Dawan, Chawan, Chassabal

An Autumnal Chawan

2011-11-03T16:32:00.001-04:00

It's early November, the leaves have turned to amazing tints and shades of red, yellow, orange and gold and the winds of autumn are beginning to chill the air. I’ve been thinking about how this time of year seems to compel us to merge hot tea with bowl and about the fire and energy that creates that merging moment. Every time of year is the perfect time for tea but the cool breezes, colors and haze of autumn, in my part of the world, seem to make the merging of tea and teabowl even more necessary.

To illustrate this, I’m turning once again to a bowl by the renowned teabowl artist Min Young Ki. He created a magnificent bowl that warms me just thinking about it.

This bowl was born of fire and seems to keep the warmth of that flame within its soul.

The kiln that produced it seems almost haphazard. Made of stone, clay and brick, the dome is cracked, yet there is nothing haphazard about the work that emerges. Still, like most Korean teabowl artists, thousands are made, few chosen for the honor of serving tea.

Among all the teabowls that were selected, this teabowl is the epitome of autumn. Let’s look at it again.

The bowl exudes warmth, not scorching HEAT, “warmth” with all the ramifications of that word. You can almost feel how this bowl fits your hands and radiates that warmth into your bones.

The natural feldspathic glaze creates a haze across the bowl. We can almost see leaves drifting in the distance.

Like autumn the weather changes. Some days are warmer than others. . .

. . . and slowly the cool breezes of winter begin to appear.

Like earth the foot is dark and strong holding above it all of autumn in a magnificent bowl.

Tranquility: Another Taste

2011-03-26T22:05:00.005-04:00

Please Read Previous Post First

Min Young Ki

“I don’t get it. This is just a common bowl. I can find lots of bowls like this on my college student’s shelves and I have them throw most of them out.” A well-known American potter said this to me while showing me a photo of a nice Korean tea bowl. That bowl was similar in color and form to this bowl but; to be fair, it was not this bowl he was referring to. Never the less, bowls like this may not be for everyone. This bowl is so “simple” so “plain”, un-agitated, innocent, natural and “ordinary”.

Before I began this post I had a very brief moment when I thought I might attempt to “enlighten” that potter and others to the beauty of this bowl by discussing the things about it that make it truly a very special tea bowl. What a pompous, naïve thought that was! Unless there is personal insight nothing more can be said or seen.

In addition, I’m certain that I don’t always “get it”. If I understood or felt a tiny fraction of what can or should be understood or felt about chawan it might give me a little peace in this search. I am sure that there are many really good chawan that I don’t yet “see” or “feel”. So who am I to judge others?

This particular Min bowl is probably easier to “feel” but may be more difficult to “see”.

When tasting various teas for the first time it often takes me more than one sitting to fully appreciate the various nuances. It seems to be the same with chawan. This post is here simply to give you another taste.

Click on images once or twice to enlarge

Soetsu Yanagi wrote of the Kizaemon Ido Teabowl:

Why should beauty emerge from the world of the ordinary? The answer is because that world is natural. In Zen there is a saying that at the far end of the road lies effortless peace. What more can be desired? So, too, peaceful beauty. The beauty of the Kizaemon Ido bowl is that of strifeless peace . . . . .

and this chawan?

Peace

Tranquility

2011-03-23T18:46:00.003-04:00

Min Young Ki

Sometimes it is the simplest things that make the most lasting impressions. Grace does not go unnoticed, a gentle breeze is more appreciated than a gale and calm doesn’t have to be followed by a storm. Such it is with this particular chawan by Min Young Ki. How can hard fired clay emerging from earth and fire seem like gossamer? How can hard fired clay seem so delicate? Not “fragile” but “delicate”. This tea bowl is the epitome of “peace” and that is why I am presenting it to you just after the devastating events in Japan. We need a little “peace’. We need a quiet moment when we can simply sit, perhaps with warm green tea in a favorite ch’at-chan or be with our favorite chawan and some Japanese matcha to contemplate the moment while clearing our minds of all else. It is moments like this that tea and bowl or cup become one. It is for moments like this that Tea, bowl and cup are made. This chawan is the epitome of tranquility. Subtle in color and form this bowl’s presence is “felt” before “seen”. Such serene and tranquil moments come too seldom.

Peace.

Chick on images once to enlarge twice to zoom in

Please go to Next Post Tranquility: Another Taste

The Effect of the Sendai Earthquake and Tsunami on Ceramics in Japan

2011-03-12T20:50:00.010-05:00

This post is dedicated to the victims of the Sendai earthquake and Tsunami. It is without images but does contain links to many images and other web related sites.

My family is keenly aware of earthquakes. As a young child my father survived the San Francisco Earthquake of 1906 (7.9-8.25). More than 3000 people were lost. Dad remembers running out of his home then turning around and watching his home collapse. When he spoke of this on a recording I made of him while he was in his 70’s he reached down to rub his leg and said, ”I can still feel that shaking in my legs.” My brother, who was a professor working near Kobe, Japan survived the Great Hanshin earthquake or Kobe earthquake in 1995 (7.3). 6433 people lost their lives and it lasted for 20 seconds. An armoire fell and hit my brother on his head while he slept. He survived but still suffers from the incident. I fortunately have never experienced an earthquake or at least one I felt.

This is a devastating time in Japan’s history. Everyone can feel greatly saddened at Japan’s loss in lives and property. Can you imagine an 8.9 earthquake that lasted for two minutes and created a tsunami that caused 7 ft waves along the western coast of the United States and down the coast of South America? There have been ‘aftershocks’ from this earthquake nearly the size of the Kobe earthquake of 1995. The power of this earthquake and tsunami is beyond measure or full comprehension. We have no idea of the death toll from the Sendai earthquake and tsunami. We do know that Sendai is a city of about 1 million people and it was greatly damaged. We also know that about 10,000 people are reportedly unaccounted for in the Japanese port town of Minamisanriku in quake-hit Miyagi prefecture. In addition, two high-speed bullet trains were missing alongside a cruise ship carrying 100 passengers that was swept away when the wave hit. One of the trains was reported to be carrying 400 passengers. Sadly the number of lost lives will be enormous.

The people of Japan will feel the effect of this earthquake and the tsunami beyond the life expectancy of anyone who actually experienced it.

The loss of property is unimportant. A single life cannot be measured against any amount of ‘property’. But for those of us in ceramics, the effect these events have had or will have on ceramics in Japan may still be of interest, even if it is merely a diversion from the great sadness we feel from the loss of lives.

Miyagi prefecture where the city of Sendai is located is not known for their chawan but is well known for folk pottery. Kirikomi-yaki and Tsutsumi-yaki are from the Miyagi prefecture. The Miyagi prefecture has several ceramic related museums. They include:

MUSEUM OF JOMON ART

A two hundred piece collection of Jomon earthenware forms the core of this museum. Amassed by poet Sakon Sou, the museum is housed in a specially renovated 'kura' or an old Japanese warehouse.

TOHOKU Modern Pottery and Porcelain Museum

Tohoku Modern Pottery and Porcelain Museum was established in 1987 in order to preserve the folk ceramic culture in the region. The collection includes folk pottery and porcelain of Tohoku region made during Edo, Meiji and Taisho period are mainly shown. Kirikomi-yaki and Tsutsumi-yaki of Miyagi prefecture, Aizu-Hongo-yaki, Obori-Soma-yaki, Soma-Koma-yaki of Fukushima prefecture, Hirashimizu-yaki of Yamagata prefecture and Shiroiwa-yaki of Akita prefecture are on display. A true folk art museum

(Examples of this work are difficult to find on the the English web, If you have links to these on Japanese web sites, I would appreciate that information )

The Marusu Museum

The Marusu Museum was established in 1950 to house the collection of Suda family in the region. The collection includes earthenware, Sue-style ware, T'ang three-colored pottery, Kyo-yaki, Imari-yaki, Kutani-yaki, Seto-yaki, Mino-yaki, Shigaraki-yaki, Iga-yaki, Banko-yaki, Aizu-yaki and other ceramic ware are on display.

(This is the museum for tea ware including many chawan.)

The Akamon Museum located in Sendai

The Akamon Museum was established in 1982. The collection includes brush paintings, western paintings pottery and porcelain, swords, armors, helmets of samurai, sculptures as well as literature related to the local clan family in the region are mainly on display.

Thank you e-yakimono.net for some of this information

The earthquake affected many ceramic artists and art groups. We have no idea how many. However at last report Kelly Cox, an American ceramic artist traveling in Japan, is still missing. Her wedding is planned for April. I hope that she will post a comment on this site saying that she is well. If you know Kelly and she is well, please have her post a comment on this blog. I have great hope for Kelly’s survival since NewsCore recently posted the following statement. “The US has accounted for ‘most all’ of Americans known to be in Japan after the country was hit by a massive earthquake and tsunami Friday”. ( Since this post I heard third-hand that Kelly survived and had her wedding!)

The Walker Art Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota was conducting a tour to Japan for their members and staff. All are safe.

Columbus State University in Georgia had a small group of ceramic students studying ceramics in Japan. All are safe.

Ian MacDougall a Canadian living in Japan since 1984 commented, “The earthquake smashed one of my wife’s nicest pieces of pottery, but that’s the worst it did to us.” — CBC. Multiply that comment by the thousands of others that also lost their “nicest pieces of pottery”.

Euan Craig, an Australian potter living and working in Mashiko, Japan, felt the effects of this quake and wrote about it in his blog. They are safe but the kiln is damaged and they have no insurance because it was leased to someone without insurance. I'm sure they could use some help.
We now know that Mashiko, Japan was greatly damages, It has been reported that nearly all kilns in Mashiko suffered some damage and many pots wer broken. Koichiro Isaka has posted damage to Hamada's kilns on his Facebook page. Look on his "wall". There was considerable damage to Hamada's Reference Museum containing some of his best work. Many pieces were lost. I worked with Hamada Shoji in 1963 so I feel that loss very deeply.
Ken Matsuzaki has established a relief fund for the Mashiko Potter Foundation. Currently that fund only receives money by bank transfer which costs $45 USD to the bank if transferred internationally from the United States. I'll contact Ken to see if there is another way to contribute and post that here if he answers. In the meantime if you don't mind the bank getting that much, contact me, prove you are a ceramic artist and I'll send you that bank swift code etc. I am sure you can find it other places. As you probably already know, when you have that type of bank information, someone can take out as easily as put in. I have suggested to Ken that he use PayPal or a credit card system.

