Tokoname clay teapots by Yamada Yutaro in our shop->
Tea consumption goes up 5 fold during the winter in my house. Hot tea for warmth is only part of the reason, because I’m also in pursuit of the delicious steam during these coldest months of the year.
New Tokoname teapots by Yamada Yutaro for your tea and steam in Entoten shop today.
Urushi by Hashizume Yasuo and Reiko in our shop ->
I have always been enamored by negoro-nuri. It is a much sought-after antique urushiware that was originally produced by the monks from Negoro-ji temple in Wakayama prefecture beginning in the 12th Century. In negoro-nuri, the monks made their own utensils by applying many layers of black urushi onto the wood base that was followed by a top-coat of red urushi. The vermillion color has a distinctive depth because of the dark layers underneath, and as the surface becomes polished with use, the black is gradually revealed. It is a unique kind of ‘aged-dignification’ that the Japanese have grown to admire in their crafts.
This January just before the pandemic closed down the world, I visited urushi artisans Hashizume Yasuo and his daughter Reiko in the town of Kuroe in Wakayama prefecture. Kuroe is known for the local Kishu urushiware that began during the Muromachi period (1336 to 1573) as a center of shibujiwan -a simple wooden bowl coated with persimmon tannin. A key reason behind Kuroe’s emergence as a thriving urushiware center was its access to an abundant local supply of wood.
Kishu remains as one of the three largest lacquerware producing areas in Japan, the others being Aizu in Fukushima prefecture and Yamanaka/Wajima in Ishikawa prefecture. The Hashizume family has been working with urushi for 4 generations spanning over 140 years.
The father, Yasuo-san, specializes in urushi work in splendid maki-e, and also in negoro-nuri. Maki-e is an elaborate and meticulous technique for applying designs onto the urushi surface. Designs are made with precious materials like powdered gold and silver, or inlaid with a variety of decorations like mother-of-pearl and even eggshells. He has won numerous awards for his work during his career covering over 6 decades.
Reiko has also been working with urushi for over 20 years. After studying at Tsukuba University of Art and Design, she worked as a designer for several years in Tokyo before returning to Kuroe. “I didn’t plan on making urushi my lifework,” she said, “but when I came back to Kuroe, I wanted to work with it since this is the perfect place to do so.”
For tea utensils, many traditional urushi artisans stick to conventional motifs that are easy to sell by often copying or referencing old designs, but Reiko creates maki-e with original contemporary designs with an eye for surprising motifs. When I asked why she chose humble chickweed and asters as subjects for the tea containers, she said “I often see chickweed and asters growing around me, so I wanted to draw them.” I found her pure artistic motivation for choosing her subject very refreshing and persuasive.
At the studio, Yasuo-san showed me many different types of brushes that he uses, including a wide hake brush that is made from bound human hair and wood. Like a pencil, when the bristle gets frayed on the brush, the wood can be cut to reveal fresh bristle underneath. “The brush is one of the most important tools for making urushiware,” he pointed out. All the brushes were kept in beautiful condition, which is a reflection of the care that he puts into his work.
Urushi is a resin extracted from toxicodendron vernicifluum trees that originally came from China, and it has similar allergenic properties as poison oak and poison ivy. But when urushi hardens, it becomes so strong that it resists heat and also acids and alkalis. Urushi artifacts can be found from the Jomon period over 9,000 years ago, which shows how far back they go.
But out of many traditional crafts that exist in Japan, daily wares with natural urushi disappeared most rapidly from homes in the last few decades. “After the Second World War, many local people converted to making ‘gosei shikki (synthetic lacquerware)’ which is not urushi but synthesized cashew lacquer or plastic”, Reiko explained as we strolled the streets of Kuroe.
Recent arrival of cheap imported melamine wares further impacted the industry, and because many shops carry a mix of real urushi and other lacquer using different kinds of bases including wood, engineered wood, or plastic, what a ‘lacquerware’ is made of is very unclear and confusing. I once purchased a wood bowl coated with plastic because the shop attendant told me it was ‘shikki’ which means ‘lacquerware.’ I don’t think he was trying to deceive me, but he simply did not know. I understand that there is a place for plastic in this world, but since its widespread use is now causing so many environmental problems, I try not to purchase them if I can.
“How can you tell the difference between plastic and real urushi?” I asked Reiko, “It is very hard to tell the difference. Almost impossible at first glance”, she replied.
