimal state of consciousness where we feel our best and perform our best.” There is a BBC article on the physical and psychological benefits of getting into this state. Shumpei said he wanted to reach this state of mind during the firing and achieved it.

The pots that came out of the firing in September 2019.
Photo courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki

After talking to Shumpei, I also realized that I had experienced something very similar while preparing tea in chanoyu (also known as the tea ceremony – but I personally prefer this word). As I prepared the tea, my body moved exactly how it should, and I could make a bowl of tea without thinking. It took several years of learning chanoyu to experience it, but I felt ecstatic afterwards. This is one of the reasons why I am now completely hooked to tea.

Which brings me back to the earlier question: was it necessary for Shumpei to eliminate the thermometer and cones? Yes, absolutely.

Keeping it Simple: New Woodwork by Maeda Mitsuru

Wood Maeda Mitsuru

Woodwork by Maeda Mitsuru will be available on June 22nd->

In today’s all consuming social media age, it feels that people would not pay attention to work that doesn’t look dramatic or eye catching. But often the features that make work stand out in appearance comes at the expense of compromising its function.

Simple and thoughtfully designed wood butter case by Maeda Mitsuru
Maeda Mitsuru’s butter case fits most refrigerator door compartments and carries two sticks of “Elgin-style” butter perfectly. The lid is domed so that it does not warp even in the dry climate of a fridge.

So every time I receive work from Japanese woodworker Maeda Mitsuru, I am reminded about his extraordinary ability to stick to making simple and useful wood items.

It is also clear that Maeda-san spends a significant amount of time considering what might improve the user’s experience.

Coffee measuring scoop by Maeda Mitsuru has a short handle that fits inside the palm for easy scooping
Tray made from Japanese walnut by Maeda Mitsuru. The carving on the surface is not just beautiful, but also prevents the items from slipping during transportation.
Japanese oak kitchen stool by Maeda Mitsuru designed to take up minimal space in the kitchen while providing a little resting space for the busy cook

This fall will mark the 14th year since Maeda-san established his studio called Ki-to-te (which means “wood and hand”) in Tokyo, and I feel that his focus is only getting stronger. If you have a day to spare in Tokyo, I encourage you to visit his gallery, which is open most weekends, to see more of his simple and but exquisitely elegant furniture and to meet him, his wife Yumi, and their adorable Shiba dog Moku.

Ki-to-te gallery in Kunitachi, Tokyo and Maeda-san’s Shiba dog Moku

 

 

“No Bad Clay”: Karatsu Pottery by Mike Martino

Mike Martino

Karatsu pots by Mike Martino in our shop ->

Karatsu potter Mike Martino has always been good with his hands. He believes that this natural talent combined with his exposure at a young age to early native American ceramics helped to set him onto a path of becoming a potter.

Mike grew up in New Mexico, where he frequently visited a native North American pueblo settlement adjacent to his town dating back to the 17th Century. “I remember going out with my parents hiking and coming home with pot shards, and walking home from school, stopping under a bridge to play with friends, and finding arrow heads,” he reminisces.

American potter Mike Martino working at his Gotanbayashi wood-firing kiln that he built in 2010
Photo courtesy of Mike Martino

Mike has been living in Japan for almost 25 years now after meeting his Japanese wife when they both studied at Kyushu University. He has been making functional pottery in the city of Taku, Saga Prefecture, for the past 15 years.

Mike creates work following the Karatsu pottery tradition produced in and around Karatsu that has a history of over 400 years. Historically, Karatsu Port was one of the most important ancient ports for trading with China and Korea. And Karatsu pottery has been directly influenced by Korea because many Korean potters settled in Karatsu after being taken captive following two attempted invasions of Korea by General Toyotomi Hideyoshi between 1592 and 1598.

Mini e-karatsu rice bowl by Mike Martino.
So versatile yet humble, they are perfect for rice, tea, and even small salads as a side dish.

Karatsu pots are earthy, high-fire glazed stoneware boasting numerous styles such as picture Karatsu (e-karatsu), Korean style Karatsu (chosen karatsu), black Karatsu (kuro garatsu) mottled Karatsu (madara karatsu), and stamped inlay Karatsu (mishima karatsu), to name just a few. There are many more variants, and Mike avidly studies their history through old Karatsu pots and shards.