Jan at Jane Street Clayworks has an interesting post on the disaster with several quotes and their links related to ceramics.

I can’t get my head around a post on tea bowls right now but think we all could make a small difference in the situation in Japan if we each donated the profit from just one ceramic item. How about the profit from a day's work?

I’m sure you have your favorite places to make donations to relief efforts like this. My favorite places to donate are:

The International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies,

The Salvation Army International and

Save the Children.

Those funds won't help the potters but there is great need and each of these organizations does great work in areas that need disaster relief. Japan has given the ceramic world so much. Perhaps it is time we give a little back.
The Leach Pottery in St Ives England has established a relief fund for the potters in Mashiko, Japan. Contact Julia if you would like to make a special donation there.

Be sure to avoid unknown or little known relief agencies and private individuals no matter who they say they are. I'm sure the St. Ives pottery and Ken Matsuzaki are fine.
Also avoid those who say they are posting images from the disaster and ask you to log on. There may be unwanted cookies attached.

Now we can only pray for the victims of this disaster and for all of Japan.

Peace.

The "Powdery Matsudaira" Revisited

2010-11-21T13:30:00.013-05:00

(Click on Images to enlarge. Use back arrow to return to post.)
I am sure that you are wondering why I would 'revisit' a chawan like the "Powdery Matsudaira". As my subtitle, "An Adventure Toward Insight and Clarity", suggests; this blog is an adventure. In addition, my first sentence on my introduction to this blog is, "I begin this blog knowing I have a profound lack of understanding and knowledge on the subject of Tea bowls."
In my earlier post on "Powdery Matsudaira" I wrote:

To many Tea ware artist and connoisseurs, the “Powdery” Matsudaira, like the Kizaemon, embodies the ‘essence of tea’. From the moment it was formed on a humble wheel, to the quick dipping into slip ‘tum bung’ that left an accidental bare mark revealing the clay body - in a “tealeaf-like” pattern, to the accidental drip across that mark made when the potter lifted the bowl to keep the excess slip on the bowl, this was destined to be a great bowl. Tiny specks of natural stone peeked through the slip at the peak of the firing. This slip, like that on many old tum bung buncheong pieces, was more than strictly a “slip”. It was a slip glaze fusing slightly and sealing the body. More than likely it was also ‘single fired’, without the benefit of bisque firing. This chawan is beautiful, capturing many moments of the forming, ‘glazing’ and firing process. The inner and outer powers have become one in this amazing chawan.

I have been thinking about this bowl lately because I have been doing some dipped slip buncheong tea cups and tea bowls for my own work. This is not something new for me but rather something I return to from time to time just to mix things up a little and try to keep myself fresh.
One of the things that has always bothered me about the "Powdery Matsudaira" is it has never really had the nuance characteristics of a slip. That is why in my original post I said it was a "slip glaze". The title of the piece uses the word "powdery" suggesting a slip was used. The word 'buncheong' essentually means 'powder'. But in creating buncheong slip ware, usually a clear glaze is placed over the slip causing the dark exposed clay to have a shine. In nearly every book or writing on the "Powdery Matsudaira", it is categorized as a slip glazed or buncheong bowl. Every Korean tea bowl artist who copies it uses slip with a clear glaze over it. I wrote that it was a "slip glaze" because it didn't have the same 'feel' as other buncheong pieces that have clear glazes over them.
Recently, I was staying with our friend the potter Park Jong Il and his family in the mountains outside of Gyeongju, Korea. That evening, we were just talking about pottery when I asked him if he thought the "Powdery Matsudaira" used a slip glaze? It is a question that has bothered me for sometime. His immediate reply was, "No, just a slip". I responded, "If it was just a slip why is there no shine on the dark portion of the bowl and why does it look more like a glaze?" "Let's see." Jong Il said. With that statement he went to his books and pulled out a very large book in Japanese on tea bowls. It was a remarkable book filled with amazing work and I hope to someday obtain a copy. After searching for a few moments he exclaimed, "You're right! It is a glaze." Now I was at his side looking at a grouping of very large photos of the "Powdery Matsudaira" showing in clear detail this bowl like I had never seen it before. It showed the bowl in many positions, foot, lip the bare pattern, everything. But I was wrong, it was not a "slip glaze" it was glazed with a white porcelain glaze "paekcha" that was used like one would apply a slip! Amazing!
What we read, clearly effects what we see. What we think we know, based on years of experience and reading, can still perpetuate misinformation as readily as it can provide the truth.
I apologize for my earlier post on the "Powdery Matsudaira" suggesting that a slip glaze was used. But I am happy to provide this clarification as we move toward even more insight and clarity.
PS: I'm sorry I do not have an image of the "Powdery Matsudaira" from that large Japanese book nor would I have permission to post it if I had it. I do have permission to post the above photo and have inserted it twice as large as before. Click on it to see the enlarged view and use the 'back' arrow to return to this blog. Thanks for following us.

Added to the post: 12/5/2011

Because of the questions about this bowl, I decided to use Photoshop in an attempt to get a little closer to the images I saw in the Japanese book. The first image is the traditional image. It appears 'yellowed' by age. The second image, altered by photoshop by removing some of the 'yellow', is much closer to the images I saw in the book mentioned above. One may argue that the 'original' image should not be altered. From seeing the new book, that 'original' image doesn't reflect the true nature of this piece. In any case this is just a blog, not my doctorial dissertation on this bowl. I'm simply attempting to present a clear and honest portrayal of the bowl as I now know it.

The original commonly used photo of The "Powdery Matsudaira".

Compare the above photo to the next photo.

The whiter image of the "Powdery Matsudaira"

The above image is much closer to the images I saw in the teabowl book.

Comparing the color change I made

My apologies if this attempt at clarification is beginning to add confusion.

The following was added 11/24/2010:

I am perplexed. I have received a couple of comments and can't return a comment myself. For some reason neither of my computers will allow me to comment on my own blogs. So, I'll post a comment here until that can be corrected.

Thanks for your comments.

It was impossible to mistake either the photos or the text found in this Japanese chawan book. I had never before seen photos of the "Powdery Matsudaira" or any of the other tea bowls like the ones in this book. Each photo was up close and included several photos of every chawan taken in good light with great detail. In addition the text clearly states, in Japanese translated by Jong Il, that this bowl we know as the "Powdery Matsudaira" was glazed with a Korean porcelain glaze. It was neither a slip glaze, as I wrote originally, nor was it covered with a slip in any way. It was simply glazed with a porcelain glaze. This is particularly interesting to me because this bowl has been one of the standards for the buncheong process of dipping one's bowl in slip. We had assumed that slip was used. Books, articles and blog posts like my earlier one perpetuate that myth. For my part, I'm sorry. It didn't look right from the one photo I had. As much as I want that bowl to be dipped into slip, as much as nearly everyone thought it had been dipped into slip, as much as it looks like old slip with the chipping on the lip and foot in the above photo, it is not slip. If I'm able to obtain my own copy of that book I'll ask for permission to post some of the better photos here. In the meantime, the additional highly detailed photos that I saw and text in that book answered my questions. I hope I have answered yours.

Han Dynasty Tea Bowl

2010-05-28T00:03:00.080-04:00

May 16^th was the night of the Lotus Lantern Festival in Seoul so we planned our stay so that we would be in Seoul that night to enjoy it. For sheer pageantry the events surrounding the Lotus Lantern Festival are probably unsurpassed in Korea. A hundred thousand or more Buddhists from many countries come together to celebrate the coming of Buddha’s birthday by parading magnificent lanterns through the streets of Seoul. (click images to enlarge)

But we would not witness the 2010 Lotus Lantern Festival. We were otherwise engaged in a more exciting experience.

On our recent trip to Korea, to participate in the Mungyeong Chassabal Festival we stayed a little longer to tour Gangjin, Jirisan, Gyeongju and Seoul. Gangjin and Jirisan are rich in their tea and tea histories and I’ll eventually be posting some of what we found about tea and tea history on my Morning Crane Tea blog. Instead, for my first post since returning home, I think I should begin with something very early.

It was in Jirisan that my friend Park Jong-Il introduced us to his tea teacher Kim Sung Tae. Master Kim Sung Tae was leading a group of tea masters, potters and simply interested followers on an excursion that included making green and ddokcha teas the Chinese way. Some of that experience will also eventually be found on my tea blog. But more important, for this blog, Kim Sung Tae, is also a connoisseur of tea ware. During his more than 300 visits to China in the last ten years he studied many of the ancient ways of making and preparing tea, and collected both Chinese tea and Chinese tea ware. In fact his knowledge and understanding of Chinese tea and Chinese tea ware is probably unsurpassed in Korea. With more than 20,000 tea ware pieces, I can’t imagine any other collector (including major museums in Korea) that would have in their collection more (or a greater variety of) Chinese tea ware than Master Kim Sung Tae. Who would have thought that we would find so much about Chinese tea in Korea?

For most of us in the Western world, when we think of teabowls, our minds think of Japan. There are international exhibits where Western ceramic artists try to show how close they have come to expressing the qualities found in Japanese tea bowls. In the process little thought is given to either China or Korea. In reality, compared to China and Korea, Japan is a latecomer to tea and tea bowls. Both China and Korea had teabowls, dawan or chawan hundreds of years before Japan and Japan owes much gratitude to both countries. As I said in another post, one scholar said that removing Korea’s influence alone from Japan’s ceramics would be like removing all African Americans from the Jazz Hall of Fame. If you also then removed China’s influence from Japan’s ceramics, very little if anything would be left.

