Category: Travels

Visiting Vietnam: Traveling in the Land of my Pottery Crush

February 3, 2019Vietnam

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

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

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

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

Bat Trang Pottery Village near Hanoi

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

Pottery shops in Bat Trang ceramic village near Hanoi

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

Left: Bright colored bowls and cups. Right: A lady packing bright colored ceramic pigs probably for the Vietnamese lunar new year celebrations.

Very low hand wheels with matching tiny plastic seats at a shop where customers can experience making pots.

Multi-chambered climbing kiln in Bat Trang. The kiln did not appear to have been used recently.

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

Little bowls with curved rims from Bat Trang, Vietnam.

National Museum of Vietnamese History in Hanoi

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

Left: National Museum Right: Shipwreck pottery

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

Vietnamese blue and white ceramic containers from the 15th Century

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

Ho Chi Minh

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

Vintage Song Be Ware of Ho Chi Minh

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

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

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

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

Shipwreck Pottery in Ho Chi Minh

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

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

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

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

After the Trip

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

Ceramics by Inoue Shigeru: The Intrinsic Power of Clay

December 13, 2018Tokoname Ceramics Inoue Shigeru

Mishima Ceramics by Inoue Shigeru in our shop->

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

Mishima koyomite plate by Japanese potter Inoue Shigeru

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

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

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

Clay making by Inoue Shigeru

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

Spring in Melancholic Uji: Asahiyaki Pottery and the First Harvest of Tea

June 18, 2015Kyoto Travels

Each time my tea teacher presented a collection of tea bowls for her students to use, I was invariably drawn to one with a delicate form adorned with a light shade of orange spots. Eventually, I asked my teacher where the bowl came from. She excitedly replied that it was “from Asahiyaki near Kyoto and it is one of my favorite bowls!”

An Asahiyaki tea bowl with kase markings. This bowl uses clay that is high in iron and is also called benikase, or red kase.

I had never heard of Asahiyaki, but a quick search revealed that it is a small pottery kiln located in the city of Uji, just south of Kyoto. With my curiosity piqued, I decided to pay a visit to Uji during a trip to Japan this past spring.

Located between Kyoto and Nara, Uji is easily overlooked by its larger and more famous neighbors. It is only 15 minutes by fast train from Kyoto and its most famous sight is the old Buddhist temple of Byodoin, which is designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The famous Uji bridge is said to have been first built in 646, and rebuilt countless times subsequently. It is mentioned in the classic ‘The Tale of Genji’ written by Murasaki Shikibu in the early years of the 11th Century.

In the tea world though, Uji is a heavyweight and its name is associated with green tea. Uji tea has long been renowned for its high quality and fragrance, and what this translated into during the warring states era of Japanese history was, power, privilege, intense rivalry, and… traffic jams.

During the Edo (1603–1868) era, the Tokugawa Shogun in Tokyo demanded the first tea to be delivered from Uji annually in a tea-jar procession or ochatsubo dochu. These tea jars were given the highest status and wherever the procession went, all the common folk were required to stop whatever they were doing and kneel to the ground in reverence. They were also not allowed to overtake this procession as it made its slow, snobbish way to Tokyo. This most likely created the first-ever seasonal traffic jams in Japanese history.

A sign at a Uji tea shop depicting a tea jar.Uji is only about 20 miles west of the pottery town of Shigaraki, where many tea jars were made.

Not only were the ordinary public inconvenienced annually by these tea processions, but they also had no access to the tea as this was considered to be a precious commodity only available to the ruling elites.

In today’s more egalitarian times, tea is available to all and when I set foot in Uji on an extremely hot day in early June, I enjoyed the sheer pleasure of walking through streets lined with tea shops. Many of them were advertising tea from the first harvest of the year that had just been released.

New tea harvest advertised at the front of a Uji tea shop

I walked along the north bank of the Uji river past the Ujigami Shrine and this led me to the Asahiyaki pottery, where my earlier affinity with my teacher’s tea bowl had inspired me to travel to Uji. The Asahiyaki pottery is housed in a building with a thatched roof and a tasteful fabric sign. At the pottery’s gallery, I was met by Matsubayashi Toshiyuki, the son of the 15^th generation Matsubayashi Hosai currently in charge of the 400 year-old kiln.

Toshiyuki-san explained that Asahiyaki pots are made from clay that is dug locally and matured over many years, sometimes for more than a century. The pots are thrown and fired in a traditional wood-firing kiln. The distinct spots are called kase, which means ‘deer back’ because it resembles the back of a baby deer. The markings are created when the pots are repeatedly exposed to reduction and oxidation in a single firing.

