Category: People

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”.

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?

October 10, 2018Ceramics 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!

‘Strawberry Milk’ in a Pinched Rim Bowl by Hanako Nakazato

August 14, 2018Hanako Nakazato Ceramics Food and Craft

Ceramics by Hanako Nakazato will be available in our shop on August 15th at 6:00 am ->

‘Strawberry milk’ in a pinched rim bowlby Hanako Nakazato
(Note: The spoon is an ordinary rounded-bottom variant and not the exotic flat bottom design)

Did you eat ‘strawberry milk’ when you were growing up? It was huge in the 70s in Japan (along with mini-skirts and permed hair), and I begged my mother to buy us the ‘strawberry spoons’ that were perfectly designed to squish the strawberries in the milk with their flat bottoms.

As a little girl, I always believed that “strawberries sprinkled with sugar and squished in milk” was a fancy western way to eat strawberries. But now that I think of it, I’ve never seen anyone eat strawberries in this way in the U.S. or Europe.

According to my parents’ generation, strawberries that first became available to the general public in Japan in the post war Showa era were extremely sour and so the Japanese concocted ‘strawberry milk’ as a way to enjoy this sour fruit.

Eyeing the massive demand for a utensil that efficiently squashed strawberries in milk, the ‘strawberry spoon’ was created in 1960 by Kobayashi Kogyo Co., a cutlery manufacturer in Niigata prefecture, and their ‘Romance’ line of cutlery received the prestigious Good Design Award in 1974. So this company joins the ranks of Japanese titans like Sony and Toyota as the pioneers of Japanese style.

Click here to look at Kobayashi Kogyo’s cutlery catalog. The said spoon is on page. 35, fifth spoon from the bottom in the photo #11617-000 at 850 yen

This marvelous invention lessoned the likelihood of strawberries slipping or flying out of the bowl across the table, which saved the day for a lot of busy Japanese parents.

And the best part is when all the squished strawberries are eaten, you get to drink the sweet strawberry milk straight from the bowl!

Grand Opening of Entoten Gallery with White Ceramics by Hanako Nakazato

August 5, 2018ENTOTEN Gallery Event Hanako Nakazato Ceramics

On August 11th from 12:00 pm to 5 pm, Entoten Gallery in San Diego will have a grand opening event featuring white ceramics by Hanako Nakazato of Monohanako in Maine.

Hat bowls by Hanako Nakazato

I’m very happy to feature Hanako’s work at the opening of my gallery because when I was refinishing the texture of the gallery’s walls, I had her white ceramics in mind and decided to paint one of the walls blue. I thought that this blue backdrop would be perfect for people to see the exquisite forms of Hanako’s creations.

Shinogi bowl by Hanako Nakazato

I have always been grateful in being able to introduce Hanako’s work through my website because I believe that she is one of the most brilliant potters of our generation. If you have ever used her pots on your dining table, I know that you will agree. And if you haven’t yet, I hope that our gallery opening will be your opportunity to see her outstanding work in person.

I hope to see you all there!

Hanako Nakazato doing a demonstration at her studio in Karatsu for pottery enthusiasts from the US in the spring of 2018

A Deeper Connection: Ceramics by Mitch Iburg

July 25, 2018Ceramics Mitch Iburg

Ceramics by Mitch Iburg will be available in our shop from 9:00 a.m. July 25th 2018 ->

What sets the work of Minnesota potter Mitch Iburg apart from his contemporaries is a depth and intensity of effort that is profound but not immediately visible. While most potters begin their work by wedging their purchased clay in the studio, Mitch’s starting point is to go through local geological publications, survey maps, mining databases, and walking the terrain from where he acquires his materials to create his work.

Ash-glazed vessel by Mitch Iburg. By coil-building vessels, Mitch feels that he can add a sense of history through layers, similar to rock formations that document the conditions at the time they were deposited.

Many people might consider that going to such lengths of effort that Mitch does is pointless and conflicts with the more pressing need to be productive and efficient. But luckily Mitch doesn’t think so.