There is an old saying, “Begin at the beginning.” But who can really say what bowl the Chinese Emperor Shennong drank from in 2737 BCE when an errant tealeaf fell into his cup of hot water (or do you prefer another story of the beginning of tea).

There was nothing errant about the glazing, decorating and firing of this Chinese tea bowl that reportedly dates as early as 150 BCE. That puts this glazed bowl back to the early Western Han period (206 BCE-9 CE).
I knew that an applied ash glaze was used in China quite early but seeing this ash glazed bowl in person was a shock. Frankly I have not studied Chinese tea ware much - as most of my efforts have been focused on Korea and Japan. I knew that Korea’s Three Kingdom Period (57 BCE – 618 CE) had kilns that would reach the melting temperature of ash but seeing this simple Chinese ash glazed bowl - that Master Kim Sung Tae swears was most likely made for tea - still alive - blows my mind.

By ‘alive’ I mean you can still feel the power of the potter in this piece. The bowl is approximately 12 cm wide and 6 cm high; a perfect size for tea even today. It fits the hand beautifully. Obviously it was thrown on the wheel then decorated with a simple probably wooden rolling stamp that the potter in his haste inadvertently also touched to the rim of the bowl. The clay for this bowl was not fully prepared. A broken air pocket can be easily seen. The ash glaze, most likely simply composed of ashes, was thinned with water then the bowl simply held and quickly dipped into the glaze. The fingers, inside the bowl, left their mark forever.

In my mind I sat with this potter watching as he turned the heavy wheel, pulling it toward him with his right hand so that the wheel turned clockwise.*(see below)

This bowl was one of many that day, each formed alone from individual pieces of clay. (It would probably be years later when many similar bowls would be formed from a single mound of clay.) The rolled decoration was applied immediately, probably with a wooden wheel stamp that was held loosely attached to the end of a stick in one of several ways and rolled around the bowl before it was trimmed and then lifted from the wheel.** But on this day there were many bowls formed then set aside to stiffen (not dry) and glazed.
Grasped with two fingers on the inside, the bowl was quickly dipped in a simple thin glaze composed of ash and water. As the freshly glazed bowl sat drying, at one point the potter picked the still wet bowl up again, moving it to make room for another bowl. Thus four fingerprints are seen inside the bowl.

The practice of glazing stiff but not fully dry ware continues for common utilitarian ware in Asia today. Bisque firing before glazing came much later when glazing practices became more sophisticated.

After sitting a few days to dry, the bowl was placed with many other items into a long slopping kiln and was fired with wood in a mostly oxidizing flame. The slope helped the kiln to be very efficient as it reached nearly white heat – hot enough to melt the ash glaze.

More than 2000 years later this simple tea bowl is still 'alive' and possesses many of the natural “touched by the potter” characteristics greatly desired by chawan connoisseurs today. But this tea bowl was not used for a “tea ceremony”. It was used to drink tea as a medicine – and most likely not a medicine to cure illness but to prevent illnesses from occurring. Tea was then, and is today, perfect for Chinese medicine that focuses on the prevention of health problems, as much as rehabilitation, and turns to tea and other herbs for this purpose.

*The Koreans and Europeans would add a flywheel to their potter’s wheel that allowed them to be kicked with the right foot away from the potter or ‘counterclockwise’. Both directions are ‘right handed’, actually one is right handed the other right footed but in any case we should not refer to either direction as ‘left handed’. They are simply directions for working with the wheel spinning in the direction most often used in ones country. In the case of Korea the direction changes often, sometimes even with the same potter, depending on the wheel and whether or not they want their strongest hand inside or outside the vessel.
**There are a couple of ways the wooden rolling stamp may have been applied while the pot was still on the wheel. Both ways involve a wheel shaped wooden stamp with the decoration placed like treads on a tire. The center of the wheel has a hole. There are two methods, that I have seen used in Asia, used to hold the wheel. The first is a simple stick with a nail on its end. The wheel sits on the nail. The second involves a "Y" shaped stick similar to a slingshot. The rolling stamp is placed betwen the two prongs of the "Y" also held by a nail or wooden dowl.

Red Shino Chawan T 575

2010-04-16T07:45:00.007-04:00

Red Shino T 575

5.25” x 2.5” 13.3 cm x 6.4 cm

When I created this blog, my intent was to look at chawan by other artists but for some reason one of my chawan keeps popping up. First it was a photo I found while cleaning, then it popped up on my computer seemingly out of nowhere. I guess it is trying to get noticed. You may or may not like it. It really doesn’t fall into the wabi category. In some ways it is too pretty – like a woman with a little too much makeup. But never the less I’m attracted to it. Also don’t get too excited if you do like it. It sold about 5-6 years ago and I haven’t been able to get this effect again. My clay body ingredients have changed and some of the glaze ingredients are also mined a little deeper in the mine. That or something else is keeping me from repeating this glaze effect – so in keeping with my philosophy, I moved on, accepting the “the way of Tariki” or ‘outer forces’ (in Japanese). I wish I knew the equivalent of that term in Korean. There are other Korean philosophical positions that we’ll discuss some other time.

At one time I was able to get this effect on a lot of tea bowls. This one in white is now in an important collection.

I also used it on vases . . .

and on other forms in red.

You might actually like the above examples better than the teabowl that has been haunting me.

But this bowl in spite of its pretty look has a more Korean form and feel.

When one makes a lot of tea bowls many of them just seem to pass one like waves in the night. I can recognize them as mine if I see them again but can’t remember them specifically or as being special. Over the years there are a few that somehow stand out as being memorable.

Memorable doesn’t necessarily mean they are really good but simply that for some reason they stick in my mind. Such is the case with Red Shino T575.
There are many different kinds of shino colors - red, white, gray, black, rat etc. There are also many shino glaze formulas, possibly hundreds or even thousands, slightly altered with more or less the same ingredients in varying amounts. The feldspars change, the percentage of soda ash varies from a little to a lot, or a little red art clay or even tin is added. Under various circumstances the results of the same glaze fired in the same way in the same kiln can give a variety of results. With different clay bodies the variety is increased. One might be firing wood or gas or possibly even electric (although I never personally fired shino that way). The heat source adds other dimensions. The maturing temperature might be from cone 7 to 15. Somewhere in there you should find a glaze result that you want to think about a little more. As I said, for me one of those chawan is Red Shino T575.

In addition to the obvious glaze effect, this bowl just seems to feel right in the hand. It is relaxed and natural in form. I think I have been looking at too many bowls by other potters that are a little tighter than mine.

In recent years I have been going to Korea often and have been studying tea bowls by ‘the masters’. Some of them throw with a little more precision than me. I find myself getting a little tighter attempting to get some ‘classic’ results but in the process. I’m getting further and further away from me.

I just unloaded a kiln and threw away something like 30 of 40 bowls and I wasn’t excited about the remaining ten. So I guess I’m saying to myself that after 50+ years of this I should get back to me and stop trying to please someone else’s chawan spirits. Mine get a little angry or jealous when I do that and let’s me know it pretty quickly.

I still have a hard time making really predictable work using tried and true glazes that always come out the same. I did that for a while when I worked in porcelain, but I like the mystery of ‘the Tariki’ and am most excited and pleased when my chawan spirits smile on me.

Of course this is no way to make a good living. Many customers like predictability so that if they break one of your chawan they can come back and buy another one just like it. But, for me, that is not a chawan. It might be a bowl but it is not a chawan. A chawan must have within it something stirring and a life that is a little different than others even its twin if one exists.

Have you noticed? I’m having difficult time writing about or analyzing my own work – even when I share the work with ‘the Teriki’.

So this lopsided, loosely thrown ‘red’ will just have to wait until someone else takes an analytical crack at it. It has done its job of getting me back to me.

Influence yourself.

The Death of Sen Rikyu and the Birth of a Teabowl

2010-04-09T21:58:00.054-04:00

In a single moment he was dead, a victim of seppuku. Nothing could have prevented it; not the pleadings of Hideyoshi’s wife and daughter, not the intercession of samurai generals and tea masters alike – nothing.

In preparation for this post, I Googled “Sen Rikyu” and found 133,000 entries. What more can be said? I am certainly not an expert on Sen Rikyu, but because he is near the heart of some of those aspects of Tea that interest me most. I have been reading about him and Toyotomi Hideyoshi for many years. To me, the ramifications that followed the death of Sen Rikyu and their connection to Korea make that instant a key moment in teabowl history.

It is also interesting that of all the things written about Sen Rikyu, one thing seems to puzzle writers most. Why did Toyotomi Hideyoshi command Sen Rikyu, this great man of Tea, to commit ritual suicide? In 1989, Japan made a movie to explore this question. The movie, Sen No Rikyu: The Death of a Tea Master, was highly rated but the question remains.

On the 28th day of the 2nd month of 1591 at his residence in Jurakudai, the palace he had helped to build, Sen Rikyu wrote the following poem, raised his sword and carried out the command.

A life of seventy years, strength spent to the very last.

With this my jeweled sword, I kill both patriarchs and buddhas.

I yet carry one article I had gained, the long sword and now at this moment I hurl it to the heavens

A Biography of Sen Rikyu, Murai

There are other dissimilar translations. Two follow:

Welcome to thee,
O sword of eternity!

Through Buddha

And through Daruma alike

Thou hast cleft thy way.

Japanese Tea Ceremony. net

I raise the sword,

This sword of mine,

Long in my possession

The time is come at last.

Skyward I throw it up!
translation: Suzuki Dasetsu

A full ceremonial seppuku always has a death poem. (jisei no ku 辞世の句). That there are at least three different translations of Sen Rikyu’s death poem underscores the confusion surrounding his death.

Many have speculated as to why Toyotomi Hideyoshi ordered Sen Rikyu to commit seppuku (切腹). You may also be wondering why a blog on teabowls, such as this, would deal with such an issue.

Why did I, on this April day 2010, decide to address this morbid issue and post this blog on Sen Rikyu? I certainly do not enjoy morose thoughts.

I chose Sen Rikyu because, particularly in the Western world, we cannot think about Teabowls without thinking about the contributions of Sen Rikyu. April is the month of Sen Rikyu’s birth – April 21, 1581. Of course that may be the Chinese calendar.