The Asahiyaki pottery gallery in Uji

I told Toshiyuki-san that the gentle form of these pots was especially intriguing. He explained that it probably stemmed from the distinct method of throwing in which a stick is used to turn and create the momentum on the wheel. “The wheel only turns for a limited amount of time with force and the revolution becomes slow very quickly which creates a distinct gentleness,” he explained.

As I left Asahiyaki pottery, I thought that gentleness is indeed the most appropriate word that captures what Uji is about, perhaps together with a little sense of melancholy. This maybe because I had read that Uji’s name originated from the Japanese word ushi, which means sorrow. Or conceivably it was from the historical depiction of Uji in The Tale of Genji -required reading during my school years- where the forsaken in life were exiled.

Looking down towards the Uji river from Ujigami shrine, which is a World Heritage Site

For the next several hours, I strolled around the river bank visiting small shrines and popping into several tea shops. At Rishouen tea shop –recommended by my hosts at Asahiyaki- the kind owner offered me a taste of unblended Uji tea, produced only in limited quantities.

When I finally arrived at Byodoin temple, the highlight for most visitors to the area, it was already late afternoon. I had come to the temple with little in the way of expectation as I had already previewed the building countless times featured on the back of the 10 Yen coin. The famous bronze phoenix on top of the temple roof is also on the 10,000 Yen note, which I see far less often.

The magnificent Byodoin temple in Uji

But when I saw the temple, I was stunned by its sheer exquisiteness. The temple was built in 1053 by Fujiwara no Yorimichi, a powerful noble who lived in the late Heian (794-1185) era. It was constructed to represent a tranquil paradise that the Heian Buddhists dreamed of after death, the heaven on earth imagined by people weary of all the turmoil they endured towards the end of an era. Magnificent colors had been restored in recent repairs to the temple, and the hues seemed to heighten the temple’s sorrowful beauty in the late afternoon light.

San-no-ma of Uji bridge, the part of the city’s famous bridge where water is drawn every October for Uji’s tea festival. It is said that Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the 16th Century daimyo and the country’s second great unifier, had water drawn from the same river for a tea ceremony.

As I left this unexpected paradise and walked back towards the train station, I wished that more buildings had survived from the Heian era. I even ambitiously thought that it would be interesting to visit Uji again after revisiting The Tale of Genji.

If you are ever in Kyoto, I highly recommend that you make the time to visit the quietude of Uji, take a sip of the acclaimed tea, and glimpse the tranquility of a bygone era.

The Flavor of the Earth: The Rustic Ceramics of Shigaraki

February 25, 2015Ceramics Shigaraki

Situated below Lake Biwa in Shiga Prefecture and surrounded by the low mountains where the famous Koka Ninja mercenaries perfected their deadly skills during the Warring States period is the pottery town of Shigaraki. Last fall I accompanied a pottery tour group organized by Bill Geisinger and Ben Horiuchi to this sedate town where we met local potters who practice the old art of wood-firing unglazed Shigaraki pottery.

Shigaraki jar by Takahashi Rakusai. The jar displays the landscape of fire color (hi-iro), scorch (koge) and burst rocks (ishihaze). The white feldspar dots protruding out of the surface of the clay are lovingly called kani-no-me (crab eyes) by enthusiasts.
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

Shigaraki is one of the oldest pottery towns in Japan with a history dating back more than 1,200 years. Historians say that local kilns were producing roof tiles when the emperor Shomu briefly relocated his palace to the area from Kyoto in 742 AD. These days, many Japanese know Shigaraki for its Tanuki or Japanese raccoon dog ceramic figures that became popular after the Meiji (1868-1912) era.

Shigaraki racoon dog figures are considered to be auspicious icons that bring good fortune.
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

By the mid 13^th century, historical accounts suggest that Shigaraki began production of simple unglazed wares with irregular colors ranging from gray to reddish orange and even black. Its distinct rough surface is due to the local clay that naturally contains numerous pieces of feldspar and silica stones of various sizes. The surface markings are achieved by a very primitive form of wood-firing kiln called Anagama.