“I research and collect rocks, minerals and clays throughout Minnesota,” Mitch says. He gathers, tests, and prepares the clay all year around, which is at the heart of his work. Maintaining this commitment limits how much can be produced, but Mitch believes that it is crucial to know the origins and history of these resources to keep a strong connection to the natural environment that they came from.

Left: A clay exposure near the Minnesota River. Right: Collecting felspathic sandstone
Photos courtesy of Mitch Iburg

Crude kaolin from the Minnesota River Valley. Photo courtesy of Mitch Iburg

Test tiles made from blends of collected, unprocessed clay. Photo courtesy of Mitch Iburg

Mitch’s path to learning about clay began when he first saw Japanese anagama fired ceramics. “There was so much about them that I couldn’t quite grasp or understand, but I felt a strong, visceral attraction to them that compelled me to study wood firing and ceramics”, Mitch said.

It took a long time for Mitch to comprehend the appeal, but he recalls that, “one day, while working in the studio it finally hit me. I realized that it was like watching a tree swaying in the wind. The wind itself is invisible, but its power and movement become manifested and made visible by the branches and leaves. The vessels were similar to the tree in that they recorded the presence of larger phenomena – the passing of time, alteration of materials by heat, and the enduring life cycle of the Earth.”

Tea bowl by Mitch Iburg.

Mitch views his ceramic process as a tool for translating the sweeping and often unfathomable phenomena that have shaped our world into something tangible. Personally, I feel that the focused intension and stubbornness of Mitch in his approach allows him to create unparalleled work that speaks to us emotionally.

It also reminds me of the philosophy of tea that Okakura Kakuzo describes in his “The Book of Tea“, which is a “moral geometry, inasmuch as it defines our sense of proportion to the universe.” I feel that Mitch’s lifework is a similar effort to grasp that sense of scale.

Tokkuri by Mitch Iburg

Sincere, precious, yet humble, the attraction of Mitch’s work is similar to how I feel about the ancient unglazed pottery made in Japan called Sue ware from the 5^th and 6^th centuries. They were the first non-porous types of ceramics made in Japan, using the technique learned from the more advanced Koreans, who in turn learned it from the Chinese. Perhaps it is because in both Mitch’s work and Sue ware, I feel the earnest joy to create something hard and useful out of something that is soft and brittle found in nature.

In the past six years that I have known Mitch’s work, I have often wondered how long he would be able to continue to make pots in the way that he does. So, it is delightful to see that he has expanded his body of work such as the wheel-thrown tableware that intrinsically preserves a sense of connection to nature while allowing him to use a broader range of materials. He also recently was a recipient of the Jerome Ceramic Artist Project Grant from the Northern Clay Center to re-examine the role of natural materials in the field of ceramic art.

Wheel-thrown tea cups by Mitch Iburg. Creating food-safe vessels require the use of commercial silica and feldspar, but Mitch still researches the parent rock and only introduces materials that are closest to the region.

Mitch says that his development was helped by many of his fellow potters in the wood-fire community, which has forged a special symbiotic relationship between established and emerging artists. He points to artists like John Jessiman in Virginia, Nick Schwartz in California, and Samuel Johnson in Minnesota that have played crucial roles in helping his evolution.

I would like to think that Mitch’s approach is proof that nothing has fundamentally changed since the time of the Sue potters. That efforts that are seemingly invisible make all the difference over time, and from the seeds sown by a community that is willing to work together will emerge trees that will grow and sway in the wind for many generations to come.

Northern Minnesota landscape
Photo courtesy of Mitch Iburg

Revisiting the Pottery Village of Onta: The Resilience of Natural Rhythms

May 30, 2018Onta Mingei Ontayaki

Ontayaki in Entoten shop ->
Read my first blog post about Onta ->

On a dreary, rainy May day, I visited the remote pottery village of Onta in Kyushu for the second time as an interpreter for a pottery tour group organized by Bill Geisinger and Ben Horiuchi. It has been 5 years since I last visited this magical place and I was keen to see its current state because the village had experienced a large earthquake in 2016, followed by heavy rains in the summer of 2017 that had flooded the town and surrounding areas. I had read news reports that the rain caused severe mudslides that cut off this already remote village from the rest of the world for a week.