Sadly, the word ‘shikki,’ has become such a confusing terminology. If you watch a Ted talk by Murose Kazumi, the Japanese Living National Treasure of urushi art, you will further understand this sentiment.
Over the years, Japan has almost lost all of its capacity to produce its own urushi and today a staggering 97% of natural urushi used in Japan is imported from China.
As we strolled the sleepy town, I imagined how bustling it was at the height of the urushi boom with carts piled with wares being transported down to the river. “It must be so green and beautiful in the summer” I said. “Yes, it gets so hot and humid!” Reiko exclaimed.
How perfect then that urushi, a natural resin that hardens only when there is sufficient humidity and the temperature is above a certain level, flourished in Japan. But it is unfortunate that the urushi culture has declined so much over the years.
An announcement from the Japanese Agency for Cultural Affairs that it would only allow use of domestically produced urushi for the restoration of buildings designated as national treasures from 2018 caused a severe price hike and shortage of domestic urushi for artists like the Hashizumes. To keep the items affordable while maintaining their quality, their urushi items are created by using high-quality urushi from China for the base coats, then using Japanese urushi on top layers. “Japanese urushi‘s color is more transparent and its gloss is very beautiful,” Reiko observed. Under current circumstances though, they cannot acquire enough to make their work using only Japanese urushi.
It will take a considerable amount of time to increase urushi production back to a sufficient level to bring down the price of urushi items for daily use. But an important first step is for people to re-appreciate natural urushi in the items they use everyday, and to become aware of the differences with other lacquerware. Natural urushi ages beautifully, and the wares can be re-coated to be used over many years.
In purchasing urushi work, it is important to nurture connections with shops or craftspeople with integrity, so that the correct information is conveyed. I’m encouraged to see the activities of non-profits like Urushinext, whose mission is to increase the local production of urushi and promote every aspect of this craft to the outside world. The efforts to increase domestic production is not about the differences in the quality of imported vs. domestic urushi as such, but more about preserving the Japanese urushi crafts culture as a whole.
Reiko and I had lunch at a local coffee shop started by a young couple in a converted old urushi factory building. We then visited Jokokuji Temple where Yasuo san created brilliant maki-e tiles to be installed onto the ceiling over a 4-year period. After admiring them for a while sitting on the tatami floor, we strolled down the hill. Then I caught a taxi and hopped on the train that took me back to the bustling city of Osaka, thinking about the future of urushi along the way.
Tokoname Kyusu by Yamada Yutaro in Our Shop August 3rd->
I am far from alone in wrongly anticipating that the Covid pandemic by now would be under control and I would be planning a summer trip somewhere. But with all the indices here in the U.S. going in the wrong direction, we are stuck at home for the foreseeable future.
One good piece of news arrived recently in the form of a box from Japan that I had shipped months ago early in the pandemic but that got stuck in the Japanese postal system. In the box were Kyusu tea pots by Yamada Yutaro that I had hoped to release in my online shop before the arrival of this year’s new Japanese tea crop in June.
That June date has long past and I read in the news that the long rainy season that tormented Japan this year is also finally over. The humid hot summer has officially started and this is also the beginning of the toughest work environment for many craftspeople in Japan. I remember Yutaro san telling me that in the summer, he sleeps during the day and works at night because the heat in his studio reaches over 100 degrees every day. He is constantly battling with mosquitoes because he has many containers of standing water for making clays lying around in the studio.
When I reported the good news of his pots’ delivery, Yutaro san said, “I’m glad they arrived safely. I hope that we can encourage people to have tea and enjoy using tea wares even more often since we’re all staying at home.” I chuckled because I’ve never heard of anyone as young as him (only 28 years old) talk about making tea at home.
In a stressful time, tea is always a good idea, and I’m happy to be able to share Yutaro san’s passion and thoughtful work during this time. I drink more tea now than ever, because tea time has become an important ritual for both my husband and I to take a break from work at home. So put on the kettle and join me and Yutaro san for tea.
Ceramics by Mike Martino in our shop ->
As April comes to an end in San Diego, the parks and beaches have begun to gradually reopen. This marks the beginning of what will be a very long and uncertain journey to ending our physical distancing that began what seems a lifetime ago in mid-March. But the start of Phase One is an opportune reason to celebrate, and I’m delighted to be able to do this with new ceramic work by Mike Martino from Karatsu, Japan.
In this latest batch, I requested mostly pieces with brushwork that include lovely shrimps, which over the years have become Mike’s signature symbol. I find his lovely rhythmical brush strokes very comforting and meditative to follow with my eyes and I hope you do too.