The most basic goal for Mike is to create something beautiful and useful. At first glance, his pots seem like traditional Karatsu ware, but upon closer inspection they carry distinct and sometimes playful flair that uniquely incorporates his American roots. I love that he experiments with traditional forms with a twist, like creating small rice bowls that are half way between a sake cup and a tea bowl. And his large and small pedestal cups (bajohai) with iron drawings are so unique and fun to use on the dining table.

Mike Martino’s stemmed cups. His work is highly functional and fun to use.

As an American, Mike is also not afraid to defy convention. He uses cheaper Douglas fir to fire his kiln while most Japanese potters only use red pine, which is very expensive. This is despite plenty of warnings from fellow potters that Douglas fir would ruin his work. Mike later found out the reason for these dire warnings. When Douglas fir were first shipped from North America to Japan decades ago, the trees spent a lot of time floating in the ocean and were sometimes even dragged behind ships on their oceanic passage. It was the salt contamination that gave the Douglas fir a bad reputation.

Mike Martino firing his wood-fired kiln with Douglas fir. He is helped by his mentor Tsuruta Yoshihisa
Photo courtesy of Mike Martino

When Mike creates his work, he pays most attention to using the material in a way that brings out the beauty of their unique characteristics. His view is that there is no such thing as ‘bad clay,’ just the limitations of the artist’s imagination and ability in its use. If you follow Mike’s blog, you will notice that in 90% of the posts, he talks about the clay, such as their body, texture, color, and behavior. He is a clay geek who is deeply and passionately devoted to its study and application.

The foot of a Karatsu tea bowl by Mike Martino. Mike creates the most beautiful wrinkles on the foot of his work as he trims. This is one of the most revered characteristic of Karatsu clay called chirimen jiwa.  Mike calls this the ‘cookie dough’ effect.
Chirimen jiwa on the foot of an Izumiyama porcelain sake cup by Mike Martino. Porcelain cups are not usually known for this type of trim on the foot, but Mike loves this effect and when he discovered that Izumiyama porcelain can be trimmed like this, he was enticed to work with porcelain.

Mike’s curiosity of the history of Karatsu ceramics is also due in part to the influence of his mentor and teacher Tsuruta Yoshihisa, a well-known maker of ceramics for tea ceremonies and a leading expert of Japanese ceramics. The town of Taku where Mike resides is where Yi Sam-Pyeong (Ri Sampei in Japanese), the presumed father of Arita porcelain who came from Korea in the late 16th century, is believed to have first settled to establish a kiln. Yi later moved to Arita in 1616 after the discovery of Izumiyama porcelain. “Nowadays people think Arita and Karatsu are completely separate traditions because they are such different styles of pottery, but they are all related,” according to Mike.

Sharing tea with Mike at his studio in Taku using his pots. Mike loves the ability of Karatsu ware to change and become more beautiful with use.

Not so long ago, the Japanese word “Karatsu” was used synonymously with “pottery” because so much stoneware was made and shipped from Karatsu Port. But the Japanese ceramics market has been in a slump for many years, and only recently has there been a surge of renewed interest in handcrafted tableware.

Mike says he has noticed many more young customers in the last 3 to 4 years who are interested in and recognize the value of quality handmade work. He says he hopes to continue to play a part in spreading the “Karatsu” name as a pottery destination not only for the Japanese public but also for foreigners through his work. When I asked him about this goal, he smiled and replied that “all the potters in the U.S. know Mashiko but not Karatsu, and I want to put Karatsu on the map.”

Kintsugi: An Ancient Japanese Repairing Technique Using Urushi Lacquer

Ayumi Horie Kintsugi Shumpei Yamaki

Kintsugi repaired pots in our shop->

Kintsugi is a Japanese method to repair tableware that has its roots in traditional urushi lacquerware making technique. In recent years, I have seen many images of ceramics with golden cracks labeled ‘kintsugi’  on the Internet, but unfortunately many are not real kintsugi.

I appreciate that the Japanese term is getting known in the US and internationally. It allows for people to be more curious about Japanese craft and aesthetics in general, and that is a good thing.  But I also want to clarify that a significant amount of time and expensive materials are needed to master the true kintsugi technique. So for the sake of the skilled craftsmen that practice it, I feel that pots with painted gold color lines, or broken pots repaired with epoxy and gold mica powder should not be labeled as “kintsugi.” 

