Toku Art -Contemporary Japanese Ceramics & Applied Arts

(One of Kako's earliest works)

Summer is melting away an empty hope for a relatively low electricity bill. The sun has been fierce and most unkind, esp. during my travels throughout Japan in the past few weeks. However, some of the new art and artists I've encountered have been truly inspiring, and my senses were pleasantly awed.

It would be premature to announce any of these artists yet, but please rest assured that their time to take the world stage will surely come.

In the meantime, please find some recent photos taken in early July from the kiln of Kako Katsumi (加古勝己1965- ), an inherently Kyoto artist who works in Tamba's Sasayama region. Kako-san kindly invited my father and I to visit Tamba, and we happily acquiesced.


(Kako is currently working in a rural house built more than 100 years ago)



(The rolling hills of Tamba with lush forests)



(Kako's newest experimental kiln, and a peek inside his studio)









Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited

(Sugiura-san describing an aspect of his detailed work)

For the past several weeks I have been traveling throughout ferociously hot Japan to meet artists of various genres. In fact, I'll be venturing on many more trips in August, which is unquestionably the hottest month of this archipelago, and by thought alone can I already feel the sweat dripping from the back of my neck.

These trips are often times with collectors from overseas, yet for the most part, they are personal trips by myself or with family, for example my wife or my father.

Trips with my father have been quite interesting, esp. in the sense that I feel as if I am getting to know the man a great deal more than when I was a child.

Riding together on a rickety single-car local train, seeing the world passing by, summer sun blazing, the brilliant greens of the rice paddies and the forests and the mountains from the window, drinking cold tea bought from a vending machine, talking about family memories I don't remember or have never heard.

In other words, these lazy, leisurely travels are rather special, and I'm grateful for being able to work so closely with him in this point in life.

One artist we had visited together way back in April was the conceptual potter Sugiura Yasuyoshi (1949- 杉浦康益). Although I've been to his home/studio in Manazuru, Kanagawa Prefecture about 3 times, it was a first for my father. All in all, our Manazuru excursion was a productive trip with many new discoveries and discussions.

Please enjoy some photos taken during this time.

From eastern skies,

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited





(Excellent work made during college, reminds me of Mishima Kimiyo's works)

As many of you have happily witnessed, Mihara Ken (三原研 1958- ) was the buzz word during last May's SOFA New York, with all 23 stunning works effectively sold out, and with two works acquired by the Los Angeles County Museum and the Yale University Museum of Art.

Together with consecutive purchases by the Metropolitan Museum of Art (NY) and the Victoria & Albert Museum (London), along with receiving the prestigious Chanoyu-no-Zokei (Tea Forms) Exhibition Grand Prize and the Japan Ceramic Society Award in 2008, Mihara's growing stature both internationally and domestically is both impressive and dramatic, and calls to mind the rapid rise to fame of such well-respected artists as Fukami Sueharu and Kakurezaki Ryuichi.

In regards to the latter award, Mihara Ken, together with Tokoname extraordinaire Koie Ryoji (鯉江良二 1938- ) who receives the JCS Gold Prize, will be holding an August exhibition in Ginza in commemoration of this recognition.

Toku Art, together with Yufuku Gallery, will be presenting previews of the new and - in many ways historical - JCS works to our clients. If you have not contacted us before and would like a preview, please email us at info@toku-art.com.

From eastern skies,

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited

Mihara Ken's home in Izumo, Shimane Prefecture

Mihara Ken with Yufuku's Tom M. Aoyama

Lake Shinji, important in Shinto mythology and a key landscape of Izumo

Sneak Preview of Mihara Ken JCS Work

Sakurai Yasuko's (櫻井靖子 1969- ) conceptual porcelain, currently on display at Yufuku Gallery, is infectiously intoxicating, and for all the right reasons. Dotted with holes and gaping crevasses, Sakurai, in a sense, captures a ripple in the continuum between time and space, and most importantly, creates an ensuing tension between the eternal elements of light and shadows. Her very muse is the age-old struggle between these two qualities, and what binds light and shadows together is space itself, materialized in the shape of a hole. A hole, in essense, is a portal between one side to the other, and it is a portal which transmits light to the other side. Yet when light pours in, what pours out is its antithesis -shadows. This tension is what captivates Sakurai, and ultimately, her fans. For her works are the embodiments of the very space between space itself, and like a sea of black holes, sucks the viewer in. Sakurai's porcelain works have an unparalleled gravity that not only warps light, but our hardened preconceptions of ceramics.