The death of Sen Rikyu has intrigued me for years, not because I enjoyed the topic, but because, in my mind, seeking the answer to the question, “Why?” and the aftermath of the deed, are keys to understanding the influence of Korea on Japanese teabowls and indeed Japanese ceramics in general.

So why did the most powerful man in Japan the great Taiko ask his beloved tea master to commit seppuku?

There are many possible reasons. I come to the following possibilities because they have been “collecting” over the years from readings, and discussions with Zen scholars of Japanese history and others learner people.

From: Japan's Hidden History: Korean Impact on Japanese Culture, Jon Carter and Alan Covell

Was it because a statue of Sen Rikyu had been placed on the second floor of an important building above Hideyoshi’s statue that was on the first floor? Hideyoshi became so enraged that he ordered that building burned to the ground only for it to be saved by the suggestion that Sen Rikyu’s stature be removed instead. To burn it would have enraged too many others. Some think it was because Sen Rikyu refused Hideyoshi’s request to take Rikyu’s daughter, the beautiful Lady Ogin, as a concubine. Perhaps it was because Lady Ogin had an unrequited love for Lord Ukon, who angered Hideyoshi by becoming a Christian convert. The movie Sen No Rikyu: The Death of a Tea Master suggests this as a possible answer. Hideyoshi, being Buddhist, reportedly did not like many Christians. However, after Sen Rikyu’s death he chose Furuta Oribe to be his tea master. Oribe was a Christian.

Sen Rikyu strongly disapproved of Hideyoshi’s desire to invade Korea and China. Rikyu argued vigorously against this war and died a year before the invasion. Was that the reason?

Although Toyotomi Hideyoshi had been named Taiko – Absolute Ruler in the Emperor’s name - and thus achieved unparallel military power throughout Japan, he had always suffered because of his personal physical appearance. In addition Hideyoshi could never fully deny his own humble beginnings. Not being of noble birth, Hideyoshi could never be what he truly wanted – to be Shogun. Short and thin, Hideyoshi's sunken features were likened to that of a monkey. Oda Nobunaga, a great warrior, but less than tactful man (for whom Sen Rikyu was tea master before Hideyoshi), often called Toyotomi little Saru (monkey) and the 'bald rat'. That would have surely bothered Hideyoshi. Finally there was the rumor some Japanese scholars say was true. Hideyoshi had syphilis of the brain and was slowly going insane. You may not read the latter reason in many accounts, certainly not Japanese ones, but a leading unbiased Japanese scholar told me this personally. Clearly, Hideyoshi had become jealous of his once beloved advisor and confidant. After all Hideyoshi was Taiko. Sen Rikyu was merely a tea master. Hideyoshi should receive all the accolades, love and praise.

Sen no Rikyu by contrast was beloved by all who knew him, at peace with himself, had achieved his life goals and was a true man of Zen and of Zen Tea. Even with great power, how can you really compete with that? Are these all not reasons for Hideyoshi, particularly if he was going insane, to command Sen Rikyu to commit seppuku?

Ironically it took place at Jurakudai – the Palace of Pleasure that Sen Rikyu helped to build. There was no pleasure in the palace that day – not even for Hideyoshi. He regretted his command.

As stated earlier, I begin to write about the great tea master Sen Rikyu at the end of his life because, frankly, so much has already been written about Sen Rikyu that there is little to add. Knowledge of how he died helps to clarify for me a great deal in the history of tea bowls. But unfortunately much remains unclear.

I will go back in history a few years in Sen Rikyu’s life and tell a story that I have also researched for many years. You may already know some or even this entire story or you may have never heard it. In any case it demands retelling – even if it too will remain confusing.

Allow me to set the stage. For part of this story Oda Nobunaga is alive and Sen Rikyu is his tea master. I have already mentioned that after the death of Oda Nobunaga, under whom Sen Rikyu was tea master, Sen Rikyu became tea master for Toyotomi Hideyoshi. In 1586 Hideyoshi began construction of Jurakudai - the Palace of Pleasure. As part of the building process Hideyoshi asked Sen Rikyu to purchase roof tiles for the palace.

To do this, Sen Rikyu visited the family of his old friends Ameya the rooftile maker and potter and Teirin, Ameya’s wife, who worked at his side. [Sen Rikyu had met them earlier when he was tea master for Oda Nobunage and had brought some attention to their work.] Ameya, who had been called Sokei or Masakichi, was a Korean who immigrated to Japan around 1520 and married Teirin. On Sokei’s (Ameya’s) death (about 1560), Teirin became a nun and changed her style of work to Ama-yaki or nun’s ware. Their two sons, Chojiro and Jokei, worked with her. Chojiro was already a potter and rooftile maker of some renown.

One account says that Sen Rikyu had actually given Sokei and Teirin his old family name “Tanaka” after Rikyu had changed his name to “Sen”. Another account says that Rikyu’s family name “Tanaka” was given to the two sons. In any case there was a close relationship between Sen Rikyu and Chojiro.

The name Sen, that Rikyu adopted, came from his grandfather Sen-Ami. Sen-Ami was also a Korean immigrant married to a Japanese lady. This made Sen Rikyu ¼ Korean. Sen-Ami, Rikyu’s grandfather, was an aesthete working for Ashikaga Yoshimasa a local waolord. Various scholars speculate that some of the more natural teachings of Sen Rikyu’s aesthetics came from his Korean grandfather since they are almost identical to many earlier Korean aesthetic principals.

You may know that Sen Rikyu commissioned Chojiro to make teabowls. Formed by hand with a simple glaze, these bowls had a natural feel and suited wabi-cha well. For many years these bowls were known as ima-yaki “now ware” since they were pulled from the kiln immediately after the glaze matured. Some even referred to these teabowls as Hasami-yaki or (tongs ware) since tongs were used in the firing process. This ware was so loved by the palace and by Hideyoshi that Chojiro’s bowls could not be sold to the general public.

After Chojiro’s death in 1589, Toyotomi Hideyoshi was so saddened and moved that he presented the brother Jokei with a seal on which was the word RAKU meaning “pleasure”. The word was derived from the name of the palace Jurakudai. The same place where Rikyu was ordered to commit seppuku. This is the same palace for which Sen Rikyu bought roof tiles from Chojiro.
I wonder if Sen Rikyu knew that Hideyoshi would have the roof tiles covered with gold leaf? Sen Rikyu and Hideyoshi often had different aesthetic tastes - Hideyoshi more extravagant and Rikyu more humble.

The Tanaka family was so touched by the gift of this RAKU seal from the great Taiko that they changed their family name to Raku. That family became the Raku family dynasty that continues today in Kyoto, Japan. There they continue to produce Raku teabowls after fifteen generations.

From The World of Korean Ceramics, Jon and Alan Covell

This Raku bowl is by Chojiro. Since none of Chojiro’s bowls were available for purchase by the public. It is highly likely that Sen Rikyu used this bowl. The bowl is a great example of Chojiro’s work and the aesthetics of Sen Rikyu’s wabi-cha. Formed by hand and glazed with a simple transparent glaze there is a softness to the feel of this and all Raku bowls that suits them well to Tea.
Since not all of Chojiro’s red bowls have smoke marking, it is presumed that such markings may have initially occurred accidentally after the bowl was withdrawn, while the glaze was still molten, from the kiln and placed on some wood or brush that happened to be on the ground nearby. To quote from the Raku Family web site:

The form achieved in his tea bowls is a manifestation of spirituality, reflecting most directly the ideals of wabi advocated by Sen no Rikyu as much as the philosophy of Zen, Buddhism and Taoism. Chojiro, through his negation of movement, decoration and variation of form, went beyond the boundaries of individualistic expression and elevated the teabowl into a spiritual abstraction and an intensified presence.

Sen Rikyu, in life, helped to give birth to the humble tea bowls we know today as Raku.

On Sen Rikyu’s death, no one remained to argue with Hideyoshi against the invasion of Korea and the devastating Imjin War (Bunroku no eki). That war led to the death of approximately 3,000,000 people in Korea. Far more lives were lost than in any modern war. The stories of that war are horrific beyond comprehension. The war led to the dislocation of somewhere between 60,000 and 90,000 people of all types, men, women, children, scholars, poets and craftspeople of all types including an estimated 2000 potters who set up studios for many warlords in Japan. In the process the Korean potters founded numerous pottery villages. Many of those villages remain in Japan today. In a strange twist of fate it is possible to argue that had Sen Rikyu not died and had he been able to persuade Hideyoshi not to attempt to conquer Korea and China the face of both Korean and Japanese ceramics and specifically tea bowls, would be vastly different today.

Originally I was going to post this on April 1^st but decided to postpone it a few days because of the odd significance of that day in the USA – perhaps beyond. I decided to look once more at the official Raku Family website and discovered that they, on April 1st 2010, had drastically changed their web site from what it had been for many years. It was a joke on me. Even much of the information has changed. It is not my intent to disrespect those who choose the content of the official Raku Family website. After considerable thought and conscious searching, I decided to present on my post the information I have been collecting on this story for many years. It comes from several sources that have also been doing research on the subject for years. Notably one source is now on line in the 1901 book Japan Its History Arts and Literature Vol VIII Keramic Art by Captain F. Brinkley. Much but not all of his information is confirmed by other authors. Please also compare his Raku family linage on page 36 Japan History with the official Raku site..

If you go to the new Raku Family website, you will not learn that they have any Korean roots. Rather, they report that their roots are part Chinese and discuss evidence to prove it. For many years it has been the practice for Japanese people to deny the influence of Korea on their culture and that they might be themselves part Korean. One scholar told me that this practice is like denying the influence of African Americans on Jazz, particularly in the area of ceramics.

Was Chojiro part Korean or part Chinese? Were Chojiro and Jokei actually brothers? Did Sen Rikyu give his family name Tanaka to Ameya or to Chojiro or not at all? (Just a few years ago Koreans who lived in Japan and did not change their name to a Japanese name could not own property – even if their family had lived in Japan for centuries.) In the final analysis, none of the facts of my post really matter. What we can agree on is the importance of the relationship of Sen Rikyu to Chjiro and Jokei and the birth of a tea bowl that became Raku.