Kintsugi repaired salt cellar made in collaboration with potter Ayumi Horie and woodworker Blackcreek Mercantile & Trading Co. It took months to organize the collaboration in 2014, because each wooden lid had to be custom-turned to fit each pot.
Small broken pieces of pottery were saved and used in repairing the container. The kintsugi repair was carried out by a 4th generation Yamanaka lacquerware craftsman in Kaga, Ishikawa prefecture. This gold finish is unpolished.
The pot before Kintsugi repair. I was devastated when I broke it while trying to photograph it

In true Kintsugi, the adhesive sap extracted from a lacquer tree (urushi) is used to piece the broken pieces together. In its wet state, this sap can cause severe allergies when touched.

When I was in primary school, I was taught to avoid the low trees with compound leaves on red branches that maybe urushi. And even then, I fell victim to the urushi allergy several times playing in the woods. The acute itchiness that often struck while sleeping was the worst torture that you can experience. This is a risk that every kintsugi craftsman faces while handling their material.

A piece of Urushi trunk and the tools used to collect its sap.

Urushi is also a very peculiar material that dries by absorbing moisture. Many layers must be applied, with each layer requiring time for hardening in a damp environment. Once urushi hardens, it is extremely durable, and can withstand the likes of acids, alcohol, and hot and cold water.

The gold is applied by sprinkling powder gold on top of a layer of urushi while still wet. This lacquerware technique is called makie, an ancient method to decorate the surface with beautiful gold designs that became very popular during the Edo (1603-1868)  period. The earliest example of the makie technique can be seen on the sheath of a Chinese style sword from the 7th to 8th Centuries in the Shosoin collection. Shosoin is a treasure house that belongs to the Todai-ji temple in Nara.

Kintsugi is not about putting the broken pieces together with gold for appearance. It is about repairing something that is irreplaceable with urushi lacquer, a uniquely durable natural material that has been time-tested over many centuries. The layer of gold is to cover its dark appearance, and because gold is a non-reactive metal, the vessel may be used for eating and drinking. Other less-reactive metals like silver can also be used.

Gintsugi, or gin-naoshi repair on the lip of a wood-fired tea bowl by Shumpei Yamaki
The tea bowl had a very beautiful and rare green ash effect with contrasting dark surfaces from the effect of ember. A part of the lip broke when the bowl was removed from the kiln where the ash dripped.

Considering the cost and the time required to repair the vessels, it is obvious that most broken pots are not worth repairing with kintsugi. But I think it’s a unique and appropriate way to repair a special piece of broken pottery that is irreplaceable or of immense sentimental value that you wish to keep and use for many years.

Visiting Vietnam: Traveling in the Land of my Pottery Crush

Vietnam

My infatuation with Vietnamese pottery began with an unassuming plate that I saw at the National Museum in Tokyo. It was a white-slipped plate with a flower painted in the center coated with a milky glaze. The loosely drawn flower was joyful and full of life, and I was completely captivated by its charm. When I discovered that the plate was made in Vietnam sometime during the Ly and Tran Dynasty of the 13th and 14th centuries, I began to dream about visiting that haunting country someday.

Dish in Tokyo’s National Museum with flowering plant design in underglaze iron, from 13th-14th Century Vietnam. 
鉄絵草花紋皿　東京国立博物館にて撮影

The opportunity to turn this dream into reality came suddenly this past mid-January when a Vietnamese-American friend invited me to visit Vietnam together. I quickly agreed. But I soon discovered that there was very little information on where to go and see ceramics in Vietnam.

Two vague tips that I received was the Bat Trang (Bát Tràng) pottery village located southeast of Hanoi on the banks of the Red River, and the National Museum of Vietnamese History in Hanoi (Hà Nội), which was said to have a good collection of historic Vietnamese wares. With these clues, I hopped onto a plane for the 20 hour plus journey to Hanoi.

Bat Trang Pottery Village near Hanoi

Bat Trang pottery village is about 45 minutes on Bus No. 47A from Hanoi’s Long Bien Bus Terminal. A taxi will get you there a lot faster, but I enjoyed the slow ride to absorb the lush scenery and Hanoi’s energy that is topped with traffic chaos. The bus took us to the center of the village.

Pottery shops in Bat Trang ceramic village near Hanoi

Bat Trang was exactly what I thought it would be. A village with ornamental large jars and lots of affordable tableware for everyday use, all in the contemporary styles that are preferred by Vietnamese people today. Most of the pots seem to have been made by slip casting.

Left: Bright colored bowls and cups. Right: A lady packing bright colored ceramic pigs probably for the Vietnamese lunar new year celebrations.
Very low hand wheels with matching tiny plastic seats at a shop where customers can experience making pots.
Multi-chambered climbing kiln in Bat Trang. The kiln did not appear to have been used recently.