I would like in particular to introduce one of Mike’s pieces that seem to capture our current state of being quite nicely. It is a ekaratsu (painted karatsu) bowl that has the calligraphy letters “kochu nichi getsu nagashi (壺中日月長)” written on it. The literal translation of this Zen word is “the sun and the moon shine eternally inside a jar.”
This phrase was derived from an old Chinese anecdote of an elderly medicine vendor who always disappeared into a jar hanging in the front of his shop after the day’s work. Curious about where the old man was going every night, a local official befriended him and was able to get invited into the pot with him. Inside, the official found a vast palace with a large garden where the old man entertained the official with food and drink. After what seemed to be a whole day, the official returned to the real world to find out that decades had passed. The old medicine vender was an immortal ascetic.
In Buddhist-speak, this may be interpreted as “the realm of enlightenment transcends time.” But I simply interpret this as “time is what you make of it” and unfortunately I fell out of making anything of it for a while during the seemingly unending lockdown. This was a sharp reminder that I was spending way too much time endlessly reading the dark news concerning the pandemic on my phone screen and feeling anxious. But I’m now finally crawling back into the jar.
Lastly, I’d like to add that a lot of time was squandered while I stared at Mike’s bowl trying to figure out which part of the calligraphy referred to the jar (壺), inside (中), sun (日), moon(月), and long (長), only to find that Mike wrote the whole Zen phrase in romanized Japanese. So now you can pronounce a sophisticated Zen saying in Japanese, and isn’t this a highly productive way of using your time?
Mike Martino is currently having an online sale of his work on his website in Japan 4/29-5/6/2020
(click here to visit his website).
This past February, potter Bill Geisinger drove me to the rustic and eclectic town of Guerneville along the Russian river in Sonoma County in Northern California. During our car ride there, Bill related to me the logging history of Guerneville, the Bohemian Club, and its controversial grove retreat nearby, and soon, I found myself surrounded by the tall magnificent trees inside the Armstrong Redwoods State Natural Reserve.
As a transplant generation Xer, I had not heard of Pond Farm and Marguerite Wildenhain until Bill sent me a Wikipedia link about the farm prior to my visit. Upon reading it, I was excited to find out about this post-Second World War Californian colony for artists and to discover more about Marguerite, who was its resident artist and a Bauhaus-trained master potter.
Marguerite Wildenhain (1896-1985) was an American ceramic artist and educator. She was born in Lyon, France to a father of German descent and an English mother. Marguerite trained at the legendary Bauhaus school in Weimar, Germany from 1919 for 6 years under master potter Max Krehan and sculptor Gerhard Marcks. She emigrated to the U.S. to escape the Nazis with the help of American architect Gordon Herr and his wife Jane who wanted to establish an artist community in California.
(Click here to watch footage of Marguerite Wildenhain by Rollie Younger on YouTube)
Bill and I arrived early to stroll in the splendid redwood forest. As we walked, Bill said that he had wanted to bring me here because he thought Pond Farm would be a source of inspiration. He shared the story about his visit with Marguerite in the 1970s at the urging of his teacher James Lovera to learn how to make handles from her. Bill always surprises me with never-heard-of-before episodes like this in his life. After hearing Bill’s story, I complained that he rarely makes pots with handles these days, to which he laughed and agreed with my observation.
Following our stroll, we visited Pond Farm with Michele Luna, the Executive Director of Stewards of the Coast and Redwoods, who kindly took the time to show us the compound. The Stewards are the managing member of a partnership for the preservation and revitalization of Pond Farm.
“The barn workshop was where Marguerite taught her two-month summer classes every year, and the rest of the year she worked and lived alone in that small cabin,” Michele explained, as she pointed to a house that was closed for viewing due to its dilapidated state. There was also a guesthouse on the compound that Marguerite had built for her teacher from her Bauhaus days, Gerhard Marcks, for his visit to the farm in the 1950s. The guesthouse was recently renovated and is used to host resident artists in the summer.
As I stepped into Marguerite’s barn pottery workshop, I immediately felt I was in a familiar place: a studio built upon the artist’s complete devotion to the craft. Inside the barn, I observed the design of the studio and contemplated the system that Marguerite had developed for teaching to countless students each summer from 1949 to 1980.
In the now empty workshop, models of the pottery forms that students learned from Marguerite were still in place. I wondered how closely the classroom was designed to the legendary Bauhaus school where Marguerite had trained under master potters for up to 9 hours each day, 6 days a week, year after year.