This is simply a blog. It is not a doctorial dissertation nor is it a book, both of which should require much more documentation. It was originally written to help clarify some things in my own mind about Sen Rikyu’s death and the impact on Korean and Japanese tea bowls – not to confuse the history of Raku. After all the real purpose of this blog is simply to think about and enjoy some teabowls.

A Note:

The term “Raku” should not be confused with the Western ware inspired by Raku and developed principally by Paul Soldner that we know as “raku”. The great teabowl master Raku Kakunyu XIV said after watching Paul Soldner demonstrate his process, “It is an interesting process but it is not Raku. I am Raku.”

An Addendum Bowl:

While the above Chojiro Raku teabowl is truly a great one. it is not the the bowl that first inspired me to think about writing about Sen Rikyu. That bowl was a celadon bowl that I did not include in my last post. This celadon bowl was officially documented as being used by Sen Rikyu. Japan keeps very extensive records on official tea ceremonies. Reportedly Korean bowls were used the majority of the time.

From The World of Korean Ceramics, Jon and Alan Covell

Known as the Naniwazutsu, this celadon bowl is very different from those on my celadon teabowl post. First it is not a wider ‘open’ form but is upright. Celadon was made throughout Korea during the Goryeo Dynasty and although many of the “finest” celadon came from Gangjin. It is immediately clear from the crackled glaze that this piece does not come from Gangjin.

That is how it should be for a Sen Rikyu bowl. There is something about this Goryeo bowl that remains humble. Is it the slightly pock marked surface with its partially under-reduced tea stained crazed glaze or the innocently carved and inlaid ‘sang hwa mun‘ cranes, ironic symbols for long life - while Sen Rikyu’s life was shortened in spite of his reaching 70? Is it the simple stamped chrysanthemum a symbol for cheer and optimism – and an object for meditation? Or is it the off-center form that we know fits the hand perfectly?
In some ways the Naniwazutsu feels like a bowl that is for quiet personal contemplation, not a bowl to be shared. I wonder if Sen Rikyu used it that way?
It is also one of those rare chawan that seems like a cross between a chawan (teabowl) and yunomi (teacup). Many Western potters don’t seem to understand or ignore the difference. That this a topic for another post.
In any case, I hope you enjoyed this post. Your comments and suggestions are welcome.

Special thanks to Alan Covell or permission to post the photos from his books. Jon Carter Covell, his mother was a friend. We miss her insights into Japanese and Korean culture greatly.

Celadon Tea Bowls: A Simple Bowl

2010-03-19T23:32:00.005-04:00

It is one of history’s incongruities that what have become the greatest teabowls in history, like the Kizaemon Ido and the “Powdery” Matsudaira, were created during Korea’s Joseon (or Choson) Dynasty (1392-1910) when the use of tea was in decline.

The greatest use of tea in Korea took place earlier during the Goryeo (or Koryo) Dynasty (918-1392) when the royal court, aristocracy, Buddhist monks and commoners all celebrated tea for common drink and ritual.

It was during the Goryeo that the Buddhist Way of Tea was more fully developed and practiced. The Way involved a tea bowl not a tea cup and powdered tea. The powdered tea of Goryeo did not come in a can pre-ground into fine powder like the maccha or matcha we enjoy today. Rather, after the tea was pressed into a block it was aged several months before drinking.

Each detail from the preparation of the fire and boiling of water to the careful grinding of the tea into a powder, in the presence of the recipient(s), then the preparation and serving of the tea were all part of the Buddhist Way of tea during the Goryeo Dynasty.

Of course Goryeo tea bowls were used. Many were glazed with a celadon glaze.

Some years ago I found such a celadon tea bowl in an antique shop in the USA. It was cracked and chipped but still authentic Goryeo. What a find! Not for its monetary value (which in spite of its age is slight) or its continuing function, but for its grace and color. It is a simple bowl with no carving or inlay, which - if not cracked and chipped - would dramatically raise its monetary value. Our bowl is one of thousands of similar bowls probably made for the common market at the time. But the grace of its curve and the way it fits my hands is unparalleled.

Each time I hold this bowl I am drawn back in time and sit with a monk serving tea in the Goryeo Buddhist Way of Tea. Tea grew wild behind the temple in a grove of bamboo. There only the fresh new leaves were picked for tea. Then, it was processed by roasting on a hot metal plate. The leaves were pressed into a block and aged until this moment when the monk silently breaks the block of tea and with a special spoon grinds the tea into powder and prepares it. Pure mountain water has been drawn from the temple spring for this moment. The taste is subtle, not strong with a very light slightly burnt flavor – delicious. We sit peacefully and respectfully in meditative silence enjoying the tea, enjoying the bowl, contemplating the moment. Not a word is spoken.

This ancient bowl swells up from a narrow, unpretentious foot and curves subtly near the lip to gently contain the tea. Its color is also subtle like the form. No more graceful form could be imagined.

The interior narrows to a small ring shaped indentation, perhaps to catch the errant tea powder.

We are startled when we see the foot. It is rough, marred by the gravel and clay on which it sat during the firing.

The glaze was applied casually and reveals areas where it pooled to be slightly thicker when the glaze was poured back. The fine crackled surface tells me it was not made in Gangjin but still, for me, it remains a bowl of quality.

Not all celadon bowls are as graceful as mine. The forms of some latter ones are more like Joseon bowls quickly formed and uneven with less marred feet where wads of clay raised this bowl from the floor of the kiln.

Others have upright bodies and tall feet. Notice the difference in reduction on this bowl. It illustrates the importance of the proper reduction to capture the best color. The left side is too oxidized. Had it been over reduced, it would have been more gray.

Still others are refined and fluted, testimony to the skill of the artist.

Perhaps most surprising were copper red under-painted celadon tea bowls such as this one found in the British Museum, London. I have heard that Korea used copper red 200 years before China.

Many others, with similar form as mine, were carved and inlayed. Such a piece is this 13th c black and white slip inlayed tea bowl that at one time was in the Gregory Henderson Collection presumed given to Harvard University after Henderson’s untimely death.
But for me, none can match the subtle beauty of my cracked and chipped antique shop find.

I apologize to those museums or private collections whose celadon tea bowls I have displayed without credit. I have no idea where or when I found these images as they have been part of my image collection for some time. If the image is yours please contact me with prof of ownership and I will either credit your collection or remove the image. Thank you.
My personal thanks to Alan Covell for permission to publish the copper red and Henderson teabowl from the book The World of Korean Ceramics. If you have an interest in a copy of this out of print book, contact me.
For more information on celadon go to the web site Gangjin Celadon.Com.

To see some wonderful celadon, additional Korean ceramics and other art visit the Leeum Museum in Seoul. To take the virtual tour, go to the website, click on Exhibitions and then click on Permanent Exhibitions. The virtual tour is great but a real tour would be better. We are planning a very special tour for May 2011. It will combine tea and ceramics including the Mungyeong Tea Bowl Festival, the WOCEF Ceramic Biennale, great ceramic artists and trace the history of tea. You will stay in an ancient temple, enjoy the Korean Way of Tea served by a Seon monk and pick and process your own tea. Mention this blog and receive a free copy of The Korean Way of Tea and possibly other incentives. I didn't mean to announce this yet but we always visit the Leeum and it seemed appropriate. I didn't want to make this blog a commercial for tours. All tours are non profit and sometimes partly subsidized as our goal is simply to promote Korean arts and culture. You can pre-register at the Tea Tour website. Preregistration doesn't obligate you to go but will keep you informed. We have no advertising budget so please tell your friends.

Your comments and questions are welcome.
Watch for my next post on the great Japanese tea master Sen Rikyu and a teabowl used by him.

Comments From a New Potter

2010-02-13T14:56:00.000-05:00

One of Korea's most respected Tea bowl master's,

Chan Han Bong, is seen here forming a Tea bowl.
He does not measure. He simply knows the feel of the bowl.

I recently received comments from a new potter and decided to address them as a post rather than in the comment section.

Comment: As a new potter I have a hard time with sizing the tea bowls I am trying to make. I am using a shrink ruler when I throw, but sometime it is still hard to see the finished bowl in it's fired size.

Response: I have come to believe that a chawan should fit your hands naturally. (Your hands - the potter’s hands.) The old potters were not so concerned with exact sizes for tea bowls. But contemporary artists and connoisseurs have analyzed the sizes nearly to death. Chassabal range in size from 12 cm to about 17 cm in diameter. The Kizaemon Ido is H. 9.1 cm by D. 15.5 cm.

That isn’t to say that the old potters didn’t measure in some way, but obviously not because there was a ‘size’ for rice bowls/tea bowls. I doubt that the old Koreans measured with a stick as much as we do today either. The old potters didn’t worry about so many things.

Forming from the mound, the Korean way (that is slightly different from the Japanese way), allows you to place your hands under and around the clay and gather just the right amount of clay each time. Then the same movements are repeated and the bowls come out very close in size. Potters who do this a lot can be spot on, even edge-to-edge and depth-to-depth, without measuring with a stick. Yet, that may not be their goal. (I couldn’t find any correct ways on the YouTube.) But, filling ones hands with the right amount of clay is a type of measuring. If the old potters measured with a stick, most likely they measured because one bowl was to fit inside another bowl in the kiln. On the other hand all chawan artists know that most bowls, particularly of the "ido" type naturally fit within each other. The early Korean potter had no shelves so they stacked their bowls within each other with wads of clay under the each foot.

At the same time, I personally have little against measuring with a stick as long as we are not a slave to the measurement. Of much more importance is the feel and that should be our goal.
Another way to look at measuring is to think about the Western and Korean need to measure. Koreans have always been more relaxed. Things don't fit as tightly in Korea as in the West. For instance in the West a man's pants are measured to fit tightly and a good tailor is one who can do this very well. In Korea, traditional man's pants are loose and baggy because a waist is something that is always changing. Does a bowl not work as well if it is a little larger or smaller? The feel should be our goal. For Tea, a bowl is too large or too small not because of a measured size but because of feel. It should fit the hand. At a certain point the bowl becomes too small or too large for Tea depending on the feel.