Sakamoto Yoshitaka preparing clay in Onta. The clay is being dried on top of a drying kiln and to the left is a hut where the kara-usu -traditional clay-crushing devices- are to be reinstalled.

The impact of these natural calamities on Onta’s pottery-making infrastructure has been devastating, but the spirit of its potters has been resilient. Many of the kara-usu, the traditional wooden clay-crushing devices that operate like a seesaw and are powered by water from the local river, were destroyed.

This area was flooded in 2017 and all of the clay was lost. The kara-usu, seen in the top right insert of this 2013 photo, were also destroyed.

“Our kara-usu were destroyed and all the clay that we harvested were also washed away”, said Sakamoto Yoichi, a young Onta potter that we visited. He and his father Sakamoto Yoshitaka are the descendants of the original founders of Onta that began in 1705. “We have to go and get more clay”, Yoichi-san smiled and spoke cheerfully as he stood in the rain to show us the newly poured concrete in the clay-making area along the river.

Onta clay drying atop a wood burning dryer.

But “getting and making more clay” is no easy task. In Onta, the clay is prepared through the traditional method of harvesting, pounding, elutriating and drying of the material and this whole process takes well over a month of back-breaking work to complete. Onta’s way of life and especially its way of making pottery has changed little since Yanagi Muneyoshi (aka Soetsu), the father of the Mingei movement, visited in 1931 and recorded this approach in his famous book ‘Hita no Sarayama’.

The front of the Sakamoto Yoshitaka kiln in Onta during a heavy downpour. On a sunny day, the pots will be drying out in the front.

As we walked past Yoichi-san’s wood-firing kiln, we saw finished pots that were left inside of it. Yoichi-san explained that they were fired in the kiln in time for the Golden Week vacation (a week-long vacation in Japan from late April to the beginning of May), but the annual festival was cancelled this year because many Onta families still have not yet recovered from the 2017 disaster. “Even though the festival was cancelled, I was happy that many people came,” Yoichi-san said with a big smile.

The workspace of Onta potter Sakamoto Yoichi. With a kick-wheel, no electricity is required, except for the lighting and radio that he listens to while working.

In his studio, Yoichi-san and his father Yoshitaka-san demonstrated wheel-throwing and slip glazing for our group. “I wanted to demonstrate the tobikan’na (chatter marking), but the pots are not dry enough unfortunately”, Yoichi-san said apologetically, “so I will demonstrate the hakeme (brush patted slip marking)”.

Sakamoto Yoshitaka (left) and Yoichi (right) demonstrating slip-glazing and hakeme for the visiting group.

I was very happy to be able to see this demonstration because even though the chatter-marking is probably the most famous slip decoration of Onta, my personal favorite is hakeme, which is also known as uchi-hakeme. I like hakeme because it involves a simple tool of a brush, and the tapping marks speak of the maker’s rhythm. Some other traditional Ontayaki decorations include yubikaki (finger marking) and kushikaki (comb marking).

Hakeme and kushikaki on fresh Onta clay. Onta potters use very wet clay for throwing.

Cream colored ontayaki with traditional decorations.

Throughout the time our group was with the Sakamotos, I was touched by their kind and gentle manner. Just like the warm cream-colored Ontayaki (ontaware) pottery that they produce, their humbleness and optimism impressed me considering the huge challenges that they have had to deal with in the past several years.

The original Hita no Sarayama by Yanagi Muneyoshi with a stencil dyed cover. Onta was made famous by this small book published in 1942 and was designated as intangible cultural property by the Japanese government in 1995.