Technically, her works are -rather deceptively- a feat of genius. One may assume that hand pinching, for example, helps her make these boney fossils of porcelain. This is far from truth. Rather, her technique involves the brilliant idea to dig out her forms from a bound parade of unfired porcelain pipes smothered in porcelain slip. Thus the "holes" that remain are actually not holes, but the inner regions of the pipes that have not been carved out and left behind by Sakurai. The holes are the only evidence that remains to suggest that a pipe had been there at all.

In a sense, Sakurai Yasuko "searches" for her work through this process of carving before firing. It reminds me of my friend Nishida Jun (西田潤 1977-2005), who had physically "excavated" his gigantic ceramic objects from a bedrock of porcelain glaze. Interestingly enough, Sakurai and Nishida both graduated from Kyoto's Seika University, and I have a hunch that their similarities may stem from this background. But I digress.

In any case, Sakurai's current show clearly displays the culmination of the artist's technique, and is a highly recommended sight for porcelain lovers the world over.

Sakurai is bravely pursuing porcelain in a manner no other artist has treaded before, and slowly but surely, she is garnering the recognition she deserves. Light and shadows coalesce in perfect harmony within the works of Sakurai Yasuko. Gravitas indeed.

From eastern skies,

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited


See the entire exhibition here.

《Serene》 by Fukami Sueharu, porcelain, 2001
Image courtesy of the Clark Center for Japanese Art and Culture

The Triumphant Arches of Seihakuji Porcelain
Studio Interview with Fukami Sueharu　(深見陶治 1947- )
Written by Matsuyama Tatsuo
Translated by Aoyama Wahei


Today, it is hardly an exaggeration to claim that the appreciation for Japanese contemporary ceramics is greater internationally than domestically. One artist who has spearheaded such a movement is Fukami Sueharu, whose works have been acquired by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, along with other prominent institutions the world over. In 2005, Fukami was the only artist selected amongst previous Grand Prize winners of the prestigious Faenza International Ceramic Art Competition to hold a solo exhibition at the International Ceramic Art Museum in Faenza. What is it about Fukami’s porcelain that captivates the world over? By fully reviewing Fukami's career as a ceramic artist, one can discover the reasons behind his many successes.

Fukami Sueharu was born in 1947 (22nd year of Showa) to a family kiln found adjacent to Kyoto’s Sennyuji Temple. This area was home to nearly 100 small kilns during the time of Fukami’s birth, and each manufacturer produced a different kind of ceramics based on their rural origins. Craftsmen were divided between those who had migrated from the Seto/Mino kiln sites, or those from Kutani. Fukami's father was a craftsman who came to Kyoto from Seto.

The artist was born soon after the end of the war. The tattered ceramic industry of Kyoto was greatly revived during this time, and Fukami’s family kiln played a small part in this restoration.

Fukami was the youngest of six children, yet as his elder brother took over the family kiln, Fukami was in no ways shackled by the burdens of the family business. From his childhood, the artist remembers that “a failed firing meant falling into debt.” Thus rather than running an unstable pottery, he “wished to be employed as a relatively stable lathe craftsman.”

Kyoto during Fukami's youth found itself in the era of the noborigama (rising chamber kiln). In other words, this was the heyday of the communal kiln system, wherein various small kilns would fire their works together in the same noborigama so as to heighten efficiency. If by any chance a kiln firing ended in failure, an entire month's sales would be lost.

The noborigama was eventually prohibited in 1970 by a legal statute for the prevention of air pollution, and thus Kyoto entered a new era wherein the electric and gas kilns were to gain dominance. Fukami experienced firsthand the demise of the noborigama, and it was during the advent of the gas and electric kilns that the artist began his career as an artist.

Fukami says that “if Kyoto's indigenous ceramic industry had happened to be an unstable one, ceramic artists would not have emerged from this region.” Indeed, the artist’s key creative technique of “pressurized slip-casting,” together with the reduction firing for his seihakuji (bluish-white porcelain) using an electric kiln, are modified versions of regional ceramic techniques used in Kyoto. As Yagi Kazuo, the legendary avant-garde Kyoto ceramicist, once famously quipped, “We're only just chawan (teabowl) makers,” it can be said that the local industry and its traditional techniques had given the progressive art of Kyoto its vitality.

The fact that the artist spent his early twenties during the end of the 1960's to the early 70's also played an important role in the development of Fukami’s aesthetics.

At the early age of 20, the artist, after graduating from the Kyoto Municipal School for Crafts (the present-day Kyoto Municipal Industrial Research Institute), was first selected at the Nitten arts exhibition in 1967. At the time, this was the youngest selection for an artist within the history of Nitten, and it was this recognition which strengthened
Fukami's resolve to become a full-fledged ceramic artist.