Close up of a Shigaraki vase by Kohara Yasuhiro showing the dynamic textures and colors created naturally by the clay, fire and ash. The green wash (bidoro) is achieved by the vitrified ash from pine wood used to fire the kiln.
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

These wares, like jars and urns, were coil built and made mostly for use by farmers. In the late 16^th Century, tea masters of the late Muromachi and Momoyama (1573-1603) periods deemed these simple vessels to be of exquisite beauty for their flavor of the earth or tsuchiaji. For example, the antique Shigaraki uzukumaru, small jars for storing seeds, are highly prized as flower vases.

Looking at Shigaraki pottery, I feel similar emotions as when I see a weathered piece of wood, or old stones covered in beautiful moss. It reminds me of the power of nature and triggers both awe and longing to connect with its essence.

In our exploration of Shigaraki, we first visited Kohara Yasuhiro, an internationally famous potter who owns a large gallery and shop in the heart of Shigaraki town that features many local potters’ work.

Shigaraki small jars and large plate by Kohara Yasuhiro
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

Kohara-san’s work combines the rough Shigaraki clay with the natural and beautiful markings from the Anagama kiln. A prime example is the green glassy pool and dragonfly eye formed by the collected pine wood ash and bright orange clay surface against the dark koge or burn marks. His work is refreshingly free and contemporary while boldly reflecting the tradition and spirit of old Shigaraki ware.

Kohara-san explained that while it is often said that what happens inside a wood-fired kiln cannot be controlled, it can be anticipated through experience. His work clearly demonstrates his knowledge and expertise in the process, and potters from all over the world seek advice from him.

For those lucky enough to be going to the 28th Annual North Carolina Potter’s Conference taking place next week, you will be able to meet this talented potter along with his wife Kohara Shizuko who will be giving a presentation on Shigaraki pottery on March 5.

Anagama kiln of Kohara Yasuhiro. Left: Kohara Yasuhiro, Right: Bill Geisinger

Another potter we visited was Takahashi Rakusai V, whose family has been making wares in Shigaraki for over 180 years. The Takahashi Rakusai kiln was started by Takahashi Tozaemon, who was regarded as one of the master tea ceramics makers in the late Tokugawa Shogunate era (1853-1868).

Tea ceramics by Takahashi Rakusai
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

But by the time that Tozaemon was active in the early to mid 19^th Century, Shigaraki had already lost its leading role as a tea ceramics maker. Many of its kilns were converted to the mass-production of glazed wares with processed clay that had all of the feldspar and silica particles removed.

Takahashi Rakusai III took over the running of the family kiln in 1917 and sought to revive the beauty of unglazed tea ceramics made during the Momoyama period. His efforts were instrumental in beginning the gradual revival of unglazed Shigaraki pottery. Takahashi Rakusai III was designated as the Shiga Prefectural Intangible Cultural Property in 1964.

The inside of the snake kiln (jagama), a type of anagama at the Takahashi Rakusai kiln.
The family fires three different types of wood-fired kilns.
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

The Takahashi family continues today to produce tea ceramics and other pots for daily use. The current Takahashi Rakusai V took over the family title in 2010 and is known for his tranquil and simple work style. He is an avid student of chaji or tea matters who had studied with the renowned tea scholar Kazue Hyonenshi, and chabana or tea flower with Kato Tansai.

The three generations of potters at Takahashi Rakusai Kiln. From the left, Takahashi Rakusai IV, the current Takahashi Rakusai V and his daughter Yoshiko who is also a potter.
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

The last potter that we visited was Arakawa Satoshi, who fell in love with Shigaraki clay and relocated from far away Yamagata prefecture. I was especially excited to meet him because I had seen his beautiful work at the contemporary Japanese ceramics exhibit at the Mingei Museum in San Diego in 2012.

Shigaraki potter Arakawa Satoshi’s Anagama. In the last remodel, he increased the height of his chimney.
(Photos by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

As with many Shigaraki artist potters that fire Anagama, Arakawa-san designs and builds his own kiln. He excitedly showed us the improvements that he had made to the kiln and also the area in his backyard where some of the local clay can be found.

Arakawa-san makes beautiful large jars with spectacular fire colors, that were accepted by the Japan Kogei Association for two consecutive years. He also creates lovely table wares, especially sake wares.

Shigaraki sake cups and bottles by Arakawa Satoshi
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

The visit to Shigaraki made me think about the interesting evolution that old Japanese pottery towns are going through. Many, if not most of them, look to make progress by improving efficiency at the high cost of discarding their local traditions and distinctiveness. Fortunately for many pottery towns like Shigaraki, influential visionaries have fought to continue the traditional ways that are deemed essential for making beautiful work that are distinctive to their local regions.