After returning to California, I re-read Hita no Sarayama to search for insights from what I saw during my time in Onta. Yanagi wrote, “we want to learn what fosters beauty … if we cannot grasp this important fact, we cannot be proud of our new culture. Just as we cannot indulge ourselves in the past. Hita no Sarayama (Onta) is the direct opposite of today. But that is why there are so many things we can learn from it. Because it has abundant aspects that we lack. It has the strength that is not subject to the aspect of time.”

The one and only main road through Onta is covered in yellow from the clay that is constantly used and transported around the village.

I now feel that I have a better understanding of what Yanagi meant. And if you ever have the opportunity to visit Kyushu, I urge you to make a special effort to visit this exceptional village and its resilient people.

The Unsung Heros of the Tea Room

April 24, 2018Tea Tanimura Tango

Tea Whisks by Tanimura Tango in our shop ->

Tea Whisks by Tanimura Tango
From the top left: Kazuho, Hachijuppondate, Sohenryu, Araho-Sohenryu, Unmondake shin-kazuho, Shin-kochasen
From the bottom left: Soshuryu, Araho-Soshuryu, Shin-Kazuho, Shin-Araho, Tenmoku, Kurotake Shin Kazuho

I took this photo this morning to show some of the different types of tea whisks that we received from Nara’s master tea whisk maker Tanimura Tango today. It is astonishing to see this photo and then to think that the utensil was originally devised 500 years ago, around the time that Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel ceiling, and that it has remained virtually unchanged since.

The Sistine Chapel is visited by over five million people every year, while the chasen is about the only utensil that is not given a name or revered even in the tea room. So I just wanted to say that the chasen are the little known heros of the tea room. These boxes containing the whisks read: “Great Nippon; awarded for excellence; great Yamato country’s Takayama tea whisk maker; Wahokudo Tanimura Tango”

Feel, Improvise, and Be Free: Wood-fired Ceramics by Shumpei Yamaki

April 10, 2018Ceramics Shumpei Yamaki

Work by Shumpei Yamaki in our shop ->

Iowa potter Shumpei Yamaki takes a very long time to load his single-chamber anagama kiln. “People used to mock me in school because I was so slow”, he chuckles. “But to me, kiln loading is like completing a beautiful 300-piece, three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle that has infinite picture variations”, Shumpei says in explaining why he takes about six times longer than other potters for the loading process.

“I love kiln-loading” Shumpei says passionately. “In ceramics school, we are taught that 80 per cent of the end result depends on how the kiln is loaded, but I’m surprised how little time people spend to load the kiln.”

A beautifully loaded ’Kumahei’ kiln of Iowa potter Shumpei Yamaki before the firing. Each piece is placed with the greatest care and attention. The wood is added from the front part of the kiln and the pieces closest to the front receive the most effect from the fire and ash. (Photo Courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki)

Unlike many potters that load similar sized items in groups inside the kiln, Shumpei arranges vessels of various sizes and shapes all mixed together. It takes much longer to load pieces this way, but to Shumpei the utmost advantage of firing unglazed wares in a wood-firing kiln is the freedom in the way the pieces can be arranged inside it.

The kiln is fired for 4 to 5 days. (Photo courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki)

The kiln after the firing. Towards the end of the firing, Shumpei drops the pieces closest to the stoking hole onto the hot embers. While there is a risk of the pieces breaking, Shumpei thinks that the most exciting effects can be achieved from this process. (Photo Courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki)

To place each piece, Shumpei considers how the fire will flow between the pieces and how the ashes may fall onto their surfaces: by stacking, putting the pieces on their sides, and placing them diagonally or upside-down. Shumpei takes his time because he simply does not want to ‘waste’ the space by lining up similar pieces.

Wood-fired Jar by Shumpei Yamaki. This jar is an example of a piece dropped onto the embers in the firebox.

