Tag: ceramics

New Kohiki Pots by Inoue Shigeru

Ceramics Inoue Shigeru Tokoname

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.

Kohiki yunomi by Inoue Shigeru

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.

Petal-edged small bowls by Inoue Shigeru

 

Small petal-edged kohiki plates are my absolute favorite pots by Inoue Shigeru

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.

A set of four kohiki choko by Inoue Shigeru

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.

Renewal: New Ceramics by Samuel Johnson

Ceramics Samuel Johnson

Ceramics by Samuel Johnson in our shop ->

Exhibition of New Work by Samuel Johnson at Entoten Gallery, San Diego CA,
November 16, 2019, 12:00-4:00 pm

I was tingling with anticipation this fall as I awaited new work from Minnesota potter Samuel Johnson who said that he wanted to return to the roots of his early ceramics training and create altered painted tableware. I had never seen painted work by Sam, so I was very curious to see this style of his work.

Altered and painted bowl with flower motif by Samuel Johnson, 2019

Sam’s ceramics training began after he graduated from the University of Minnesota and became an apprentice to his mentor and teacher, Richard Bresnahan. Richard trained in Karatsu, which is one of the most well-known pottery towns in Japan, and later founded the Saint John’s Pottery at Saint John’s University since 1979. The process of learning under Richard was not dissimilar to how apprentices had learned for generations in Karatsu, which was watching and imitating the techniques of their masters.

Altered bowl by Samuel Johnson 2019. Sam stamped the bottom of the bowls with a waves motif (which he calls “wifi markings”). He applied blue slip, white slip, then painted and glazed the work.

Sam elaborated on what appears to have been a formidable and unforgiving learning process. “At night, after the work of the studio was finished for the day, I would be given a form to study and reproduce. The lessons came swiftly and only once. My teacher would move from his wheel to mine, throw a sample of the form he wanted me to make. This could be a small dish, an altered cup, a bowl with lid, or a bottle. He would say very little about it. The demonstration usually lasted just two or three minutes.”

For the next several weeks, sometimes even months, Sam would work to imitate the form. Eventually, Sam became very proficient at these forms and painted ware known as e-Karatsu (pronounced eh-Karatsu) that were versions of designs passed down for generations from Korea to Karatsu, and onto Minnesota.

Cup with ridge line and impressed cord pattern by Samuel Johnson. I love the corduroy feel of this cup.

But when his three-and-a-half-year apprenticeship was over, Sam decided not to reproduce these forms. He wanted to lean as little as possible on them so that he could open his eyes to new influences and nurture his own personal vision.

The reason he now wanted to return to these forms after a 20-year interlude was because he had been feeling unmoored in recent years as great political and social changes were occurring in the world at large as well as in his own personal life. He wanted to find out what he could create by returning to the place that gave him a sense of grounding, which was where he began training to be a potter.

The result of Sam’s journey to his roots is a set of refreshingly original work that is born from the deep experience and wide perspectives that Sam has acquired over many years of being a potter. His forms have a taste of Karatsu but they ‘feel’ very different because they are more robust. Maybe they carry the spirit of the vast Red River Valley where Sam grew up, well known even in Japan with the familiar tune of original Japanese lyrics about its nature. The restrained drawings of grass and flowers speak of the essence and power of regeneration, and the intentions behind the brushwork are very moving.

Apple crumble on Samuel Johnson’s small side dish. This is a traditional shape I have often seen in Japan, but its generous lip and size feels very American, which inspired me to bake an apple crumble. Sam says that pottery feels most meaningful to him when it can be used in daily life.

Sam explained that what came to the fore when he returned to these forms were not the pots of his apprenticeship but pots born from even earlier experiences. These were experiences of enjoying to throw dishes off the hump and altering them when wet, or loving the feeling of painting on them in a way that felt meaningful to him. “I loved the adaptation of these forms and the way they seemed to come to life through the process. It felt like rebirth. It felt like renewal,” Sam said.