After returning from Northern California, I borrowed “The Invisible Core: A Potter’s Life and Thoughts,” written by Marguerite from my local library. She states in the book that many of the students that came to her summer school were college and high school teachers. She writes perceptively that at Pond Farm, “we take great pains in teaching the basic and fundamental elements that go into making a good piece of pottery […] More than that: We have a stimulating exchange of ideas and often really excellent and exciting discussions about art, integrity, human values, life, pots, what it all means, and how they are related, how all these have to fuse in you to one total concept and to form.”
At Pond Farm, I only saw a small kiln inside the barn. So I asked Michele where all of the pots were fired because Marguerite accepted up to 25 students at a time for her summer workshops. Michele explained that none of the work by the students were fired. I was very surprised to hear this because I could not believe that the students were content just to learn how to make pots and not finish making them.
But after reading Marguerite’s book, I realized that what she taught, and what the students came from all over the country to learn, was not just about how to make pots but also what Marguerite called “the essential requirements that all valuable work need.” These essential requirements consisted of “work, time, patience, effort, and intense devotion and faith in the validity of this purpose.” She called it the “discipline not to betray the requirements of art.”
I told Bill that I found Marguerite’s words compelling and insightful. He agreed and said that “her book was my bible in the 70s.” Over the years, I’ve met and studied many highly regarded artists, and while they all excelled at their craft, most could only teach a very small number of apprentices in their lifetime, if at all. And even with the best of these artists, master-to-apprentice training can be disorganized and mystifying.
Marguerite’s achievements stand out because she was committed to teaching generations of aspiring artists the essential way of life as an artist, and honing of the necessary skills through relentless training like that of apprenticeships. Her teaching took place in a systematic and enlightening environment. If this method originated from the Bauhaus school, it only existed for a handful of years, but Marguerite kept Pond Farm going single-handedly for over 30 years, so her impact cannot be overstated. Her former students, called Pond Farmers, include the likes of Dean Schwarz of South Bear School, and Professor Dorothy Bearnson of University of Utah.
I hope that this blog post will inspire you to learn more about the work of this extraordinary but largely forgotten American master potter and teacher. Marguerite sums up her life’s work in a short statement in her book:
“My life as a potter has taught me to know the short-lived values of mode and fashion trends, of prizes and “success.” As fleeting as clouds are publicity, fame and limelight, but the good pot will endure through the centuries because of its integrity, its sound and pure purpose, its original beauty, and especially because it is the indivisible, incorruptible, and complete expression of a human being.”
I am not a potter, but wished that I could have met Marguerite to ask about her thoughts on fostering an enduring culture of crafts. In this uncertain time of social distancing with the coronavirus crisis, I found her words comforting and reassuring about my work at Entoten.
Finally, if you can, please help preserve Pond Farm, an important historic site of California’s Armstrong Redwood State Natural Reserve, by visiting the redwood forest, becoming a member, and/or donating to the Stewards of the Coast and Redwoods.
Browse more images of pots made by Marguerite Wildenhain in the Forrest L. Merrill collection
Forrest L. Merrill Collection Website: A History of Pond Farm in Pictures
Blown glasswork by Floresta Fabrica in our shop ->
When people think of crafts from Japan, glassware is probably not the first thing that comes to mind. But even though the craft has a relatively short history in Japan, I personally think Japan boasts many glass makers who create exceptional work, both sculpturally and functionally.
An emerging example of this Japanese glasswork excellence is Floresta Fabrica, a studio of husband and wife glass blowing duo of Suzuki Tsutomu and Ai, based in Mori town of Hamamatsu city in Shizuoka Prefecture. ‘Floresta Fabrica’ is Portuguese for ‘forest factory,’ because Tsutomu and Ai wanted to honor the Portuguese who brought glass blowing techniques to Japan in the 18th century. ‘Forest’ refers to their hometown of ‘Mori’, which means ‘forest’ in Japanese. They established their gallery and residence inside an old Japanese house in 2016.
Tsutomu and Ai’s hand-formed glass vessels have very pleasing and slightly nostalgic forms and textures. “We thoroughly study the forms so that they are pleasing to look at and are comfortable to use” Ai explained. “We try to have the perspective of the user when we design the vessels.”
