Tag: tokoname

Ceramics by Inoue Shigeru: The Intrinsic Power of Clay

Tokoname 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

Tokoname 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 12th 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.