Hamada Shoji on making teabowls: Victoria Oyama has translated Hamada Shoji's essay on making a set of 77 teabowls to commemorate his 77th birthday.I FOUND MY WAY IN KYOTO, began in Britain, learnt much in Okinawa and matured in Mashiko. After finishing working with Bernard Leach in England, upon my return to Japan, someone asked me what kind of pottery I would make. I answered that I was thinking of making pottery that would be functional in everyday life, for example a cup for drinking English-style tea rather than teabowls for the tea ceremony. I had my first exhibition after my return to Japan at the Kyukyodo gallery on the Ginza, at the end of 1925. A small bowl in that exhibit was bought by a customer who declared to it be just right for use as a teabowl in the summer. This chance happening encouraged me to start in making teabowls. As I began to make teabowls I found that size was a necessary step in the procedure and because of the special attention my works received from certain connoisseurs, I found the making of teabowls to be challenging. In those days, regular tea cups, yunomi, were sold for three yen and when I put a price of five yen on my teabowls, Kawai Kanjiro laughed at me saying I shouldn't lower the price for teabowls below ten yen. At the same time the person, who had earlier asked me my intentions regarding what work I would produce, accused me of making teabowls because they could be sold for a higher price. As I look back, this admonition makes my ears burn even now. [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] Some of the teabowls treasured in Japan are good examples of fussy and boisterous designs but, in my opinion, nothing can surpass the Ido teabowls. These Ido bowls were widely used by the common people of Korea as ordinary bowls for rice or wine, but among the early tea masters were people who could appreciate the superiority of these bowls. Sen no Rikyu was one of these connoisseurs as was Yanagi Soetsu, and I have been fortunate enough to learn from Yanagi. It is said that with a good teabowl the inside will appear bigger than the outside. An important concept is that such teabowls are begotten, rather than made. Our comprehension of these points was due to the early tea masters who had a clear perception of these matters. However, some Japanese potters were quick to follow such ideals in a superficial manner and complicate things with their selfconscious attitudes. The purpose of trimming away excess clay on the foot is to enable a pot to be fired properly and to make it easy to use. But many a potter tends to get carried away in shaping the foot by trying to achieve an effect that is clever, interesting or different. As a potter gets older he becomes gentler and able to trim the feet of pots in a natural and unselfconscious manner, but this takes close to a lifetime. The hakeme or brushed slip technique, which is common in Korea, came about as a method of coating the body of a pot with white slip. If a pot is dipped all over in white slip and the clay body and the slip are not compatible, cracks and flaking can occur. The hakeme technique evolved in Korea to overcome this problem and the natural brushmarks left on the white slip caught the eye of the tea masters and were especially appreciated. This resulted in Japanese potters imitating the technique and attempting to produce interesting brushmarks but they were artificial and lacked the natural freedom of the Korean potters. I personally like the hakeme technique and have often attempted it but as long as I have the conscious wish for it to turn out successfully, I shall always fail. Strangely enough, after visiting Korea and observing the rural markets and country people's way of life, when I return home to Japan, even though my experiences were not directly connected to the hakeme technique, I find my attempts at hakeme much easier. However, this may just be my imagination. I would like to try my hand at raku but due to the low temperature, the pots retain their original shape and therefore, I would like to wait until I am able to make any shape confidently. Despite having said that I would make raku when I turned 70, I am still putting it off. Red raku and black raku should be made without the feeling that they are something difficult to do. Last year while viewing an exhibit of Nara two-coloured ware, I was fortunate to see a wonderful bowl glazed all over with an amber glaze. That was when I realised that I should think of it not as raku ware, but simply low-fired ware. This made me feel easier. It has encouraged me to think anew about doing raku. Salt-glaze was initially something to fill up the time until I felt ready to attempt raku. The odd thing is that first of all salt seemed Western but in the period of 10 years, it somehow metamorphosed to something quite Japanese. The technique is originally German, the clay from Mashiko, and the salt is a coarse salt imported from Spain. Unfortunately the true rock salt is impossible to obtain because of the small amount imported. The results of my salt-firings have been sent to England, America, France and even Germany, the home of the salt-glaze technique. Recently it is difficult for me to find much time to work and I can only work on the wheel before breakfast and again after dinner in the evening. Often I do not have the luxury of time to think while I am throwing or decorating pots, as everything has to be hurried along in order to meet schedules. However, that can sometimes bring about unexpectedly good results which make me wonder why I didn't realise such things earlier on. Of course, while applying a routine design, I often feel that it is the brush doing the painting rather than my hand. Oddly enough, there are few failures. [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] In choosing pieces for exhibitions, I pick out the best 10 per cent from the original candidates. With such high standards, the average marks for such exhibitions would be good for any potter. When the matter is given some thought, it cannot be described as an honest representation after 90 per cent of the pots have been broken or put away. Given the fact that I am now approaching 80 years of age, I imagine that a chance to show all of my pots which have come out of the one firing, would be a refreshing idea. Hamada Shoji is widely acknowledged as a 20th century potter who had far-reaching influence in the pottery world. This year, 2008, marks 30 years since his death in January 1978. In remembrance of this great potter, here are some of his own words regarding making teabowls. Hamada Shoji made a large variety of pots and was definitely not a potter who specialised only in teabowls. This article is taken from a book published on the occasion of his 77th birthday, when he used his simple repertoire of glazes and techniques to create 77 unique teabowls. Victoria Oyama is an Australian potter who lived in Mashiko, Japan, for many years. This article is a translation of an essay written by Hamada Shoji in Hamada Shoji Nanaju Wan Fu, A Record of Seventy Seven Teabowls by Hamada Shoji, published in 1972 by the Japan Folk Craft Museum. Photographs courtesy Shinsaku Hamada and Shikamaru Takeshita. |
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On Jul 23, 2012, at 4:14 PM, Lee <tog...@gmail.com> wrote:On the other hand, Leach never made the volume of pots the Hamada did and MacKenzie does.
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Lee 李 Love in Minneapolis
On Jul 23, 2012, at 4:14 PM, Lee <tog...@gmail.com> wrote:On the other hand, Leach never made the volume of pots the Hamada did and MacKenzie does.