Many contemporary Japanese tea bowl artists and their followers use a tombo or dragon fly potter’s tool. Tombos give both width and depth measurements. A tombo is not difficult to make and easy to find on the web.

It is easy to get carried away with too many potter’s tools so don’t get drawn in by all the possible tools one can find. After a while the tools take over. Tools are a little like too much candy. We like the variety, but too much is not good for our health. I say this, as one who designs potter’s tools.
One more point, there are many schools of Tea and many types of Tea bowls. When playing 'tag', you should not try to chase everyone at the same time or you will catch no one.

Comment: I have been making a white slip, and after reading your post, I am going to dip some of my bowls in it. I am wondering if there is something I can add to my slip to make it glaze-like after firing? I am using cone 10 clay body and slip and the firing is gas reduction.

Response: As for altering your slip to be more like a glaze. Even as a new potter, you already know what to do. If I were a seon-saeng-nim (선생님) - teacher, I wouldn’t say anything more. But being a Western potter, I suggest that you blend your slip with feldspar, ashes or even a glaze, possibly all or some of these together. How much of each needs your intuition, not mine. Whatever you decide, do what comes naturally to you. Remember that most buncheong pieces were glazed with a clear glaze after the slip was applied.

Dipping a trimmed bowl completely into slip may not be as easy as it looks. Once you have tried it several times let me know how you are doing.

Incidentally, chassabals were/are fired at around cone 7 not cone 10. Someday I may write about why but not now. I don’t want this blog to become a blog for too many technical discussions. As Hamada once said, “Technical things are important but we must go beyond them into nature.”
I’m not suggesting that you alter your firing temperature, just letting you know.

It is difficult to be in touch with our natural selves. One of the most difficult obstacles for a new potter to overcome is "being uncertain". Conviction is close to the heart of doing any task well. Try to find within you all the meanings for the words ‘intuitive’ and ‘natural’. Relax. Perhaps meditation before working and/or drinking some cups of whole-leaf green tea or a bowl of maccha will help.

Incidentally, just because something is done with “conviction” doesn’t make it good or even acceptable.

In everything we do, there are several “ways of being”: emotional, physical, perceptual, intellectual and spiritual, to name the primary ones. Each way should take its natural place in making a dawan-chawan-chassabal or tea bowl.

Most people are employed by these ways of being; we must employ them. Of these ways, the intellectual is of least value for chawan.

But, here I am, writing words and engaging in intellectual pursuit - much easier than the doing. Much better is the doing.

The “Powdery” Matsudaira at the Hatakeyama

2010-02-09T18:15:00.003-05:00

Many Tea ware experts and Tea connoisseurs consider the “Powdery” Matsudaira to be one of the most important chawan in the world. A descendent or descendents of the old Matsudaira Japanese samurai clan own this bowl. It is possible that it was passed down through that clan for generations. The bowl is housed at the Hatakeyama Memorial Museum of Fine Art, a small, very serene and beautiful museum. The emphasis of the collection is on art relating to the tea ceremony and profound aesthetics of "tea taste". Chinese, Korean and Japanese works are represented. Designed entirely by the founder Issey Hatakeyama, the museum retains an atmosphere of traditional taste. A simple tea ceremony room looks over a small garden where the beauty of the passing seasons can be appreciated.

To many Tea ware artist and connoisseurs, the “Powdery” Matsudaira, like the Kizaemon, embodies the ‘essence of tea’. From the moment it was formed on a humble wheel, to the quick dipping into slip ‘tum bung’ that left an accidental bare mark revealing the clay body - in a “tealeaf-like” pattern, to the accidental drip across that mark made when the potter lifted the bowl to keep the excess slip on the bowl, this was destined to be a great bowl. Tiny specks of natural stone peeked through the slip at the peak of the firing. This slip, like that on many old tum bung buncheong pieces, was more than strictly a “slip”. It was a slip glaze fusing slightly and sealing the body. More than likely it was also ‘single fired’, without the benefit of bisque firing. This chawan is beautiful, capturing many moments of the forming, ‘glazing’ and firing process. The inner and outer powers have become one in this amazing chawan.

But, was this bowl as “accidental” as I suggest? Many article have been written about this bowl in both Japanese and Korean. Some of those articles discuss the tea ware master who, with careful dipping, placed a tealeaf pattern on the side of the bowl. They wonder how such a man conceived of this plan and marvel at his foresight and skill. Are they correct? Was this bowl preconceived?

Each person may look at the same object but perceive it differently. I remember visiting a major North American museum some years ago. I was in the Egyptian section and was admiring a small pre-dynastic (probably Badarian Period) stone or stick polished ceramic jar that was red on the bottom and black on the top. The label explained that the two-color effect was a result of firing the pot twice. I have read the same thing in art history books. But from a potter’s perspective they are wrong. The work was simply fired upside down in a ‘pit” type firing. The black is a result of deep ashes caused by the burning of large amounts of small twigs and hay like material used in the firing. The ashes covered the lowest portion of the piece causing reduction and carbon to penetrate the clay while the top (actually the bottom of the finished piece) became re-oxidized and remained red. The author, who was probably an archeologist or museum curator, wrote that it took two firings from their own perspective. They were not a potter and perceived it differently. Were they wrong? We can’t be certain, as we were not there, but it is not logical that a ceramic piece made around 4500 BCE by humble common people who just wanted to make a jar – not a work of art – would go to the trouble and long labor of firing it twice.

In a like manner, it is not logical that a humble, poor potter making several hundred rice bowls a day would take the time from their routine and select a bowl then dip it so carefully as to create a “tealeaf-like” pattern on the side. From my perspective the bowl is more beautiful because they did not do that. This bowl, now the “Powdery” Matsudaira, was the result of approaching one’s work with mot shim no mind. He worked with a mind devoid of contrivances or interruptions to the flow of the work.

That is the problem with my tea ware work, with many tea ware artist’s work. It is nearly impossible to approach it with mot sim. We read too much – even write too much (as I am probably doing now) and it gets in our heads and mulls around and we try to come up with techniques and contrivances that will give our chawan the right look. So I remain, unabashedly searching for a natural way of being with myself and with clay in the hope that Tea ware not just tea ware will happen on my watch.

It has been said that the highest form of flattery is imitation. If this is true then the “Powdery” Matsudaira has probably received more flattery than any other chawan. Large numbers of Korean and Japanese tea ware artists make their version of this chawan – each searching for the right look. It happens so often that it is easy to find examples of it in many exhibit catalogues on tea ware. Not only do they make copies of the “Powdery” Matsudaira but select their copy of it as the example of their work that they want to print in the catalogue.

Are they wrong to make this imitative work? My first and quickest answer is, “Yes. One should never imitate if one is an artist.” But the old potters who created the tea bowls that were adopted by the Japanese and elevated to the status of chawan were not ‘artists’. At best they were jangin masters, and their work was ‘folk art’ if art at all - but not an ‘artist’. Many of them would say, as one told me, ”Creativity is illusive.” There is not the pretense of being a Tea ware ‘artist’. “I am just a potter.” They tell me. In the West we have developed an unwarranted aversion to those who ‘make things’ the non-artists. We artists look down on them and point to the innovative creative work we produce in comparison. But at the same time we admire Yanagi’s mingae movement in Japan and rush to learn origami. Mingae is folk art and pottery is part of that movement. It was also originally inspired by Korean folk art collected and admired by Soetsu Yanagi since he was a boy. So, in my opinion we should not rush to judge. If a potter’s version of the “Powdery” Matsudaira is a ‘sure seller’, why not make it? After all, there is no illusion by these potters that they will go down in history as some wonderful super potter without whom the world of pottery would crumble. They simply want to make work, and hope that someone likes it well enough to buy it. Hamada Shoji once told us that the reason he became a potter, as opposed to a painter, was because even his bad work would sell. What an astonishing comment.

I can’t leave this posting without showing some versions of the “Powdery” Matsudaira. Don’t be so quick to judge. Also don’t compare these with the beautiful aged and often used Matsudaira or with each other. They are not the same object and must be viewed with ‘new eyes’.

What would a master of the Way of Tea say?

They saw; before all else, they saw. They were able to see. Ancient Mysteries flew from this well-spring of seeing.
Everyone looks at things, but people do not perceive in the same manner. Some are able to penetrate into the depth of things, but most see only the surface, and objects are usually categorized as right or wrong. To misapprehend is no better than not to notice. Though everyone says he sees things, how few can see things as they are. Among these few are found the early masters of the Way of Tea. They had deep seeing eyes. They could comprehend intuitively. And with this penetration, they saw truth. Soetsu Yanagi The Unknown Craftsman translated by Bernard Leach.

I have revisited this bowl with what I think is startling information about it. Please visit that post to explore this bowl further.

The Choson Potter's Studio and Kiln

2010-02-01T10:42:00.009-05:00

To begin to understand what went into the creation of the Korean rice bowl, that became Japan’s most desired tea bowl we have to look at the potter and the conditions that helped to create it.
There are basically two conditions that influence the creation of any work of art: they are: 1. the “inner” conditions including the skills, eye, hand and creative spirit and even life-style of the potter and 2. the “outer” conditions that lie beyond the potter. These include: not only the clay, wheel, tools, kiln and firing conditions but also the process of preparing the clay, the studio as well as the environment and atmosphere under which the potter works.

The potter brings to his work a working attitude. The old Korean potter had “han” a universal Korean spirit that I will leave to others to explain. He was most likely “jang-in” a master and/or he was “janggi” a free spirit. He just made the work. (In those days most likely the one forming the work was “he” a man [1]). He wasn’t encumbered by any attempt to be creative – just make the work -- as many of the same pieces as one can make in a morning. Today there are Korean tea ware potters who can form on a wheel 400 tea bowls in the morning and trim them in the afternoon. So certainly a similar number was possible 600 years ago. But even if they only made 200 pieces, a lot of work was produced and not much time was spent on any of them.