All of this attention to kiln loading and pottery making in general was implausible to Shumpei back in the late 1990s when he arrived in the U.S. to learn street and house dance. He then went on to study archaeology at the University of Wisconsin, but was still unsure if this topic was what he wanted to pursue as a career.

Behind Shumpei’s move to the U.S., there were complex tales of brilliantly talented family members and self-imposed expectations in life as the eldest son, together with perhaps a desire to run away from it all.

Shumpei never dreamed that he would become a potter (Photo Courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki)

Then in 1999, Shumpei almost lost his life and his right arm in a car accident, which completely changed his life. “I woke up thinking, wow I had a great sleep” he said. “Then when I opened my eyes I was surrounded by people and that’s when I realized I was in an accident.”

Traumatic as this accident may have been, Shumpei speaks openly about it because he realizes that if it was not for this event, the club-dancing, fashion-conscious young man would have never learned pottery that was recommended as physical therapy for his damaged arm. Shumpei’s natural gift was quickly recognized by Karen Terpstra, Professor of Art at the University of Wisconsin who recommended Shumpei to continue with his ceramics studies. He went on to apprentice under Richard Bresnahan of St. John’s Pottery at the College of St. Benedict and St. John’s University, and eventually received a MFA from the University of Iowa.

Simple and modern wood-fired bowl by Shumpei Yamaki

The hallmark of Shumpei’s works are their refreshingly modern and sharp lines, a welcome diversion from wood-fired works that often have a rustic and clunky image. Shumpei’s care to pull out the maximum effects of fire in the kiln are evident in every one of his pieces.

Wood-fired bottle by Shumpei Yamaki

“I started with the presumption that true vessels are made unintentionally” Shumpei says, “so I wanted to learn the skill to be able to throw speedily, eventually without thought. But then I discovered that this style did not work for me. When I make pots, I want to put feelings into each piece and I always aim to create each vessel with sincerity.”

Shumpei takes time to make each piece of pottery with heart-felt sincerity.

Until Shumpei started making ceramics, he assumed that he would end up living in the city, similar to where he grew up in Japan. After all, nature and earth were the furthest away from his interests. But now rural Iowa is his home, where all he can see around him is the horizon and his kiln.

Shumpei Yamaki’s kiln in West Branch, Iowa (Photo Courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki)

Shumpei contemplates the path that he has traveled. “I was sent to nature camps when I was growing up and I couldn’t adapt so I thought it wasn’t for me. But now that I live here [in the countryside], I’m surprised how much I enjoy it”. He is making elegant pots and also continuing to dance, and he’s so good at both because of his extraordinary ability to feel, improvise, and be free.

California Natives: Manzanita “Vandenberg” in a Vase by Bill Geisinger

January 18, 2018Bill Geisinger Research Tea

How should I select and arrange flowers in a vessel? For the tea room, Japanese tea master Sen no Rikyu (1522-1591) famously said that “the flowers should be arranged as they are in the field”.

As I walked my dog one fall morning last year and saw the misleadingly iconic imported palm trees and eucalyptuses against the blue California sky, I wondered “so what did Californian fields look like before these exotic plants arrived?”

Palm trees are ubiquitous in San Diego, and they seem to be considered representative of California

Looking out to the ocean from Torrey Pines State Natural Reserve. Natural reserves provide a glimpse of what indigenous California fields look like. The Southern California coast often starts gray in the morning, as seen in this photo, but then brightens as the sun breaks through for the rest of the day.

On one side of our back garden, I have a long strip of planter area that I had been been watching weeds grow for the last two years. My grand plan after all the necessary repairs were done inside the house, was to plant some beautiful flowers like camellias and peonies that are listed as ‘appropriate’ for the tea room. No I don’t have such a room yet, but it is part of my ambitious 20-year renovation vision that I promise to discuss with my husband who will first read about the plan in this blog.

I began researching camellias and read about the care and attention for the one type that I have always wanted. It is called Camellia Wabisuke and is a small single form camellia that I frequently see in photos of tea room alcoves. My desire for this flower was made stronger because of its perfect name, which includes the word wabi!

