Category: Shumpei YAMAKI

The Saint John’s Pottery in Minnesota: An American Pottery Tradition

By:
Minnesota Ceramics Samuel JOHNSON Shumpei YAMAKI

To understand the story of the Saint John’s Pottery in Collegeville, Minnesota, it is worthwhile going to the studio in person. In July, I visited this legendary pottery studio located inside the serene Benedictine environment of the College of Saint Benedict and Saint John’s University (CSBSJU), accompanied by my photographer friend Tomoko Matsubayashi.

“It’s slightly unusual,” said Samuel Johnson, potter and Chair of the Art Department of CSBSJU, about the fascinating relationship and history between the Saint John’s Pottery and the University.  “Ultimately, the pottery exists because it extends the Benedictine values of hospitality and community.”

I’ve been working with Sam since 2014, and this was the first time we met face to face. I was eager to see him because he is one of the rare breed of potters that went through multiple layers of training that included spending time as a Japanese-style pottery apprentice at the Saint John’s Pottery, going to graduate school, and studying overseas in Copenhagen and Japan.

Samuel Johnson’s pottery studio in Saint Joseph, MN
Kick-wheels at Samuel Johnson’s pottery studio in Saint Joseph, MN

We first met at Sam’s studio by his house located in Saint Joseph, a few minutes away from the college campus. Equipped with kick-wheels and long planks of ware boards, the studio resembled the pottery studios that I visited in Karatsu, Japan.

Many of the characteristics —even the studio’s cleanliness— are testimony to the transmission of knowledge through distance and time. Richard Bresnahan, Sam’s teacher, and the Artist-in-Residence at the Saint John’s Pottery, trained under the renowned Japanese potter Nakazato Takashi in Karatsu, Saga prefecture.  “Through the tradition I was studying I felt linked to the past, to potters from other places and times,” Sam says.

Handmade pots line shelves at Samuel Johnson’s pottery studio in Saint Joseph, MN
Samuel Johnson standing next to long wooden ware boards at his studio in Saint Joseph, MN
Coiled and paddled wood-fired jars by Samuel Johnson

There are two wood-firing kilns on the CSBSJU compound. The smaller kiln is called Sister Dennis Kiln that Sam built in 2012. This kiln is usually fired in the spring and fall, giving opportunities for students at the university to experience the traditional method of firing pottery. Through this experience, the students learn to work together and appreciate the beauty and function of handmade pots. “I studied here, so I thought it was only natural to use handmade pots,” Sam said in explaining the positive impact of being familiar with handmade ceramics. “But many people in the rest of the United States often ask if it’s possible to eat from a plate made in this manner.”

Sister Dennis Kiln at CSBSJU. The kiln is fired for about 76 hours using wood from the college arboretum.
Stoking windows on the side of Sister Dennis Kiln at CSBSJU.
Sister Dennis Kiln at CSBSJU. Once the pottery pieces are loaded inside, the kiln opening is closed using bricks and clay before firing.

In the afternoon, we visited the Saint John’s Pottery located on the west side of campus. Unfortunately, I was not able to meet Richard Bresnahan on this visit because he was traveling to celebrate his birthday with his family. “I lived in that small narrow room,” Sam said, pointing to the upper part of the brick building as we entered from the door below. “It was so narrow that if I stretched out my arms, I could almost touch both walls of the room.”

The Saint John’s Pottery Studio in Collegeville, MN
The upper brick part of the studio building is Saint Joseph Hall, originally built in 1899, which was used to house lay employees and workers. Richard Bresnahan first established the studio in the building’s abandoned root cellar in 1979. In 1992, the University moved the studio by building a new foundation and relocating the whole 4000 sf historic building on top. 

Studio Manager Daniel Smith and apprentice Luke Kiefer welcoming us with tea around the Japanese hearth at Saint John’s Pottery

Current members working at the pottery welcomed us for tea around the famous pottery hearth at the entrance to the studio. They included Environmental Artist-in-Residence, Steve Lemke; Studio Manager, Daniel Smith; and apprentice, Luke Kiefer. Through conversations over tea made with water boiled in a cast iron kettle and poured from handmade teapots, I learned about the many obstacles the studio had to overcome to establish and continue its apprenticeship program. Despite these setbacks, Bresnahan has successfully trained more than 50 apprentices over the last 44 years, and many more artists have come to learn at the pottery as residents of the studio with the help of supporters and grants.