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

Ceramics Shumpei Yamaki

New ceramics by Shumpei Yamaki in our shop ->

Shumpei Yamaki at Entoten Gallery, San Diego CA,
October 26, 2019, 12:00-5:00 pm

A few months ago, I was communicating with potter Shumpei Yamaki from Iowa about his forthcoming reception and show at Entoten’s Gallery in San Diego in late October. Amid our discussion, he cheerfully wrote: “Oh, by the way, I’m going to fire the kiln without using a thermometer or pyrometric cones this time!”

Unlike many potters that load similar sized items in groups inside the kiln, Shumpei Yamaki mixes the arrangement of vessels without consideration for size and shape.
Photo courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki

Thermometers and cones measure when the kiln reaches the desired temperature, and almost all potters use them to make sure that the firing is progressing as expected.

I did not say this to him, but my immediate response to Shumpei’s audacious decision was why not use the thermometer and cones as reassurance? Was it really necessary to not use them at all? Shumpei though has been firing with wood for the last decade, so there was little doubt that he knew what he was doing, so I kept quiet.

The inside of Shumpei’s fully loaded kiln. Most of the pots are not bisqued.
Photo courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki, September 2019

“I really want to be completely immersed in the firing and ‘be one’ with my kiln”, Shumpei answered when I called him after he had concluded the firing at the end of September. “It was amazing. I now know what it means to meet the ‘kiln god’!” Shumpei said excitedly about the experience.

Usually, between 60 and 70 percent of the pots get covered in ash deposits, glossiness and markings in a single firing, which are the desired effects of wood-fired pots. But this time, almost every piece had these effects. It was the most successful firing that Shumpei had in his entire potting career.

Shumpei Yamaki fires his kiln for 4 days + 4 hrs. The kiln is fired twice a year.
Photo courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki

Shumpei is convinced that this success was due to not using the thermometer and cones. “I knew I was doing everything right, but when I was using the thermometer and the cones, it was difficult to focus. And when I am distracted, I do unnecessary things like opening the kiln door more often to check the surfaces of the pots or stoking for fear that the temperature is falling. It was like I wasn’t really trusting my kiln,” he mused.

The inside of Shumpei’s wood-firing kiln after firing. Photo courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki, September 2019

Shumpei further explained that “usually at the climax of the firing, when the kiln reaches 2,300 degrees or more, things are crazy because we have to constantly stoke. If we space out even for 5 minutes, the temperature will drop. But this time, it was like the kiln fired itself and I just assisted it. It was so peaceful, and when I added wood, I saw the blue flame that indicates that the kiln is very hot. Usually there is a lot of smoke, this time there was hardly any. It was like the kiln took everything that the wood had to offer. It was the most magical experience!”

Now let me briefly offer some scientific perspectives. “Flow-state” was defined by Psychologist Mihály Csíkszentmihályi in his 1990 book as the “optimal state of consciousness where we feel our best and perform our best.” There is a BBC article on the physical and psychological benefits of getting into this state. Shumpei said he wanted to reach this state of mind during the firing and achieved it.

The pots that came out of the firing in September 2019.
Photo courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki

After talking to Shumpei, I also realized that I had experienced something very similar while preparing tea in chanoyu (also known as the tea ceremony – but I personally prefer this word). As I prepared the tea, my body moved exactly how it should, and I could make a bowl of tea without thinking. It took several years of learning chanoyu to experience it, but I felt ecstatic afterwards. This is one of the reasons why I am now completely hooked to tea.

Which brings me back to the earlier question: was it necessary for Shumpei to eliminate the thermometer and cones? Yes, absolutely.

“No Bad Clay”: Karatsu Pottery by Mike Martino

Mike Martino

Karatsu pots by Mike Martino in our shop ->

Karatsu potter Mike Martino has always been good with his hands. He believes that this natural talent combined with his exposure at a young age to early native American ceramics helped to set him onto a path of becoming a potter.

Mike grew up in New Mexico, where he frequently visited a native North American pueblo settlement adjacent to his town dating back to the 17th Century. “I remember going out with my parents hiking and coming home with pot shards, and walking home from school, stopping under a bridge to play with friends, and finding arrow heads,” he reminisces.