By sharing these brief stories of Kohara-san, the Takahashi family, and Arakawa-san, I hope to have piqued your curiosity into learning more about Shigaraki pottery. After all, our interest in Shigaraki ceramics is the best assurance for the preservation of its tradition.

—>> Visit photographer Tomoko Matsubayashi’s website to see more photos of Shigaraki.

Beyond the Object: Visiting Kawai Kanjiro’s House in Kyoto

December 30, 2014Ceramics Kyoto Mingei Travels

If you visit the ancient city of Kyoto, let your schedule include a stop at Kawai Kanjiro’s House, which is hidden away on a narrow backstreet in Gojo-zaka. You will be rewarded with a window into the life of an accomplished potter, who was also a poet, writer, architect, and sculptor.

Kawai Kanjiro’s House in the narrow backstreets of Gojyo-zaka in Kyoto. Apart from the wooden sign written by Munakata Shiko and carved by Kuroda Tatsuaki, it looks like an ordinary house from the outside.

Kawai Kanjiro is best known as one of the leading figures of the Mingei movement, but his impact reaches far beyond. A conversation about his life’s work can easily turn into a discussion about the spirit and soul of what it means to be a maker and artist. His house, which is now restored as a museum, is the ultimate expression of his perspective on a life that he loved and embraced to the full.

Photo of Kawai Kanjiro on the left and his handwritten verse “one buys things, one buys oneself”

Kawai (1890-1966) was born in Shimane prefecture to a family of carpenters. He aspired to be a potter and attended the Ceramic Industry Department at Tokyo Higher Technical School (today known as Tokyo Institute of Technology). Not long after his graduation, Kawai had a successful solo exhibition at a major department store in Tokyo in 1921 that cemented his success as a potter. He was especially famed for his mastery of various glazes and ancient Chinese and Korean techniques.

But as his popularity grew, Kawai became increasingly dissatisfied with his work. As a result, he joined the Mingei movement and after spending three years in seclusion, drastically changed his style and started to make functional pottery for everyday use. His style and creativity continued to develop in his later years when he produced many different forms of ceramics, woodcarvings, and literature.

One of the sitting rooms at Kawai Kanjiro’s house. Many items in his house were designed and created by Kawai.
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

In recognition of the profound impact that Kawai had on Japanese cultural life, the Japanese government sought to bestow on him the highly prestigious distinction as an Intangible Cultural Property of Japan –more popularly known as a Living National Treasure- and the Order of Culture Medal. But Kawai was not interested with such awards and turned them down. He also declined to be nominated to join the Japan Art Academy, which is the country’s most prestigious artistic organization.

Multi-chambered climbing kiln behind Kawai Kanjiro’s house that he inherited from Kiyomizu Rokubei V
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

While Kawai does not appear to have given any public explanation as to why he politely but firmly refused these accolades, I wonder if this was because he wanted to remain as a maker empowered by his work, rather than as an artist qualified by his fame. We often lose our ability to see when fame gets in the way. For Kawai, who said that “to see my new self, so I work”, he found joy in continuing to self-explore through the things that he could bring to life. This is obvious from the sheer volume of output that he accomplished during his lifetime.

Kawai also paid particular attention to how he lived his daily life, because he believed that “lifestyle is work, work is lifestyle”. In 1937, he designed his own house that was modeled after classic Japanese rural cottages from the Hida-Takayama area, and he called upon his own family of carpenters from Shimane to build it.

The hearth at Kawai Kanjiro’s house that welcomes guests at the entrance.
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

This house was Kawai’s residence, pottery studio and gallery with a climbing kiln in the back. But more importantly, it was a place that he filled with his favorite objects. Kawai said that, “one buys things, one buys oneself.” What we choose to acquire and surround ourselves with is a reflection of who we are. It is a simple but powerful observation that can be easily lost in today’s materialistic world. To this day, visitors are reminded of the pleasures of the humble and often forgotten everyday items that Kawai carefully selected for his home.

To me, the most moving aspect of visiting Kawai’s home was the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the space. Beyond the objects, the place was filled with friendliness that stemmed from his generosity of spirit and open mind.

A wood carving of a dog that functions as an armrest made by Kawai from recycled wood when the house was built in 1937. It is hollow on the inside and Kawai stored his favorite dried persimmons and candy inside and kept it at his side through his life.