Having worked with a very disciplined Japanese potter Inoue Manji, I have some sense of what is needed to produce a lot of the same pieces one after another in a short period of time. But I don’t think the Korean potter approached his work in the same manner as the Arita porcelain Intangible treasure Inoue. The Korean potter was relaxed, unassuming and approached his work with little or no thought. Those of us who have ever been “production potters” know that when you get “into the grove” of production work, your mind empties and your "body knowledge" simply take over. If we don’t care if they are perfect matches to one another the work produced is relaxed and natural. This process sounds very easy – just do it – but the reality of it is much different. We contemporary potters or "ceramic artists" have so many things that influence us that it is difficult if not impossible to adopt a “no mind”, or in Korean a “mot shim” approach. Hamada once told us, “It is nearly impossible to create loose work in a tight society.” We in the West have that problem. Hamada said that Japan suffers from the same problem – potters in a tight society attempting to create loose work.

For the Korean Choson dynasty potter, making the “loose” bowl was natural, a result of the life and conditions under which he worked.

As in the studio above, the space for the studio might have been dug out of a hillside. This provided additional insulation for the studio. The walls of the studio might have been made of stones and raw clay and it probably had a rice straw thatched roof.

The preparation of the clay was a lengthy process. Clay dug nearby was first dried completely then, using an elaborate lever system by pushing down of the handle (A) the huge mallet (B) would raise and then smash down of the dry clay below until only small coarse pieces remained. Then the pulverized dry clay was placed into a water-filled shallow pit to be dissolved into s slurry. The slurry was ladled into a large deep cone shaped pit containing additional water. This allowed the stones to settle while the pure clay remained on the top.

From there the clay slip was ladled again onto a large flat drying area to allow the excess water to evaporate. (The above photo is from another studio.) Then the blocks of plastic clay were carried to the studio for foot kneading and spiral hand kneading before being placed on the wheel for forming from the mound. The Korean process for forming from a mound on the wheel is slightly different from the Japanese method. It is simpler and more direct but is best shown rather than discussed. Sorry I can't explain the differences now. Between 5 and 8 kilograms would be centered from which 10-12 sabbal (bowls) would be formed, each with sufficiently large feet.

With no electricity available for lights, there was a window next to the wheel providing light during the forming process.

There are many clay bodies in Korea and each has its own personality. Some seem to have a mind of their own and stretch or move if the potter works too quickly. Others might have a lot of sand and/or fine mountain stone and must be formed very dry. Some clays even slump or twist slightly during the firing. Every clay has a great voice in the finished work.

The wheel was a simple kick wheel with very little "carry" or centrifugal force. It might wobble slightly, a condition the potter thought nothing of. Forming on such a wheel, even one that does not wobble, is a challenge for Western potters who are comfortable with their electric wheels. But it was easy for the Korean potter who knew nothing else. A wobbly pot stops wobbling when the wheel stops - so it doesn't matter.

Note: that some contemporary Korean tea ware potters choose to work with this type wheel today because of the special quality it gives to their work.

Behind the potter or nearby there was a raised ondol floor under which charcoal or wood was burned. This provided some heat to the studio but more importantly was where the freshly formed work was placed for quicker drying so that they could be quickly trimmed in the afternoon, probably with a heat bent bamboo gub suay kal.[2] The large foot would remain leather hard for trimming even with the use of the ondol-heated floor while the body of the bowl became a little stiffer. The ondol floor photo above was taken after a recent refurbishing of the studio.
This old studio and its kiln could have been made at least 600 years ago and might be quite similar to the studio used by the potter who made the Kizaemon Ido tea bowl.
This studio is the family studio of the Kim family and is one of the only historically preserved studios in Korea. The father, grandfather and earlier generations of the Kim family used this studio. Kim Jong Ok, Korea’s National Intangible Treasure in ceramics, his son Kim Kyeong Sik and his nephew the potter Kim Young Sik are members of that family. The studio and kiln are in the care of Kim Young Sik. Their studios are in Mungyeong, Korea's 1000 year old tea bowl village.

The chambered kiln, commonly used in many parts of Korea for this type of work is called an orum gama or mangdaengi gama " 망댕이 가마" – the latter from the name of the hand formed raw clay columns or “bricks” used to form the dome of the kiln. This particular kiln is the oldest still functioning kiln remaining in Korea. As stated earlier, it is the Kim Family kiln in Mungyeong and was built in 1843 during the reign of King Hyeonjong during the Choson Dynasty. It is kept repaired, as you can see below, and on occasion is fired. You will learn more about the amazing tea bowl village of Mungyeong and the potters who live and work there in later posts. (Join us for tea and tea ware at their festival. Go to www.TeaTourKorea.blogspot.com. Mention this post and receive a discount. Can't come, please tell your friends.)

Many kilns like this one were covered with a structure that had a rice straw thatched roof. Occasionally these would burn only to be replaced.

This kiln is quite large having six chambers and a large fire box. Many such kilns had just three chambers. Each chamber also had its own “fire box”. The kiln was/is fired beginning with the primary firebox and working up the hill to fire each of the chambers. The interior is seen below.

Historically, some potters bisque fired before glazing but many did not. In such cases it took several days of slowly heating the kiln until the ware was dry before then carefully raising the temperature to melt the glaze. If fired too quickly some or all of the work would be ruined. No commercial cones were used but some potters created “cones” from small dried coils of the glaze pushed into wads of clay much like we might use a commercial cone today. The ware was stacked directly on the floor or possibly on short ceramic stands as no shelves were available. In the case of bowls, small wads of clay, sometimes mixed with rice flour, were placed between the foot and the inside of the bowl. Usually 5 wads were used. These might be stacked five bowls high. In separating the bowls after the firing some of the bowls would be ruined. The glaze was very simple, often composed of a mixture of locally dug and pulverized feldspar and wood ash - nearly any combination would work. Occasionally a little clay was added to this mix. A lot of different looking glazes can be composed of feldspar, ash and clay.
If the clay body was too dark (as in the case of the Kizaemon) the bowl was dipped into a whitish slip composed of a porcelain type clay and feldspar or ash. If that didn’t adhere well or the clay absorbed too much water from the slip and collapsed, the slip was brushed on using a rough brush (wait for a future post on buncheong). Everything was very natural and direct. After all of this, it was not uncommon for the potter to lose 50% or more of the work produced. Many potters today keep even less than this percentage of their work for exhibit and sale.

To fully understand this potter, we have to also identify with his life style. Such a description would take too long for this blog, but a quote from Hamada Shoji begins to explain it:

I think there are hardly any pots in the world through which a people’s life breathes more directly as Korean ones, especially Yi dynasty wares. Between pots and life, Japanese ones have “taste”, Toft wares have “enjoyment”, even the Sung pots have “beauty”, and so on. But the Yi dynasty pots have nothing in between; peoples’ lives are directly behind the pots.[3] From Hamada Potter by Bernard Leach, Kodansha International

The early Korean potter lived a life close to nature and his work reflected this natural connection. Your comments are welcome.

Footnotes:

[1] During the Chosun or Yi dynasty, women and children also worked in the pottery preparing clay and decorating. Today there are many well-established women ceramic artists in Korea and in modern Korea it was Ewah Woman’s University that first offered a class in ceramics.

[2] If the clay did not support such treatment, as trimming, the bottom would be beaten to compress it and if a foot were needed it would be wheel formed. This was a rare practice but potters adapted naturally to the type of clay they had. I may look at their tools in a later post.

[3] The term Yi dynasty was often used by the Japanese in reference to the Choson or Joseon dynasty. The Yi family ruled Korea throughout the length of the dynasty. Yi is sometimes also Anglicized as Lee, Rhee or Ri. Hamada was not referring to the “greatness” of the work in this statement but to the connection between a people and their work. However, it is evident from his many comments about Korean ceramics that it was greatly admired. It is well known that Korean work influenced Hamada Shoji's work. In the first World Ceramic Exposition held in Icheon, South Korea in 2001 a special display showing the influence of Korean ceramics on the work of Hamada Shoji was featured. That exposition is held in three cities including also Yeoju and Kwangju. In October 2011, they will hold their 6th Exposition go to Korean Ceramic Tours to learn how you can join a tour.

The “Kizaemon Ido”

2010-01-27T16:53:00.002-05:00

The “Kizaemon Ido”

Perhaps the most famous chawan is known as the “Kizaemon Ido” chawan. This bowl first made famous in the West through the translation of the writings of Soetsu Yanagi by Bernard Leach of Yanagi's book The Unknown Craftsman. Several years later, Jon Carter Covell and her son Alan Covell published their book The World of Korean Ceramics and added information about this Korean “captive” chawan now residing at the Daitoku-ji temple of the Rinzai school of Japanese Zen. That temple is closely linked to the tea masters Sen no Rikyū and the great Kobori Enshū.

I first met and became friends with Jon Carter Covell in 1978 when we roomed on the same floor at the International House at Ewah Womans University. Jon, a Buddhist, had lived at Daitoku-ji for many years before moving to Korea. As mentioned, The Kizaemon ido was already known from the translation and publication of The Unknown Craftsman by Leach. When Jon told me that she had lived at Daitoku-ji, I immediately began to talk with her about the “Kizaemon ido”. “Have you ever seen it?” Answer, “Yes”, “Did you ever hold it?” Again, “Yes.” “What would it take for me to get to see it?” With this question Jon paused. Then she answered, “Well, if you gave them $5000 USD, you could see it but not touch it.” As you can imagine, I have not yet seen the bowl but that event is on my “bucket list”. Incidentally, if any of the famous Korean Ido buncheong (mishima) chawan were to come on the market today it would sell for the equivalent of millions of USD and the bidding would be intense.

Some years ago an Abbot at Daitoku-ji told Jon Carter Covell:

If the Koho-an should ever burn. (and it is constructed of highly flammable wood). If that single ido bowl were rescued (the “Kizaemon ido”) out of its entire art collection, from the sale of that one bowl, there would be more than enough money to rebuild the entire temple again.