American potter Mike Martino working at his Gotanbayashi wood-firing kiln that he built in 2010
Photo courtesy of Mike Martino

Mike has been living in Japan for almost 25 years now after meeting his Japanese wife when they both studied at Kyushu University. He has been making functional pottery in the city of Taku, Saga Prefecture, for the past 15 years.

Mike creates work following the Karatsu pottery tradition produced in and around Karatsu that has a history of over 400 years. Historically, Karatsu Port was one of the most important ancient ports for trading with China and Korea. And Karatsu pottery has been directly influenced by Korea because many Korean potters settled in Karatsu after being taken captive following two attempted invasions of Korea by General Toyotomi Hideyoshi between 1592 and 1598.

Mini e-karatsu rice bowl by Mike Martino.
So versatile yet humble, they are perfect for rice, tea, and even small salads as a side dish.

Karatsu pots are earthy, high-fire glazed stoneware boasting numerous styles such as picture Karatsu (e-karatsu), Korean style Karatsu (chosen karatsu), black Karatsu (kuro garatsu) mottled Karatsu (madara karatsu), and stamped inlay Karatsu (mishima karatsu), to name just a few. There are many more variants, and Mike avidly studies their history through old Karatsu pots and shards.

The most basic goal for Mike is to create something beautiful and useful. At first glance, his pots seem like traditional Karatsu ware, but upon closer inspection they carry distinct and sometimes playful flair that uniquely incorporates his American roots. I love that he experiments with traditional forms with a twist, like creating small rice bowls that are half way between a sake cup and a tea bowl. And his large and small pedestal cups (bajohai) with iron drawings are so unique and fun to use on the dining table.

Mike Martino’s stemmed cups. His work is highly functional and fun to use.

As an American, Mike is also not afraid to defy convention. He uses cheaper Douglas fir to fire his kiln while most Japanese potters only use red pine, which is very expensive. This is despite plenty of warnings from fellow potters that Douglas fir would ruin his work. Mike later found out the reason for these dire warnings. When Douglas fir were first shipped from North America to Japan decades ago, the trees spent a lot of time floating in the ocean and were sometimes even dragged behind ships on their oceanic passage. It was the salt contamination that gave the Douglas fir a bad reputation.

Mike Martino firing his wood-fired kiln with Douglas fir. He is helped by his mentor Tsuruta Yoshihisa
Photo courtesy of Mike Martino

When Mike creates his work, he pays most attention to using the material in a way that brings out the beauty of their unique characteristics. His view is that there is no such thing as ‘bad clay,’ just the limitations of the artist’s imagination and ability in its use. If you follow Mike’s blog, you will notice that in 90% of the posts, he talks about the clay, such as their body, texture, color, and behavior. He is a clay geek who is deeply and passionately devoted to its study and application.

The foot of a Karatsu tea bowl by Mike Martino. Mike creates the most beautiful wrinkles on the foot of his work as he trims. This is one of the most revered characteristic of Karatsu clay called chirimen jiwa.  Mike calls this the ‘cookie dough’ effect.
Chirimen jiwa on the foot of an Izumiyama porcelain sake cup by Mike Martino. Porcelain cups are not usually known for this type of trim on the foot, but Mike loves this effect and when he discovered that Izumiyama porcelain can be trimmed like this, he was enticed to work with porcelain.

Mike’s curiosity of the history of Karatsu ceramics is also due in part to the influence of his mentor and teacher Tsuruta Yoshihisa, a well-known maker of ceramics for tea ceremonies and a leading expert of Japanese ceramics. The town of Taku where Mike resides is where Yi Sam-Pyeong (Ri Sampei in Japanese), the presumed father of Arita porcelain who came from Korea in the late 16th century, is believed to have first settled to establish a kiln. Yi later moved to Arita in 1616 after the discovery of Izumiyama porcelain. “Nowadays people think Arita and Karatsu are completely separate traditions because they are such different styles of pottery, but they are all related,” according to Mike.

Sharing tea with Mike at his studio in Taku using his pots. Mike loves the ability of Karatsu ware to change and become more beautiful with use.

Not so long ago, the Japanese word “Karatsu” was used synonymously with “pottery” because so much stoneware was made and shipped from Karatsu Port. But the Japanese ceramics market has been in a slump for many years, and only recently has there been a surge of renewed interest in handcrafted tableware.