“The Melon Cup” is the first form an apprentice of Richard Bresnahan’s learns to throw on the wheel. The wood kilns at CSBSJU bring out the color of the clay vividly because they are fired at lower temperature than most anagama kilns
Luke Kiefer and Daniel Smith working on kick-wheels at the Saint John’s Pottery.
Daniel Smith trimming the foot of a bowl on a kick-wheel. The kick-wheels are turned clockwise in Karatsu, Japan, but they are turned counter-clockwise at the Saint John’s Pottery, as do most potters in the US

The clay used at the Saint John’s Pottery is made from a nearby deposit that is extracted, stockpiled, and processed as needed in-house using secondhand equipment. The wood used to fuel the kilns is environmentally sustainable, certified by the Forest Stewardship Council, and comes from the nearly 3,000-acre Saint John’s Abbey Arboretum. The apprentices not only master their skills in a deeply immersive setting but also learn to sustainably use the natural resources from the surrounding environment.

Work by Richard Bresnahan, Artist-in-Residence and founder of the Saint John’s Pottery. I hope to meet him in person in the future

Sam says that through his apprenticeship with Bresnahan, he experienced the quality that stirs the imagination in his work. “In cups and bowls that I make, but also in the mundane aspects of work [like] washing ashes or clay, stacking wood,” he said. “This is one of the gifts my teacher gave me.”

The Saint John’s Pottery is a hub that disseminates a deep knowledge of pottery craft. Its apprentices, including Sam and Iowa potter Shumpei Yamaki, are gems of this unique American pottery tradition.

The clay processing area of the Saint John’s Pottery using recycled equipment.

After the tour of the studio, Daniel Smith took us to the other wood-firing kiln on campus, which is the famous Johanna Kiln that was designed and built by Richard Bresnahan in 1994. At over 80 feet, the kiln is the largest of its kind in North America and can hold around 12,000 pieces in a single firing. The kiln is fired once every two years, and as its front chamber is currently being repaired, the next firing won’t take place until October 2024. The labor-intensive firing event lasts for 10 days with the help of 60 volunteers who take turns stoking the kiln around the clock.

The building housing Johanna Kiln on the CSBSJU Campus in Collegeville, Minnesota.
Samuel Johnson inside the large Tanegashima Chamber of the Johanna Kiln

At the end of the day, Sam took us around the CSBSJU campus. The Benedictine monks first arrived in Collegeville in the spring of 1866, and by the end of the 19th Century had constructed the quadrangle building using bricks that they made from the rich clay deposit on site. When I saw these original bricks in the building wall that the monks made, and the durable end-grain wood floor of the Great Hall, it became clear how a remarkable institution like the Saint John’s Pottery was able to thrive here in Minnesota.

Stability, community, hospitality, and dignity of work: these Benedictine standards seem difficult to live by, especially in this modern, economically obsessed world. But what sets Saint John’s apart is that the university has made credible commitments to these ideals that are tangibly demonstrated in the work of the Saint John’s Pottery and its community of potters.

Looking towards Great Hall and the Quadrangle building from the Abbey Church of CSBSJU, Collegeville, MN
Quadrangle Building, CSBSJU, Collegeville, MN
Unevenly fired bricks inside the Quadrangle Building made by Benedictine monks in the19th century. The monks labored to build beautiful buildings, promising stability and durability. CSBSJU, Collegeville, MN
Great Hall (original Abbey) at CSBSJU, Collegeville, MN
The wooden end-grain floor laid in a herringbone pattern conveying stability and dignity of work. Great Hall, CSBSJU, Collegeville, MN
The Abbey Church and Bell Banner by architect Marcel Breuer completed in 1961. The original abbey (Great Hall) can be seen on the right, built to face East, welcoming people arriving from the railway station. The current abbey is facing North towards the road from the freeway, indicating Benedictine hospitality.
“All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ for he himself will say I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” A sign in front of the abbey woodworking building, CSBSJU, Collegeville, MN

 

All photos by Tomoko Matsubayashi for Entoten

More information about the Saint John’s Pottery at CSBSJU can be found here->
You can also donate to support the Saint John’s Pottery from here ->

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

By:
Ceramics Food and Craft Shumpei YAMAKI

New work by Shumpei Yamaki in our shop->

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By:
Ceramics Shumpei YAMAKI

New ceramics by Shumpei Yamaki in our shop ->

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.

Kintsugi: An Ancient Japanese Repairing Technique Using Urushi Lacquer

By:
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.

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

By:
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!

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

By:
Ceramics 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.