Sagi Tamae, the granddaughter of Kawai, wrote about an episode in Kawai’s life in the commemorative issue of Honoho Geijutsu magazine in 2010 that offers an insight into who he was as a person. The story was about what happened when one of Kawai’s housekeepers broke his drying pots when she was trying to take in laundry that was on the pole in the garden of the house.

The round stone in Kawai’s garden was a collective gift from his friends in Shimane. They wanted to give him a stone lantern for his newly built house but Kawai asked for a round stone instead. Kawai loved to move the stone around the garden and enjoy it in different places.
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

Tamae wrote that Kawai “ran out from his studio and quickly picked up the broken pieces in his apron and told the housekeeper, “don’t worry, don’t worry, just go inside. I can always make more.” Kanjiro was the type of person who worried more about the feelings of the housekeeper than the pots. He chose to become a potter and participate in the Mingei movement as he obviously loved ‘things’ but ultimately he was not fixated about any of them. To Kanjiro, what cannot be seen was far more important then what was visible.”

Two chairs and a table at Kawai Kanjiro’s House. The chairs were designed by Kawai and the table is a flipped mortar for pounding rice mochi that was a gift from Kawakatsu Kenichi, who was a lifelong close friend and fan of Kawai. Kawakatsu secretly entered Kawai’s ceramic pieces for the 1937 exposition in Paris and 1957 triennale in Milan and they won the grand prizes in both events. Over 400 pieces of Kawai’s work collected by Kawakatsu were donated to The National Museum of Modern Art in Kyoto.
(Photo by Tomoko Matsubayashi)

A visit to Kawai’s house is unlike a trip to a typical museum where ‘things’ are lined up to be admired. Kawai’s abode is a place to be inspired by the delightful life of an artist who never stopped exploring his inner self.

Through his home that he left behind, Kawai continues to share ideas that may enrich our own lives and help us to discover ourselves. All we need is a childlike curiosity and an open mind to be inspired. Kawai affectionately called this amazing human ability “to be surprised by the act of being surprised” and acknowledged its utmost importance throughout his long and productive life.

—>> Visit photographer Tomoko Matsubayashi’s website to see more photos of Kawai Kanjiro’s house in Kyoto.

Impeccable Workmanship: The Refined Nabeshima Pottery of Imaizumi Imaemon

June 27, 2014Ceramics Arita Travels

Ceramics offer a fascinating window into Japan’s turbulent past and Nabeshima pottery is a captivating example of how history and pottery comes together. The fortunes of this elegant and noble style of ceramics mirror the ups and downs of Japanese history over the past four centuries.

Nabeshima ceramics originated from Arita in Saga Prefecture on Kyushu around the time when porcelain ware was first produced in Japan by Korean potters. The potters were brought to the country after the invasion of Korea by warlord Toyotomi Hideyoshi around 400 years ago. It is also believed that Chinese ceramics traders from Imari, not too far from Arita, introduced the overglaze enamel technique to this region during this period.

Iro-Nabeshima plate from the 18th century. Its bold design possesses a unique sense of clarity and pride unlike any other Japanese ceramics. This one from the Tokyo National Museum depicts the “flower raft”, a Japanese term that describes the fallen petals of cherry blossoms floating on the river surface like rafts. (Photo by Studio Kotokoto)

The Nabeshima kiln was established in the middle of the 17^th Century as the feudal kiln of the local Nabeshima clan, who brought together the best craftsmen in the region to produce high quality porcelain tableware.

Decorated in blue-on-white underglaze, or multi-colored overglaze enamel (known as Iro-Nabeshima) or celadon, Nabeshima ceramics were only produced as gifts for the ruling shogun family and feudal lords during the Edo period (1603-1867). As a consequence of this tightly held circulation within the privileged elite, Nabeshima pottery was largely unknown to the general population until Shogunate rule ended with the Meiji Restoration in 1868.

The brilliance of the enamel colors can be seen in this close-up of Iro-Nabeshima from the 17th-18th centuries. This plate from the Tokyo National Museum depicts Chinese flowers. In traditional Iro-Nabeshima, only three enamel colors of red, green and yellow are used besides cobalt underglaze. (A few rare pieces used black and gold) In this bold design, the center part is left white in the shape of a cherry blossom. (Photo by Studio Kotokoto)

My preference for ceramics styles that possess the essence of uncalculated spontaneity rather than precision and perfection meant that I initially found the meticulous beauty of Nabeshima rigid and difficult to appreciate. But my perspective changed during a visit to the Tokyo National Museum when I saw an Iro-Nabeshima plate with Flower and Raft design.