Mike says he has noticed many more young customers in the last 3 to 4 years who are interested in and recognize the value of quality handmade work. He says he hopes to continue to play a part in spreading the “Karatsu” name as a pottery destination not only for the Japanese public but also for foreigners through his work. When I asked him about this goal, he smiled and replied that “all the potters in the U.S. know Mashiko but not Karatsu, and I want to put Karatsu on the map.”

Visiting Vietnam: Traveling in the Land of my Pottery Crush

Vietnam

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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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.

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

Ceramics Inoue Shigeru Tokoname

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.”

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

Ceramics Food and Craft Shumpei Yamaki

Ceramics by Shumpei Yamaki in our shop ->

When I was 5 years old, a guest stayed at our little apartment in Japan. In the morning, my mother served the usual breakfast of grilled salted salmon with miso soup and rice. Seeing that the guest carefully removed the skin of the salmon and left it on their plate, my young unfiltered mouth blurted out: “wah, you don’t eat the skin? It’s really tasty you know, it’s the best part…what a waste (mottainai)!”.

My mother to this day talks about this episode and how embarrassing it was for her because it was obvious that I wanted the guest to give me the salmon skin if they were not eating it. And for a long time after the incident, there was an uncomfortable glare coming from my mother whenever I sat down with guests at the dining table.

Kabocha pumpkin in a wood-fired black bowl by Shumpei Yamaki. Black is a great background for colorful fall vegetables and fruits.

Speaking of skin, the other food that I like to eat right now with skin are the kabocha pumpkins that are coming into season.

To prepare kabocha, I cut them up into generous chunks with the skin and put them in a shallow braising pan in a single layer. Then I add about ¼ -½ inch of water, drizzle a little olive oil, and sprinkle salt, cover and boil for about 10-12 minutes. The key is that there is enough water to boil and slowly reduce. After turning the stove off, all the water gets absorbed into the pumpkin leaving no liquid. I prefer this simple preparation to the normal Japanese recipe that calls for sake, sugar and soy sauce because I find that recipe too sweet.

Cooking in a braising pan with just enough water to be absorbed back into the pumpkin pieces.

The result are firm chunks of delicious pumpkin pieces that can be eaten hot or cold. And the best part is the contrast of texture between the skin and the pumpkin meat!

Whenever I’m served peeled kabocha, I say loudly in my head “mottainai“! And, you may be surprised that there are things that people eat with skin in the US that almost all Japanese don’t, such as peaches. The first time I saw my husband eat peaches with skin, I was horrified. Japanese generally like to eat fruit without skin, and I should do some research as to why this is for another blog post. In the meantime, enjoy your kabocha with skin, and maybe also your salmon skin? Otherwise, MOTTAINAI!

Kabocha pumpkin. Don’t remove the skin it’s the best part!

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

Ceramics Hanako Nakazato Food and Craft

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Deeper Connection: Ceramics by Mitch Iburg

Ceramics Mitch Iburg

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

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

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

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

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

Left: A clay exposure near the Minnesota River.   Right: Collecting felspathic sandstone  
Photos courtesy of Mitch Iburg
Crude kaolin from the Minnesota River Valley. Photo courtesy of Mitch Iburg
Test tiles made from blends of collected, unprocessed clay. Photo courtesy of Mitch Iburg

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

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

Tea bowl by Mitch Iburg.

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

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

Tokkuri by Mitch Iburg

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

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

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

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

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

Northern Minnesota landscape
Photo courtesy of Mitch Iburg

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

Ceramics Shumpei Yamaki

Work by Shumpei Yamaki in our shop ->

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

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

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

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

The kiln is fired for 4 to 5 days. (Photo courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki)
The kiln after the firing. Towards the end of the firing, Shumpei drops the pieces closest to the stoking hole onto the hot embers. While there is a risk of the pieces breaking, Shumpei thinks that the most exciting effects can be achieved from this process. (Photo Courtesy of Shumpei Yamaki)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Simple and modern wood-fired bowl by Shumpei Yamaki

 

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

Wood-fired bottle by Shumpei Yamaki

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

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

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

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

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