Category: People

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

December 8, 2018Jarrod Dahl Wood

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

November 28, 2018Tokoname 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 12^th 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

October 19, 2018Textiles 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?

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”