Koho-an is the memorial and mortuary temple to Kobori Enshū, the single most influential aesthete in Japan’s history. He determined the taste of both the imperial court and the shogunal regime . . . The World of Korean Ceramics

. . .this bowl is quite obviously far from perfect. Accross the exterior of its body a horizontal scorch mark can be seen; . . . The bowl is warped and the lines of its simple out-flared shape are irregular. The lower surface or foot has an uneven shrinkage where the glaze started to leave ts surface of the bowl during the firing. This is called "sharkskin" and much admied by the Japanese.
With the passage of time, the white slip into which the ido bowl was dipped has darkened or seasoned, evidencing loving usage, now having mellowed into a creamy orange color. Recognizing the importance of the passage of time was essential in the "poverty tea" of Sen Rikyu. Time was also to be appreciated in the sense of the wonderousness of the present, to be totally aware of the present moment. The scorch mark, the glaze irregularities, all indicate the kiln's instant moment or Zen awareness.

Jon and Alan Covell continue their discussion of this bowl in their now out-of-print book The World of Korean Ceramics. If there is interest in my quoting more from this rare, out-of-print book or interest in purchasing a reasonably priced signed copy of it, please contact me. (Alan Covell has a few copies left and will sell them at their original price.)

I will return to the explanation of “buncheong” and attempt to explain “ido” later. Let’s look at what Soetsu Yanagi says about this bowl in his book The Unknown Craftsman.

A short digression: In 1957 I visited the English potter Bernard Leach in his studio in St Ives England. ( I may go into the details of that visit on a later post.) While Mr. Leach and I spoke, he told me about his friendship with Soetsu Yanagi and discussed the importance of Yanagi's philosophy. “Has anything been published in English by Yanagi?” I asked. Leach answered, “I have been thinking about translating one of his books. It should be completed in about three years.” I waited until 1973 for the publication of The Unknown Craftsman and was not disappointed. In a letter I received from Bernard Leach, he wrote". . .one might think that I like Japanese ceramics best but it is Korean ceramics that moves me most."

Of the “Kizaemon Ido” Yanagi writes:

This single Tea-bowl is considered to be the finest in the world. There are three main kinds of Tea-bowls, those originating in China, Korea and Japan respectively. The most lovely are from Korea, and men of Tea always give them first place. (he goes on to explain the varieties of Korean bowls then writes. . ) The finest are called meibutsu O Ido, meibutsu signifying the particularly fine pieces. There are twenty six bowls registered as meibutsu, but the finest of them all, . . ., is Known as Kizaemon Ido. This bowl is said to contain the essence of Tea.

Later Yanagi continues:

   . . .For a long time I wished to see this Kizaemon bowl. I had expected to see that “essence of Tea”, the seeing eye of Tea masters, and to test my own perception; for it is the embodiment in miniature of beauty, of the love of beauty, of the philosophy of beauty, and of the relationship of beauty and life. It was within box after box, five deep, buried in wool and wrapped in purple silk.
   When I saw it, my heart fell. A good Tea-bowl, yes, but how ordinary! So simple, no more ordinary thing could be imagined. There is not a trace or ornament, not a trace of calculation. It is just a Korean food bowl, a bowl. Moreover, that a poor man would use everyday – commonest crockery.
   A typical thing for his use; costing next to nothing; made by a poor man; an article without the flavour of personality; used carelessly by its owner; bought without pride; something anyone could have bought anywhere and everywhere. That’s the nature of this bowl. The clay had been dug from the hill at the back of the house; the glaze was made with the ash from the hearth; the potter’s wheel had been irregular. The shape revealed no particular thought: it was one of many. The work had been fast; the turning was rough, done with dirty hands; the throwing slipshod; the glaze had run over the foot. The throwing room had been dark. The thrower could not read. The kiln was a wreched affair; the firing careless. Sand had stuck to the pot, but nobody minded; no one invested the thing with any dreams. It is enough to make one give up working as a potter. . . . . .
   But that is how it should be. The plain and unagitated, the uncalculated, the harmless, the straightforward, the natural, the innocent, the humble, the modest: where does beauty lie if not in these qualities? The meek, the austere, the un-ornate – they are the natural characteristics that gain man’s affection and respect. Yanagi then discusses the importance of nature to Tea-bowls:

All beautiful Tea-bowls are those obedient to nature. Natural things are healthy things. There are many kinds of art, but none is better than this. Nature produces still more startling results than artifice. The most detailed human knowledge is puerile before the wisdom of nature. Why should beauty emerge from the world of the ordinary? The answer is because that world is natural. In Zen there is a saying that at the far end of the road lies effortless peace. What more can be desired? So, too, peaceful beauty. The beauty of the Kizaemon Ido bowl is that of strifeless peace, and it is fitting that it should rest in that chapel, the Koho-an, for in that quiet place it offers its silent answer to the seeker.

I may return to Yanagi’s discussion later, but this seems a good place to stop for this first chawan post.

What do you think? Should this Kizaemon Ido Tea bowl be considered the finest in the world.”? Should we look at this bowl as the standard for Tea Bowls? I look forward to your comments.

On my next post, I will look at the Korean potter who made it. Of course that person remains unknown but what is know is something of the conditions under which it was made.

I look forward to your comments (in English) and thank you in advance for them.

Footnote:
I am very pleased to be able to show the bottom of this bowl. This may be the only site on line that shows this view of the Kizaemon Ido.

Introduction

2010-01-25T00:11:00.001-05:00

An Interior and Exterior Journey

I begin this blog knowing I have a profound lack of understanding and knowledge on the subject of Tea bowls. Since I have been studying and attempting to make them for over fifty years (50+) I am beginning to feel that I may never fully comprehend them. Thus this blog.

During those years I worked under Kenneth Beittel author of Zen and the Art of Pottery, Hamada Shoji, Japanese Intangible Cultural Treasure - Mashico, Inoue Manji, now Japanese Intangible Cultural Treasure- Arita. Then I worked nearly a year in Icheon, Korea at the studio of Lee Jun Hee.

While working under these internationally acclaimed artists was important to my development as a ceramic artist, none of them is known for their Tea ware - although all made tea bowls.

In the last dozen years Mary, my wife, and I have been to Korea 24 times researching Tea and Tea ware. Early in our research, we developed a friendship with Professor Chung Yang-mo, now retired Director of the National Museums of Korea and Korea’s foremost authority on Tea bowls – actually all Korean ceramics. We have discussed Tea bowls with him on many occasions. That’s just one of the reasons that I am keenly aware of my lack of understanding and knowledge on the subject of Tea bowls.
My career as a tea bowl artist is having considerable success, particularly in Korea and Japan, but "success" isn't much of a marker for true quality so, even after more than fifty years of work, I remain aware of my shortcomings in the areas of Tea ware and Tea. In particular, my Tea bowls have not yet reached the level of maturity I seek.

Both subjects – Tea ware and Tea - are so deep and broad that focusing on just one item – such as Korean Tea bowls or only green tea may lead us into great areas of depth and hopefully insight. There are many "schools of Tea" each possibly preferring a particular and different style or type of Tea bowl. Others may chase the "ornate" Tea bowl, not I. Hamada Shoji once told me, "Be careful of what you chase or it may in return chase you." I will continually look behind me while cautiously undertaking this journey.

I begin this blog as a student, in an effort to look both within and to others such as authors whose work I admire and to you who join the discussion so that we can move closer to understanding the aesthetics of Tea ware and in particular Tea bowls.

Most of us first heard the term “chawan” related to Japanese Tea bowls, but the term really is Chinese and was used in both China and Korea before Japan. It may surprise you to learn that Korea held the first “tea ceremony” before either China or Japan. Authentic documents suggest that the first 'tea' ceremony began in Korea in 661 CE. The Silla King Munmu ordered tea to be used during ceremonial offerings. The term “dawan” or 'ceremonial bowl' is still used today for their ancestral rites ceremonies. Thus the first 'tea' ceremony gave birth to the first “dawan” (ceremonial bowl) for the drinking of tea. The term “wan” is Chinese for bowl. “Da” means ceremony and “cha” is tea. The ancient Korean "Cha-rye" tea rites ceremony for ancestors continues today. (see www.TeaTourKorea.com. It also reviews Japanese Tea.) China developed the first Tea ceremony, as we know it today, and the term “chawan”. Like the word “cha” or tea, the word “wan” or bowl is Chinese. Therefore the term chawan became the international term for Tea bowl – not just a Japanese Tea bowl. Never the less, because the term chawan has become so associated with Japanese Tea, in recent years, Korea began using the term “chassabal”. "Ssabal", also Anglicized “sabal”, means bowl in Korean or more specifically a bowl from which one eats - not a bowl from which one drinks. In using the term “chassabal”, Korea is giving some nod to Japan who converted Korean ssabal - simple rice bowls - for use in their Japanese Tea ceremonies.

It would be very easy to digress and follow the “Tea ceremony” path but our central topic is the Tea bowl, so I will leave most comments on the Tea ceremony to the many websites, YouTube postings, web sites and blogs that address that topic. The links are my picks for today. Please contact me with additional suggestions. Also be aware that there are many types of Tea ceremonies including those for infused tea and powdered tea. Each country's Tea aesthetic is very different and each "school" or even area within a country may have a series of different ceremonies. Another purpose of this blog to to begin to shed more light on Korean Tea and Tea ware. An author, who has studied both Japanese and Korean ceramics, recently told me that, "... removing all Korean influence from Japanese ceramics would be like removing all African Americans from the Jazz Hall of Fame". When many in the West think "tea ceremony" or "tea bowl", they also think "Japanese". I hope this blog will also serve to broaden our understanding. From time to time I will invite others who have a particular expertise in tea ware or tea to post on this blog. Your thoughts are welcome be you novice, artist or connoisseur. Join us as we undertake the adventure that is "chawan". Please submit your comments and suggestions in English. Your voice and insights are truly valued no matter what your level of experience.