They are particular about forming each piece by only using hand tools because they believe that is the best way to convey the beauty of mouth-blown glass. For textured pieces, the mold is only used in the beginning to add the texture but shaping is done with hand tools. Ai said that mastering the use of tools is the most difficult process of glass blowing, and that she sometimes just wants to use her hands, but laughed that “would not end well.”
The batch, which refers to the raw material for the glass, is also very carefully selected for the transparency of the glasses. “We use batches from Sweden because they are very transparent, and we melt the materials carefully so that very few impurities get mixed up.” Any impurities will affect the clarity of the glass.
Ai studied glass blowing at the Osaka University of Arts. She was among the first generation of students that studied in the newly established department. “It was a very good environment because they had the newest and top of the line equipment,” she recalls. Tsutomu was born into a family of ceramicists in Mori, which is well-known for its Moriyama ware. He learned glass-blowing at the Tokyo Glass-Art Institute, and worked several years in Tokyo. The couple decided to settle in Mori after they got married because they believed it was the ideal location for their studio.
Tsutomu and Ai recently became parents to a baby boy and are very happy to be able to raise him in the beautiful natural environment surrounding their house. “This location works well because people come to town to see the ceramics and they also stop by to see our glass work,” Tsutomu said. They dream that Mori will be known one day for both ceramics and glasswork.
And history is on their side. Moriyama ware has a history of about 100 years, a relatively short timespan for ceramics in Japan. Moriyama was started by Nakamura Hidekichi, a local man who was so impressed by the story of Seto’s potter Kato Kagemasa that he invited a Shitoro-ware potter to establish a kiln in Mori. These days Mori is a well-established pottery town that is home to four families of potters.
The final addition to the Entoten gallery in 2019 is Ontayaki, which is produced in the small village of Onta, in northern Oita prefecture, by 10 families that are the descendants of its founders dating back to 1705.
For this batch of work, I asked a good friend that I have known for over 30 years who is an expert on Japanese craft to curate the work. I was very excited because I had never seen an Ontayaki pedestal plate until he chose to include it in this collection.
Pedestal plates are not often made in Onta because these vessels warp easily with the application of slip. But they are perfect for serving food for the new year, so I decided to make my own kagamimochi, a traditional Japanese New Year’s decoration made of rice cakes, to present on this special plate. You can find out more about the process in story highlights on Instagram.
You can read more about the village of Onta here ->
Thank you for visiting my website and supporting Entoten for this past year! My best wishes for a happy and healthy New Year to you all.
Ceramics by Inoue Shigeru in our shop December 7th, 2019->
The beauty of the kohiki pots made by Japanese potter Inoue Shigeru are striking because he puts so much effort into acquiring and mixing two types of native clays for the dark base before the white slip is applied. The depth of the white is enhanced by the underlying dark clay.
To me, the negative aspects of common kohiki pots are that they are often thick and clunky because the layer of white slip is applied to the surface of the pots. They also chip more easily because of that extra layer. Inoue-san’s kohiki are very different though. They are light with lovely crisp rims and do not chip easily because of the fine nature of the base clay.
I would like to warn first time kohiki owners though that because kohiki have an extra layer of white clay between the glaze and base, they are vulnerable to spotting and staining, especially when you first start using the ware. A Chanoyu practitioner called this spotting of kohiki as “blossoming”, which I thought was a poetic way to describe what was happening. Over time with use, the spotting will stop and the ware will season. So if you are looking for a pristine white pot, kohiki pots are not for you. But if you are willing to nurture a pot, do give them a try.
As a thank you for all your support during 2019, I will offer sets of beautiful kohiki pots by Inoue Shigeru with free shipping within the U.S. for sale this Saturday. I hope that you will use this opportunity to grow your own kohiki.
Kata-e-zome by Yamauchi Takeshi in our shop ->
Entoten is over the moon to be able to introduce a collection of work by renowned Japanese textile designer Yamauchi Takeshi, who has been designing and dyeing textiles for over 60 years in his studio, Atelier Nuiya, in Hamatsu City in Shizuoka.
Yamauchi-san creates work featuring bold designs of his own creativity, and also motifs inspired by traditional patterns and family crests. His colorful ideas are turned into tenugui towels, cushion covers, furoshiki wrapping cloth, and door hanging noren.
Yamauchi-san’s work is known as ‘kata-e-zome’ (pronounced kata-eh-zomeh). You may have heard of the term ‘katazome,’ which means a traditional method of dyeing fabrics by brushing on a resist paste through a stencil.