Although the bright colors and shiny glazes were not exactly to my taste, it was still fascinating to see that the Vietnamese use so many different types of vessels that reflects the country’s rich food culture, like small dishes for sauces, small lidded jars and cooking pots for fish soups. There were popular soup bowls in various sizes with large curved rims that I have rarely seen elsewhere, so I bought a few to take home.

Little bowls with curved rims from Bat Trang, Vietnam.

National Museum of Vietnamese History in Hanoi

It was by pure chance, which I interpret as destiny, to arrive at the National Museum of Vietnamese History just as an extensive exhibit opened of 13th-18th century ceramics excavated from ancient shipwrecks off the Vietnamese coast. This show started on January 18th 2019 and runs until May 18th 2019. So if you are in the area, I urge you to visit it.

Left: National Museum Right: Shipwreck pottery

About 500 pieces of pottery were on display, many of which were my favorite Vietnamese blue-and-white ceramics from the 15th century. In the current Japanese handmade pottery scene, there are many makers who have been heavily influenced by this era of Vietnamese pottery. It was interesting to observe that the current ceramics taste in Vietnam is moving away from these traditional painted styles, while in Japan the “Annam-style”, is having its moment.

Vietnamese blue and white ceramic containers from the 15th Century

As a modern day importer of handmade ceramics, I get cold sweat thinking about a big chunk of my orders sinking in the ocean on its way to the US. But my creative imagination exploded with these remnants from the shipwrecks because they offered a unique window into the aesthetics and lives of Vietnamese people from the distant past. After witnessing the tastes and skills built into these pots, I could understand why they were coveted by people from so many surrounding countries, and such great efforts were made to trade them overseas.

Ho Chi Minh

I had no pointers of where to go in Ho Chi Minh (Hồ Chí Minh) City for pottery, so I took the advice of Professor Matsui, one of Japan’s leading experts on Mingei who told me to “study objects from the past to understand Mingei and the beauty of handmade items for use.” Which meant that I hit the streets to look at antique stores.

Vintage Song Be Ware of Ho Chi Minh

I had never heard of “Song Be (Sông Bé)” ware, but a friend who lives in Ho Chi Minh said it was local, everyday use pottery, that was influenced by the French, who had ruled Vietnam between the 19th and 20th Centuries. Indeed I see similarities to the French Strasbourg and Quimper ceramics, along with some Chinese influence, but overall it is distinctly Vietnamese in spontaneity.

Vintage Song Be ware at Kito Shop on Dong Khoi street in Ho Chi Minh

These pots made me think about the resilience of the Vietnamese people, and their long struggle of facing hordes of foreign invaders, which sadly included Japan during the Second World War. Some people said that Song Be kilns are still making pottery, while others told me they have stopped production. I hope to find out definitively what the current situation is soon.

More vintage Song Be ware at Kito shop in Ho Chi Minh

Shipwreck Pottery in Ho Chi Minh

In one of the shops on Antique Street that I visited in Ho Chi Minh, I found a mound of blue-and-white small jars and covered jars that looked very similar to the ones I saw at the museum in Hanoi.

A huge pile of jarlets at an antique shop in Ho Chi Minh. Many had little birds drawn on them.

The shopkeeper told me that fishermen had found these items in the ocean. I was very surprised that precious 15th century pots were so casually sold! From the pile, I chose a covered container that had a beautiful painting of a flower, drawn in distinctively relaxed Vietnamese strokes together with a few jarlets. I later found similar pots online, with mention of them being “Hoi An hoard”. I’m not sure what this means, but want to find out more about them.

More shipwreck pottery at an antique store in Ho Chi Minh.

 

After the Trip

In this one week trip to Vietnam, I felt like I did not even scratch the surface of grasping the mystery of Vietnamese ceramics traditions that I am so attracted to. But the visit reinforced my conviction that there is much more to discover and learn in Vietnam. Initially, I was very surprised at how little is published on Vietnamese pottery, despite its long and rich traditions. But as Yanagi Muneyoshi, founder of the Mingei movement once said, “In understanding beauty, intuition is more of the essence than intellectual perception. The reversal of these two faculties stultifies vision. To “see” is to go direct to the core; to know the facts about an object of beauty is to go around the periphery. Intellectual discrimination is less essential to an understanding of beauty than the power of intuition that precedes it.” So I am determined to visit Vietnam again, to see first, and maybe know afterwards.