Japan’s oldest Wabisuke Camellia in Ryoanji temple Kyoto, conveniently labeled for tourists with a sign.

Then, I looked at a photo that I took of Japan’s oldest Wabisuke plant in Ryoanji from a past trip to Kyoto, and realized that I was crazy. Camellias really belong where there is regular rain and sufficient humidity, which is usually where luscious mosses can grow and cover the ground. When I mentioned this to my tea teacher who has been growing tea flowers in San Diego for the last 50 years, she shook her head and confirmed that “camellias are the most difficult to grow and care for” in Southern California.

Single form white camellia that will be close to impossible to grow in Southern California. White camellias are especially difficult to grow according to my tea teacher.

Feeling defeated before even planting a single flora, I looked through my tea ceremony guide book and re-read the seven rules of Sen no Rikyu, which led me to the opening question of this blog.

After some research, I was surprised to discover that there are thousands of plant species in California, many of which can be found nowhere else. Many also bloom with beautiful and unostentatious flowers. I excitedly thought that I should try turning my back-garden dirt strip into a native flower cutting garden and started to investigate which plants I should grow. This was no easy task because the actual plants are not commonly sold in nearby nurseries.

Tree of Life Nursery in San Juan Capistrano

Finally when I attended a native garden workshop I discovered the Tree of Life nursery in San Juan Capistrano that is owned by Mike Evans. I was inspired when he said that “your garden should provide a sense of place and it should be a place where you want to spend time engaging and enjoy caring for”. Tree of Life specializes in native plants suited for Southern California and each plant is provided with a detailed description for the care that it needs, which is very helpful for a novice gardener like me.

The first native flower I planted was an Island Bush Poppy. This should grow to over 5 feet.

So far, I have planted 8 native grasses and flowers and they all seem to be thriving. One of them is the Manzanita “Vandenberg,” so called because it was discovered on the central coast near Vandenberg Air Force Base. The planting direction that I follow is: “dig a hole twice as big as the container, plant with no fertilizer, no soil amendments, just some mulch and native soil.”

Manzanita Vandenberg with deer grass in Bill Geisinger’s wood-fired vase. Its flowers look like lovely upside down vases when looked at closely, its fruit look like mini apples (manzanita in Spanish).

Today, I cut a stem from the Vandenberg and put it in a vase by Bill Geisinger, which is made from California native clay. I do not know what Master Rikyu would have thought about this arrangement, but it was a moment when I realized that the wisdom he had left behind over 400 years ago continues to be relevant as a guide for figuring out a good perspective, and a way of life. Above all, I am grateful that these plants provide a sense of connection to California, even for a transplant like me.

Cooperage by Marshall Scheetz: The Keeper of an Ancient Skill

December 14, 2017Wood Marshall Scheetz

Coopered vessels by Marshall Scheetz in our shop ->

Until I saw the solid and tightly coopered sea service bucket by Marshall Scheetz of Jamestown Cooperage, I never gave much thought to how, even just 100 years ago, coopered wooden containers were essential for people in their daily lives.

A sea service bucket by Marshall Scheetz. It is so called because it doesn’t tip over easily with the wide base. This bucket has been used outdoors for carrying water and other garden chores for over a year and is still completely watertight.

“It is so interesting to look at 18th century illustrated encyclopedias. Almost every image in every chapter depicts people from all walks of life using barrels, tubs and buckets for their work”, Marshall points out. He is one of only half a dozen or so remaining master coopers in the U.S. with the ability to create and repair all kinds of cooperage using traditional tools. The types of work that Marshall makes include the most difficult watertight casks for carrying valuable liquid like wine to everyday vessels like tubs, buckets and tankards that have now mostly been replaced by plastic counterparts.