‘Kata-e-zome’ was coined by the Japanese government to recognize the achievements of Yamauchi-san’s teacher of 6 years, the legendary textile designer Serizawa Keisuke (1895-1984), who was awarded a Living National Treasure title in 1956. Serizawa carried out all of the processes of traditional stencil dyeing himself and created a more pictorial style of textile design, which became known as kata-e-zome, meaning stencil-picture-dyeing.
Yamauchi-san, following in the footsteps of his revered teacher, still carries out all aspects of the production processes by himself. This involves highly labor-intensive work routines that includes creating the stencil, applying resist, and finally dyeing the textile. In a traditional katazome studio, the work is divided between several craftsmen.
Yamauchi-san’s daughter, Yoko-san, said that at this time her father does not take long breaks from his work because, “he worries that his muscles can’t keep up if he rests too much.” Yamauchi-san is 81 years old this year.
Despite his age, Yamauchi-san’s enthusiasm to his craft is limitless. He creates the small tenugui towels with many different designs even though the work involved in creating them is no less than making much larger and expensive pieces. “He wants to make sure that there are pieces of his work available for every budget,” Yoko-san said.
If you are ever in the Hamamatsu area of Shizuoka, I urge you to visit Yamauchi-san’s atelier, which is within walking distance of Hamamatsu Station. In addition, Yamauchi-san’s door hanging noren of red mount Fuji is on display at the Japan House in Los Angeles as part of the Japan 47 Artisans exhibition that runs until January 5, 2020 coordinated by D&Department.
Being in the company of Yamauchi-san’s textiles brings such joy and comfort to me, and a little part of Yamauchi-san’s creative world can be viewed in San Diego throughout November when his noren will be displayed at the Entoten Gallery. I hope that you will make time to come out to the gallery and see his special work in person.
My infatuation with Vietnamese pottery began with an unassuming plate that I saw at the National Museum in Tokyo. It was a white-slipped plate with a flower painted in the center coated with a milky glaze. The loosely drawn flower was joyful and full of life, and I was completely captivated by its charm. When I discovered that the plate was made in Vietnam sometime during the Ly and Tran Dynasty of the 13th and 14th centuries, I began to dream about visiting that haunting country someday.
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.
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.
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.
National Museum of Vietnamese History in Hanoi
It was by pure chance, which I interpret as destiny, to arrive at the National Museum of Vietnamese History just as an extensive exhibit opened of 13th-18th century ceramics excavated from ancient shipwrecks off the Vietnamese coast. This show started on January 18th 2019 and runs until May 18th 2019. So if you are in the area, I urge you to visit it.
About 500 pieces of pottery were on display, many of which were my favorite Vietnamese blue-and-white ceramics from the 15th century. In the current Japanese handmade pottery scene, there are many makers who have been heavily influenced by this era of Vietnamese pottery. It was interesting to observe that the current ceramics taste in Vietnam is moving away from these traditional painted styles, while in Japan the “Annam-style”, is having its moment.
As a modern day importer of handmade ceramics, I get cold sweat thinking about a big chunk of my orders sinking in the ocean on its way to the US. But my creative imagination exploded with these remnants from the shipwrecks because they offered a unique window into the aesthetics and lives of Vietnamese people from the distant past. After witnessing the tastes and skills built into these pots, I could understand why they were coveted by people from so many surrounding countries, and such great efforts were made to trade them overseas.
Ho Chi Minh
I had no pointers of where to go in Ho Chi Minh (Hồ Chí Minh) City for pottery, so I took the advice of Professor Matsui, one of Japan’s leading experts on Mingei who told me to “study objects from the past to understand Mingei and the beauty of handmade items for use.” Which meant that I hit the streets to look at antique stores.
Vintage Song Be Ware of Ho Chi Minh
I had never heard of “Song Be (Sông Bé)” ware, but a friend who lives in Ho Chi Minh said it was local, everyday use pottery, that was influenced by the French, who had ruled Vietnam between the 19th and 20th Centuries. Indeed I see similarities to the French Strasbourg and Quimper ceramics, along with some Chinese influence, but overall it is distinctly Vietnamese in spontaneity.
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.
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.
The shopkeeper told me that fishermen had found these items in the ocean. I was very surprised that precious 15th century pots were so casually sold! From the pile, I chose a covered container that had a beautiful painting of a flower, drawn in distinctively relaxed Vietnamese strokes together with a few jarlets. I later found similar pots online, with mention of them being “Hoi An hoard”. I’m not sure what this means, but want to find out more about them.
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.