Ceramics by Inoue Shigeru: The Intrinsic Power of Clay

Ceramics Inoue Shigeru Tokoname

Mishima Ceramics by Inoue Shigeru in our shop->

Several years ago, I came across an image of a plate that moved me. The plate had stamp marks and lines inlayed with white slip on a rich, dark clay background.

Mishima koyomite plate by Japanese potter Inoue Shigeru

The plate had a restrained and earthy beauty with powerful appeal. I initially thought that it must be old, but it was new and even more surprising was that the plate was made by Inoue Shigeru, who at the time was an office worker living near the city of Nagoya and was making pottery in his spare time.

Arugula and orange salad in a hori mishima plate by Inoue Shigeru

“People said to me, you are crazy,” said Inoue-san, a slight man with gentle manners as he showed me the clay making area in his apartment’s back yard on a visit this past November. “I wanted to make pots like the beautiful Korean Kohiki (Buncheong) wares, but only by using natural materials, and it was horribly difficult,” he laughed. Some professional potters told him such efforts were stupid because it made no significant difference to the results which he disagreed with.

Clay making by Inoue Shigeru

Most Kohiki potters adjust the slip with refined chemicals because a slight incompatibility with the underlying clay can cause the slip to peel off or crack. But Inoue-san was adamant about using natural feldspar, because he believed that pure chemicals, although they are much more stable, “wouldn’t give the same effect as natural slip.” He is also particular about using weathered feldspar that are naturally exposed to rain and sun and harvested in nearby Gifu prefecture.

Kohiki slip can crack or peel off when there is incompatibility with the clay

The red clay body that Inoue-san is infatuated with comes from a clay shop from the nearby pottery town of Tokoname. The shop owners tell him that “you and the brickmakers are the only people who wants this crude clay.”

Predictably, Inoue-san’s Kohiki work failed miserably in the beginning. “Sometimes my pots all collapsed. Then I got a little better and managed to slip the wares, but the slip peeled off or cracked in the firing.” Inoue-san shook his head as he recalled these tough testing years.

Inoue-san holding the collapsed plates with ash glazes that came out of the kiln. The clay he works with has low refractoriness. He jokes that it was a spectacular failure.

After many failures, Inoue-san decided to regroup and instead of completely coating the surface, he started brushing a thin layer of white slip onto the stamped or carved surface of the dark clay and scraping off the excess that made the slip adhere to the clay better. These slip decoration styles are called Mishima because, according to one theory, Japanese tea masters who prized the original 15th Century Korean Buncheong ware in this style thought the patterns resembled the famous Mishima calendars published in Izunokuni (Shizuoka prefecture today) from the Kamakura period (1192-1333).

Inoue-san’s pots shrink by about 20% in the firing, far more than processed clay. He thinks this is because processed clays are pulverized and are much more dense than the natural clay that he’s works with.

Inoue-san’s work slowly became more successful, and as he shared his progress on social media, his work started to receive plenty of support from followers. Inoue-san never thought at the time that he would be a full-time potter. But after several acclaimed receptions at gallery shows around Japan, he decided to quit his office job 2 years ago.

Inoue-san now is creating a truly original body of work unlike anything I have ever seen. No two pots are the same, but each one is a perfect background for serving food. You can see his enthusiastic fans serving up on his vessels through social media.

Matcha in a hakeme (brushed slip) bowl by Inoue Shigeru

On his decision to become a full-time potter, Inoue-san says that “I’m happy if I can earn enough to continue making more pottery. I’m the sort of person that can’t try very hard if it was just for myself, but I get motivated and energized when people tell me they enjoy using my pots.”

Before leaving his studio, I asked Inoue-san why he thinks people have reacted so positively and emotionally to his rather unobtrusive work. He said, “I guess it’s because my pots are born from clay that is usually overlooked and I put them through lots of challenges, like not giving them support by adding chemicals and by firing them in prolonged strong reduction (when oxygen is deprived in the process) for almost 12 hours in a gas kiln. I think clay is just like people. The ones that survive the tough circumstances eventually show their deepest strength and shine.”

Woodwork by Jarrod Dahl: “The New Wood Culture” of Connectedness

Wood Jarrod Dahl

Woodwork by Jarrod Dahl in our shop ->

Jarrod Dahl is dedicated to creating woodware for daily use and to share its beauty as widely as possible. The woodworker, writer, and teacher from Ashland, Wisconsin says that at the heart of his philosophy is the idea that “good design is tied to utilitarian function.”

Soup noodle spoon designed and made by Jarrod Dahl. His work has marks and textures left on the surface from his hook and knife.