Although the plate was made in the 18^th century, the enamel colors of red, green and yellow were so bright and vivid against the beautiful cobalt underglaze. It almost seemed like the air surrounding the plate was a little clearer than the rest of the museum –and I swear I was not inhaling any questionable substances at the time! The plate’s bold design possessed a unique sense of clarity and pride unlike any other ceramics work that I have seen.

So I was excited when the opportunity arose in the spring of 2013 to visit the Imaizumi Imaemon Kiln in Arita, which is carrying on the tradition of the making of Nabeshima ceramics.

Imaizumi Imaemon kiln in Arita is the oldest building in the area dating back to 1830. The roof tiles along the second floor are stained red from the enamel used by artisans that worked on the second floor. (Photo by Studio Kotokoto)

The Imaizumi Imaemon family has a long and illustrious history that dates back to the Edo period when it was first commissioned as the Nabeshima’s official overglaze enamel artisan (or Akae-shi). For over 200 years, the family enjoyed the financial support of successive feudal lords. However, when the feudal fief system was replaced with the prefectural administrative system in the Meiji era, the Nabeshima kiln collapsed with the ending of shogunate largesse.

Slump molds used by the Imaizumi Imaemon Kiln. (Photo by Studio Kotokoto)

The 10^th generation master painter Imaemon, who was the family patriarch during this crisis, decided to do whatever was necessary to preserve the technique for the production of Iro-Nabeshima. From scratch, the family had to painstakingly learn forming and firing techniques, which took many years and only began to bear fruit in the early 20^th Century under the 12^th generation Imaemon. For this enormous accomplishment, the Imaemon kiln was recognized as an important intangible cultural asset by the Japanese government in 1971.

A craftsman forming a porcelain bowl by trimming it into shape. Each piece is weighed to an exacting thickness. (Photo by Studio Kotokoto)

During my visit to the kiln, which is located in the Akae-machi (overglaze town) district of Arita, I saw a craftsman trimming a porcelain bowl and carefully measuring it to its required exact weight on a scale. The kiln was loaded with numerous saggars that encased the pieces to protect them from ashes of pine wood used for firing.

Each piece is fired inside a saggar in a traditional kiln fired using pine wood. (Photo by Studio Kotokoto)

One noticeable sight was the piles of rejected bisque wares, many of which were discarded for the slightest hints of flaws. It was clear that precision and design perfection is of utmost importance, which is a rare quality in Japanese pottery kilns that tend to focus on extemporaneity and simplicity.

Imaemon’s formulas for glazes and their application techniques are still closely-held secrets that are handed down to only a single son of each generation who takes over the name of “Imaizumi Imaemon”.

Large piles of rejected porcelain plates with minor imperfections. (Photo by Studio Kotokoto)

The kiln today produces two distinct lines of Iro-Nabeshima, the first of which are created in line with the traditional style of Iro-Nabeshima by over 30 craftsmen. The second line is of a modern Iro-Nabeshima created by the current 14^th generation Imaizumi Imaemon.

If the opportunity arises, I would highly recommend a visit to the Imaemon museum or shop in Arita. They also have a satellite shop in Tokyo. Imaemon’s work is unequivocally stunning, with striking designs, pristine lines, and clever use of the white spaces of natural porcelain. Even if the pricing may seem out of reach for many, including myself, it is still a sheer delight to be able to see this fine work and to pick out a favorite piece you would have liked to take home.

* “Nabeshima” by Motosuke Imaizumi (Tokyo; Kodansha International, 1981) was used as a reference for this blog post.

The Ancient Pottery Town of Tajimi Comes Alive with its Annual Spring Ceramics Festival

May 27, 2014Ceramics Tajimi Travels

Japan has a historically rich and vibrant ceramics scene, but much of it is local and barely known beyond its shores. Stepping foot into this other world requires going to the pottery towns and other out-of-the-way places deep in Japan’s interior, which is what we at Studio Kotokoto find especially intriguing and rewarding.

This past spring, I visited the annual ceramics festival in Tajimi in Gifu Prefecture. It was my first visit to a ceramics festival being held in the hometown of Mino pottery, which is renowned for the green copper glazed Oribe and soft white glazed Shino style wares.

Narumi Oribe plate by a student from Tajimi Technical High School. It tastefully represents the traditional Narumi style, which is made using two clay bodies: white clay with green glaze, and red clay with white slip and vivid geometric designs.