Marshall Scheetz at a coopering demonstration in Saratoga in 2016.
Photo courtesy of Marshall Scheetz

Marshall learned his coopering skills during a six-year apprenticeship under master cooper James Pettengell at the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. Since 1971, only four people completed the apprenticeship under master coopers George and James Pettengell, who were brothers that moved from London to set up the cooper shop at Colonial Willamsburg.

Many apprenticeships failed because of the long-term commitment that is required. Also, people often entered the training program believing (as I did) that other woodworking skills like carpentry would easily translate into coopering skills that, in fact, does not. Marshall explains that coopering “requires equal parts brute strength and graceful manipulation of materials”, so “the physical demands of the trade can use you up.”

Master coopers James (on the far right) and George (in the far back) Pettengell at a traditional initiation ceremony for a cooper who completed the apprenticeship. Since 1971, only four journeymen including Marshall Scheetz completed the cooperage apprenticeship in Colonial Williamsburg. George retired in 2000 and James retired in 2016. Photo courtesy of Marshall Scheetz

With a surge of renewed appreciation and demand for liqueurs like whiskeys, wines and beers aged in wood barrels, there are currently many coopers working in the U.S. I remember reading a few years ago about a barrel shortage in the booming bourbon industry, so the cooper’s trade, in the form of barrels, is thriving. These industrial coopers assemble staves, drives hoops, and repair casks just as traditional coopers do, but Marshall is unique because while he can make and repair casks, he also creates smaller items like buckets, tankards and tubs that require an additional set of skills and tools.

Piggins at the cooperage studio of Marshall Scheetz in Williamsburg, Virginia.
Photo courtesy of Marshall Scheetz

While industrial coopers spend the majority of their time operating machinery, Marshall continues an ancient skill of cooperage using traditional tools taught by his master. As a scholar, teacher, and expert on cooperage history, it is important for Marshall to carry on what was taught to him.

Left: A hogshead sized barrel (63 gallons) just before trussing (bending of the staves to make the barrel shape).
Right: Marshall heating the barrel staves to soften the wood so they will bend when the truss hoops are hammered down onto the splayed end of the cask. The fire is contained inside a small metal basket called a cresset.

To make a cask, Marshall uses about two dozen tools. Most of the hand-tools that he uses are antiques from the 19^th to early 20^th centuries. They are oiled on a daily to weekly basis and grounded or sharpened only as needed on a traditional whet stone wheel with water.

Some of the cooper’s tools used by Marshall Scheetz
Photo courtesy of Marshall Scheetz

Marshall occasionally prepares raw materials from trees, but mostly, he uses quarter-sawn timber from mills so that he can focus his time on honing his coopering skills. Manually shaping the wood for staves and other parts of the coopered vessel require cognitive skills that are more like sculpting than woodworking. To create a watertight vessel, he measures subtle details by touching the stave and scanning for corrections, and makes them liquid tight simply by the fit of the pieces.

＞＞Click to Watch Marshall demonstrating coopering at George Washington’s Mount Vernon＜＜

The resulting buckets, tubs and everyday containers are high-quality functional items and they carry the intrinsic beauty of the hand and its work.

A sea service bucket that has been tightened, and the bottom has been leveled off with the sun place tool. The next step is to cut the bottom groove with the croze. The two hoops on the bucket are heavy “ring hoops” used to build the container, but replaced after all the wood working is finished. Photo courtesy of Marshall Scheetz

Marshall jokes that “hand-making products by yourself in the modern capitalistic society can be economic suicide”. But Marshall thinks of himself as a keeper of the cultural heritage of an ancient skill, which means that he is constantly researching about cooperage history. Some of the topics that he is currently studying include looking at the production points of Hagley Gunpowder Mills, the whaling industry of New England, and cooperage made by the Shakers in the late 18^th and 19^th centuries.

Sea service buckets by Marshall Scheetz

Yanagi Muneyoshi, the Japanese founder of the Mingei movement said, “handwork, because it has nature behind it, has a way of fostering good life.” Marshall clearly has a fulfilling job with a purpose, and that certainly entails a “good life.”