Jarrod’s woodenware and utensils are beautifully designed and honest to use. It is clear from his work that he has admired and researched many forms of woodenware from all over the world. As Yanagi Muneyoshi, the Japanese founder of the Mingei movement also pointed out, “we do not admire work because of the past but because of its enduring present,” Jarrod thinks that good design is timeless.

Jarrod’s noodle spoons are perfect for soup noodles and chunky stews. It was inspired by older style Japanese soup spoon and also remind of old Welsh cawl spoons.

Unlike the contemporary Japanese woodenware that I’m familiar with, which is usually sanded smooth and is pristine, Jarrod’s work has marks and textures left on the surface of the wood from his hook and knife. I found these aspects to be very attractive because I felt that they provided a sense of connectedness to the natural world around us and to the hand of the maker, which is becoming more and more difficult to feel in our increasingly technologically driven lives.

Woodworker Jarrod Dahl turning a wooden mug on a pole lathe
Photo courtesy of Jarrod Dahl

I discovered Jarrod through a YouTube video of him turning a bowl on a pole lathe. A pole lathe is a primitive, foot-powered wood turning machine that uses the spring of a wooden pole to pull a cord that spins the wood being turned. Curious to find out more, I searched his name on the Internet, and found that he also teaches woodworking and spoon carving at Gifu Forest Academy in Japan. I was impressed about his earnestness in learning about woodworking in Japan, which I later found also applied to many other cultures.

Besides creating work, Jarrod spends a significant amount of time teaching woodworking. In 2019, Jarrod will return to Japan to teach, and he is currently fundraising for his trip. In the US, he regularly teaches at the North House Folk School and Port Townsend School of Woodworking. He is especially well known for his popular spoon carving workshops in which students can learn to make a spoon from a greenwood log by using only an axe, a saw, a hook knife, and a straight knife.

A few simple tools used for carving spoons
Photo courtesy of Jarrod Dahl

When I asked the reason for the popularity of the spoon carving workshops, Jarrod observed that it was because “people in our modern world don’t get to use their hands as much as they would like.” Spoon carving can be done even in a small apartment with a few tools, and he said that it “can provide a very rounded experience of creation within the bound of creating something utilitarian.” After teaching abroad many times, Jarrod thinks that people’s desire to make things is universal, and that spoon carving is uniquely rewarding and healing.

Jarrod Dahl carving a spoon at his studio in Ashland, Wisconsin.
Photo courtesy of Jarrod Dahl

In terms of selling woodenware in the US, Jarrod finds it to be quite challenging. As a Japanese growing up regularly using wooden bowls and chopsticks, I was also surprised at how little wood vessels or utensils are used on dining tables in the US, so I asked Jarrod why he thinks this is the case. His view is that because the US was born in the Industrial Revolution era, American people viewed woodenware as from the past that only poor people used. He added that people also came to America to escape that “idea of poverty from their old countries.”

An important part of “The New Wood Culture” is the idea of reconnecting to many aspects of our lives and circumstances through the use of wood

But Jarrod also thinks that nowadays this traditional image of woodenware is slowly changing. He thinks that people are starting to remember the beautiful experience of eating with wood, and the American woodenware world has great potential to become more appreciated. Jarrod calls this “The New Wood Culture,” and he is playing an active role in promoting this wood culture renaissance.

This takes me back to the connectedness that I feel from Jarrod’s work and its significance. I think an important part of “The New Wood Culture” is the idea of reconnecting to many aspects of our lives and circumstances through wood: to our past, future, people, hands, and our natural surroundings. Because when we feel connected, it makes us feel a little more whole, and it’s a wondrous feeling.

A Very Particular Focus: A Love Affair With Tokoname Kyusu by Yamada Yutaro

Tokoname Yamada Yutaro

Tokoname Kyusu by Yamada Yutaro in the Our Shop ->

On an unusually warm November day in Japan, I visited Yamada Yutaro, a young rising star of kyusu teapot makers in the old pottery town of Tokoname. When Yamada-san graduated from college, he did not appear destined to be a potter as he went to work for a construction company. But he always wanted to make kyusu, so he heeded the advice of a colleague who said that he should follow his ambition sooner rather than later.Yamada-san quit his job after just one year and returned to school to study ceramics.

Tokoname kyusu teapots by Yamada Yutaro

Yamada-san grew up in Tokoname, which is a ceramics town south of the sprawling city of Nagoya. Tokoname is one of the six oldest pottery towns in Japan and dates back to the 12th Century. The town flourished during a big construction boom in the Meiji era as it became a supplier of ceramic drainpipes.