Mino pottery dates back to the 7^th and 8^th centuries with the production of Sue ware (or Sueki). The remains of ancient kilns that produced these ceramics can still be found in the neighboring town of Kakamigahara. This region became well known in the 16^th century for its Oribe ware, named after tea master and warrior Furuta Oribe who was a Mino native.

Capitalizing on its fame as a center of aesthetic pottery, Tajimi and the surrounding area of Touno have risen to become the largest ceramics-producing region in the country. Around half of Japan’s ceramics and tiles currently come from this area.

The banks of Toki river that runs through the town of Tajimi are adorned with tile mosaics.
Tajimi is the biggest producer of ceramic tiles in Japan.

As Tajimi is only a short 30-minute ride by fast train to the north of Nagoya, the largest city in Chubu region, it has also become a sprawling commuter town. Overseas, Tajimi is perhaps best known for its International Ceramics Festival, which is a triennial event that features a world-class ceramics competition funded by numerous local government organizations and ceramics associations.

The show that I went to see, though, was a local event that Tajimi hosts annually. When I got off the train at JR Tajimi station on a bright spring morning, there were people handing out detailed maps and information about the ceramics festival and local attractions. The atmosphere was festive with all sorts of events taking place. There were wheel-throwing pottery demonstrations, performances by local school orchestras, and plenty of entertainment for families with small children.

The entrance to the arcade hosting Tajimi Creator’s Market.

My main purpose for visiting Tajimi was to see the Tajimi Creator’s Market, a small arcade of stalls organized by graduates of two local pottery schools in Tajimi called Ishoken and Tajimi Technical High School. This market was started 5 years ago as a venue to connect fledging potters working in the Touno area with end users.

I arrived in the early morning hoping to beat the crowd in order to see the best selection of work on offer and to meet many of the talented young potters on display. There were around 50 potters showing their work in the Tajimi Creator’s Market, but even though I got there early, the arcade was already quickly filling up with people. According to one potter, the number of visitors that their event attracts has been growing every year. Nonetheless, I had a very rewarding time in finding an exciting young potter that we look forward to introducing on Studio Kotokoto in the near future.

A stall selling Oribe style pottery on Oribe street, the main thoroughfare of the festival.

After visiting the Creator’s Market, I made my way to Oribe Street, which is the main artery for the ceramics festival. The most significant difference between the Tajimi ceramics festival and the various craft fairs that I have visited elsewhere in Japan is that this festival hosts stalls operated by local stores selling Minoyaki at discounted prices. So if you know what you are looking for, this is a great opportunity to acquire beautiful Mino pottery at affordable prices.

Tajimi Oribe street lined with vendors selling pottery.

On my way back to the train station, I came across a pottery stall run by several current students of Tajimi Technical High School who were helping to raise funds for their school. The pieces were so well made and beautiful that I picked up a piece of Oribe ware to take home.

Even the manhole covers of Tajimi feature ceramics. It is clear that Tajimi considers its ceramics heritage as an important part of its identity.

As I continued my walk back to the station, I thought about how difficult it must be for the budding potters that I came across at the beginning of their careers to be able to make a living in our fast-paced world. But these young artists residing in and around Tajimi have an important advantage. The Tajimi show was put together by the local community –from the local government to schools and businesses- to promote and support the local craft industry. There are few other places that I know of that goes to such great lengths to aid its ceramic artists.

After 13 centuries, the old pottery town of Tajimi continues to be a nurturing and inspirational starting place for future aspiring potters.

Visiting Hanako Nakazato in Karatsu

August 28, 2013Hanako Nakazato Ceramics Karatsu Travels

Ceramics by Hanako Nakazato in our shop ->

Japanese potter Hanako Nakazato is a tour de force of creativity and productivity. I had the privilege of glimpsing this at first hand when I visited her Japanese studio far away in Karatsu, Saga Prefecture in Kyushu this past spring. It took a long train ride to get there, but was a journey to savor and understand how a potter’s life requires not only talent but discipline, hard work, and –in Hanako’s case- a love of food and cooking.

Japanese potter Hanako Nakazato at her studio in Karatsu, Spring 2013

Following an early morning start in Kyoto and several changes on the way, the train finally pulled into JR Karatsu station shortly after lunch. After the long ride, I was delighted to be met by the familiar face of photographer-cum-writer Prairie Stuart-Wolff, Hanako’s partner and business manager for monohanako. The two travel between Maine and Kyushu every year.

Overlooking Hanako Nakazato’s studio in Karatsu

Hanako’s studio in Karatsu stands on a lush green hillside in Mirukashi, about two miles from the train station. When I arrived at the studio, Hanako was working at her wheel making bowls. She got up to greet me, beaming with a friendly smile and gestured a “hug” from a few feet away saying “I have clay all over me”. I did not want to interrupt her work and at my request she went back on the wheel. I watched for a while as she whipped out bowl after bowl, amazed at how similar they are in shape and size, even though she never measured them.

Work by Hanako Nakazato displayed in her showroom in Karatsu.

As Hanako worked, I looked around the clean and spacious studio that was divided into three sections. There was a showroom for guests to view and purchase her work. A second section was the kiln and glazing room where bisque and glazed pieces are stored next to the gas kiln. The last section was the wheel room where she was busy throwing her pottery.

Hanako’s gas kiln filled to the brim with bisque fired pots

The sliding door to the wheel room had a large blackboard that was covered with diagrams, numbers, and glaze types. Hanako carefully keeps track of the progress in the production of her wares by charting them on this board. Its an ingenious way of visually managing the production schedule that enables this prolific potter to put together a solo show almost every month during her stay in Japan. I even managed to visit her annual solo show at Manyodo in Ginza, Tokyo in May.

Production schedule charted on the blackboard

Watching Hanako work on the wheel was meditative. When I commented that it must be enjoyable to be able to throw with such rhythmic flow, Hanako laughed and replied that, “People might think that it must be fun to become a potter and throw pots on the wheel, but this is not the whole story”.

She explained that less than 20 percent of her day is spent on the wheel and that the rest of her workday is spent cleaning the studio and work equipment, loading and unloading the kiln, mixing and testing glazes, and preparing the clay. Hanako said that a three-year apprenticeship under her father and internationally famous potter, Nakazato Takashi of Ryutagama Kiln, had instilled into her the important habit of waking up early everyday to work, clean, and carry out other chores. Maintaining this discipline was indispensable to the running of a successful pottery studio.

Hanako wedging clay. Much of a potter’s day is spent doing chores like cleaning the studio and preparing clay

Long and narrow boards on the racks in the studio were loaded with pots that were drying. These boards are easily over 5 feet long and they appear almost impossible to carry without dropping the pieces on top. Hanako said that it was just like the balancing pole that tightrope performers use to help them balance. She noted that, “the longer the board, the easier it is to balance on the shoulder with one hand”.

Bowls on a long drying board are placed into a pottery closet or muro. Freshly thrown pots are dried slowly in here to prevent them from warping and cracking.

On days when Hanako can work uninterrupted on her wheel, she can throw over a hundred pots in a day. On my visit, Hanako had to answer many phone calls, tend to visitors such as myself, and send a pugmill to repair. She finally wrapped up her work at 5 p.m. after throwing numerous bowls.

Hanako cooking dinner at her home above her studio in Karatsu

In the evening, Hanako and Prairie cooked a delicious 7-course meal using Karatsu’s seasonal ingredients, each served on monohanako tableware. They put great care into preparing each dish and it was clear that they enjoyed cooking. As the famous Japanese ceramist and gourmet Rosanjin once said, “tableware for cooking is the equivalent of clothing for people.” He meant that the vessels that the food is served on is as important as the clothes that people wear and that people that are interested in food are inevitably interested in the wares they are served on. Consequently, many potters –of which Hanako is definitely a prime example- are excellent cooks and it was a real treat to be a guest at their dinner table.

Salted sea urchin served on monohanako ware

Early next morning, Hanako was back in her studio finishing up the plates that she had thrown in the past few days on the wheel. She said she was in full work mode, firing work for shows that will be taking place after she was to depart for Maine in a few weeks time. I told her that her many fans in the U.S. were eagerly waiting her return. As we spoke, I realized that I was associating Hanako’s return with the changing of the seasons, just like a birder in anticipation of the annual migration.

Hanako finishing the edges of cut petal plates

Hanako worked until the late morning, and then we all left for a quick tour of Karatsu and lunch before I caught the bus to Hakata in the afternoon to start my long trek back to Tokyo. I was very pleased that I got to see a day in the life of this hard working potter, who is a rising star of the pottery scene in Japan and the U.S. While I discovered that being a potter might not be as idyllic and glamorous as it might appear, I am grateful that Hanako chose it as her profession. Her creativity has certainly brought style and beauty into our daily lives through the wares that we use to nourish our body and soul.