A street in Tokoname lined with reused ceramic pipes and shochu bottles. Tokoname was once the largest producer and supplier of these ceramic items in Japan.

During the Showa era, Tokoname became widely known for its kyusu. When I was growing up, even in my humble house, we used kyusu from Tokoname to drink green tea because it was the brand to own!

Kyusu making in Tokoname is believed to have started during the Edo period when a local potter called Inaba Shozaemon started creating teapots by referencing drawings of old teapots he found in a book. The fame of Tokoname Kyusu grew further when a Chinese Yixing potter called Jin Shiheng was invited in 1858 to teach red clay (Shudei) kyusu-making techniques to local Tokoname potters by Koie Houju, a prominent Tokoname potter and businessman who made his fortune in the drainpipe business.

The studio of Yamada-san’s father stacked with ceramic planters. The Yamadas have been potters for three generations.

Many families in Tokoname have been potters for generations. In the case of Yamada-san, he follows his father and grandfather into this profession. But unlike most Tokoname pottery families, the Yamadas are very individualistic and each generation has pursued different interests.

Yamada-san’s grandfather made hibachi, while his father is focused on planters. Yamada-san himself is a kyusu maker. “I’m infatuated with kyusu, but my father says he has absolutely no interest in kyusu”, Yamada-san chuckles. But the son always keeps in mind what his father told him when he quit his office job to become a full-time potter, which was that it was not easy to make a living as a potter.

Kyusu maker Yamada Yutaro of Tokoname

Kyusu making is a very delicate and exacting process with each step requiring the utmost precision. The body, lid, tea strainer, handle, and spout are all created separately and subsequently put together meticulously. As kyusu making is so highly specialized, Yamada-san said that the general ceramics training taught in schools was not directly useful to him.

The strainers that will be attached to the inside of the spout. The holes are larger on the edge to allow for the last drop of tea to come out easily from the teapot.

So after his school training, Yamada-san honed his skills by getting hands-on experience from expert local teapot makers like Murakoshi Fugetsu, who learned from Yamada Jyozan III who was designated as an important intangible cultural property (also known as a living national treasure) of Tokoname Kyusu by the Japanese government in 1998. Yamada-san also visits Yamamoto Hiromi, who he refers to as the “god of Kyusu” and is a renowned Banko pottery kyusu artist.

Yamada-san holding his “family treasure” brass hole cutter used to make the strainer. The nail on his right thumb is used for making the knob on the lid.
Kyusu greenware before high firing. The spout is attached slightly turned counter-clockwise, because the clay will pull back and the spout will turn clockwise during the firing.

According to Yamada-san, a good kyusu is comfortable to hold, which means that it should be easily held by one hand without any part of the user’s hand touching the lower body of the kyusu as it can get quite hot. The kyusu should also have a spout that pours smoothly and does not dribble. The strainer should allow for the last drop of tea to come out of the pot easily. And finally, the wall of the kyusu should be very thin so that it is light and easily held with one hand.

A hiragata kyusu by Yamada Yutaro. A good kyusu is lightweight and comfortable to hold with one hand.

From clay preparation to firing, Yamada-san is tirelessly meticulous. It was so refreshing and infectious to see his fascination with the kyusu. “I think good work inherently embodies the passion and spirit of the maker, and I want to make such work,”, Yamada-san observes. Looking at his beautiful kyusu, I think he is already doing this extremely well.

New Quilt by Sarah Nishiura: Inspired by Taisho Design

Textiles Sarah Nishiura

Quilts by Sarah Nishura in our shop->

How cultures and designs inspire beyond time and borders is fascinating and eye-opening. Across the ages, early Greek artists were attracted by the ancient Egyptians, French impressionists were influenced by Japanese woodblock prints, and old Korean ceramics inspire today’s Japanese potters.

Sarah Nishiura’s quilt was inspired by a Taisho era kimono pattern

So I was intrigued to hear that Sarah Nishiura’s new quilt was inspired by a Taisho era kimono, with its bold and also slightly nostalgic pattern. Sarah says that she is really interested in the scale of the designs in the Taisho era kimono and the way its [large] scale allows the whole garment to come alive with the movement of the body. A quilt is much more like a kimono than a painting from the perspective that they twist and roll as they cover the body.

Quilt by Sarah Nishiura. A quilt is much more like a kimono than a painting, because it twists and rolls as it covers a surface

The designs from the Taisho era are eclectic mixtures of traditional Japanese designs with influences from contemporaneous Western design schools like Art Deco. Taisho was a unique time when Western and Japanese designs influenced each other simultaneously. And fortunately, because Japanese do not throw away kimono easily (mottainai), many examples of the patterns from the Taisho era are still easy to find.

Taisho era kimono with a large scale “Yabane” arrow feather pattern from my closet. This kimono belonged to my grandmother and is paper thin now, but I still wear it as “jyuban” -inner wear- for my kimono.

To provide a little background, Taisho (1912-1926) was a short era right after the better known Meiji (1868-1912) and just before Showa (1926-1989). Taisho was a time when liberalism flourished, popular culture was spread by mass media, café culture blossomed, and the new world opened for women to work and declare financial and spiritual independence. It is the equivalent of the “Roaring Twenties” in the West.

And the Taisho era continues to influence people today. If you ask a Japanese what comes to mind when they think of the Taisho era, they would probably say “Taisho Modern”.

Tokyo Station on the Marunouchi side. Originally opened in 1914, the station is a well-known and iconic brick structure from the Taisho era. The facade was restored to its original outlook in 2012.
Photo by J. Evans

The term “Taisho Modern”, or also called “Taisho Roman”, refers to spaces and designs that conjure up the culture of Taisho. I think of strikingly patterned kimono, cafes with high ceilings and stained glass windows, and old Japanese-Western style architecture that can still be seen in the high-end Ginza and Nihombashi districts of Tokyo

My great-grandparents, my grandparents, and my mother. Meiji, Taisho, and Showa eras on display in one photograph. My parents always talk about the generations who survived the Taisho era as tough and brave.

Most important, “Taisho Modern” carries an inherent feeling of resilience because Japan survived the Great Kanto Earthquake (1923) during Taisho, which was the country’s worst-ever natural disaster in which more than 100,000 people lost their lives. My parents always talk about the generations of people who survived the Taisho era as tough and brave. So I feel that it is a perfect sentiment for a lovely quilt that stands up to use and protects us from the cold, and does it in great style.

Kabocha in a Black Shallow Bowl By Shumpei Yamaki: Are You Eating the Skin?

Ceramics Food and Craft Shumpei Yamaki

Ceramics by Shumpei Yamaki in our shop ->

When I was 5 years old, a guest stayed at our little apartment in Japan. In the morning, my mother served the usual breakfast of grilled salted salmon with miso soup and rice. Seeing that the guest carefully removed the skin of the salmon and left it on their plate, my young unfiltered mouth blurted out: “wah, you don’t eat the skin? It’s really tasty you know, it’s the best part…what a waste (mottainai)!”.

My mother to this day talks about this episode and how embarrassing it was for her because it was obvious that I wanted the guest to give me the salmon skin if they were not eating it. And for a long time after the incident, there was an uncomfortable glare coming from my mother whenever I sat down with guests at the dining table.

Kabocha pumpkin in a wood-fired black bowl by Shumpei Yamaki. Black is a great background for colorful fall vegetables and fruits.

Speaking of skin, the other food that I like to eat right now with skin are the kabocha pumpkins that are coming into season.

To prepare kabocha, I cut them up into generous chunks with the skin and put them in a shallow braising pan in a single layer. Then I add about ¼ -½ inch of water, drizzle a little olive oil, and sprinkle salt, cover and boil for about 10-12 minutes. The key is that there is enough water to boil and slowly reduce. After turning the stove off, all the water gets absorbed into the pumpkin leaving no liquid. I prefer this simple preparation to the normal Japanese recipe that calls for sake, sugar and soy sauce because I find that recipe too sweet.

Cooking in a braising pan with just enough water to be absorbed back into the pumpkin pieces.

The result are firm chunks of delicious pumpkin pieces that can be eaten hot or cold. And the best part is the contrast of texture between the skin and the pumpkin meat!

Whenever I’m served peeled kabocha, I say loudly in my head “mottainai“! And, you may be surprised that there are things that people eat with skin in the US that almost all Japanese don’t, such as peaches. The first time I saw my husband eat peaches with skin, I was horrified. Japanese generally like to eat fruit without skin, and I should do some research as to why this is for another blog post. In the meantime, enjoy your kabocha with skin, and maybe also your salmon skin? Otherwise, MOTTAINAI!

Kabocha pumpkin. Don’t remove the skin it’s the best part!