However, perhaps what must be mentioned above all is the phenomenal sea change within Fukami’s creative consciousness, first seen at the debut exhibition of his trademark “pressurized porcelain slip-casting” works at Kyoto's Asahi Gallery in 1980 -13 years from when he first debuted as an artist.

The majority of Fukami's early work is now owned by the Clark Center for Japanese Art and Culture located in Hanford, California, and its collection vividly illustrates the evolution of Fukami’s work from porcelain, to then stoneware, and then to his bluish-white seihakuji “half-porcelain” works. The Clark Center had held a large-scale exhibition of their Fukami collection in 2003, entitled “Genesis of a Genius –the Early Ceramics of Fukami Sueharu,” which displayed the various stylistic changes of the artist in full. Today, this exhibition can only be viewed when glancing back at its exhibition catalog.

After being selected to the Nitten at the age of 20, Fukami failed to be selected for two consecutive years. It was this repetition of failure which helped to further develop the artist’s creative consciousness.

From this time, Fukami had been under increased pressure to develop his own style of self-expression. Although the artist could learn the “techniques” for creating ceramics at school or from his family kiln, his early Nitten failures taught Fukami the importance in creating an authentic ceramic philosophy to call his own. To further mature as an artist, Fukami pushed himself to “read each and every art book he could get his hands on, to listen to others, and to see as many art exhibitions as possible.” In fact, Fukami placed greater emphasis on attending exhibitions of contemporary art and sculpture, rather than exhibitions of ceramics.

The early 1970’s was a turning point for Japanese contemporary art. New challenges to Western conceptions of “modern art,” which were imported into Japan since the Meiji Period, were sparked from various sectors throughout the nation.

A key example of this challenge was Sekine Nobuo's work entitled “Phase – Earth,” exhibited at the very first Japan Contemporary Open-Air Sculpture Exhibition held at Suma Rikyu Park in 1968. This work featured a gigantic circular hole, measuring 2 meters in diameter, which was dug within the park; placed next to this circular hole was an identical mound of earth, which was formed with the very earth that was dug from the circular hole. Sekine was a member of the Mono-Ha Movement, which was to increase its influence on Japanese art from this time. Artists affiliated with this school would take ordinary mono (objects or things) such as earth, stone and iron scrap and, without changing the material’s fundamental qualities, would combine these objects together and present the newly created space as a work of art.

Furthermore, the Osaka World Expo was held in March of 1970, with themes hailing “mankind’s progress and harmony.” In May of the same year, the 10th Japan International Art Exhibition was held at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum. Yet to fully advance the theme of “man and material” proclaimed by art historian and exhibition curator Nakahara Yusuke, the show abolished work entries by nationality, as well as discarding the awarding of prizes.

It can be said that these three elements helped to change the face of Japanese contemporary art. However, one also cannot ignore the sociological changes that took place within Japan as having greatly influenced the art of this era.

In particular, the violent student protests that shook the nation, in particular the battle between students and police at Tokyo University’s Yasuda Lecture Hall erupted in January of 1969. In July of the same year, Apollo 11 landed on the moon for the first time in the history of mankind. Furthermore, the literary giant Mishima Yukio committed ritualistic suicide in November of 1970.

Looking back, these events illustrate how turbulent and impressionable these few years were in Japan's history. It was this era which first gave rise to artists confronting the idea of “creating things.” Why were they creating, and what were they trying to express? Perhaps it could be said that without the formulation of a viable “concept,” it was virtually impossible to “create objects” during this time.
　
From the end of the 1960’s to the early 70’s, Fukami's aesthetic style would rapidly change. The artist's “Picture Book of Dreams,” made in 1972, was an open book formed from stoneware, with a white porcelain bubble popping out from the pages of the book. It was decorated with graffiti-like sometsuke cobalt blue under-glaze paintings, which were also vaguely reminiscent of wood-block paintings.



Left Photo《Picture Book of Dreams》　H 26.0 W 24.0　D 19.5cm (1972)
Photography by Hatakeyama Takashi

Right Photo 《The Morality of Youth》 H 51.0 W 48.0　D 35.0cm (1974) (photos courtesy of Hohono Geijutsu)


In 1974, Fukami exhibited the work titled “The Morality of Youth.” The roof of the box-shaped object was made with a large wavy silhouette, much like his current seihakuji works. The artist says that a fluttering flag was the source of inspiration for this work. Furthermore, when closely observing the patterns of the Irabo (ash-based) glaze which smothers its body, one can find the semblance of a human face. In other words, hidden within this work is the image of men waving flags. Says Fukami, “The flag is a symbol of nations, of establishments, of social groups; as a reflection of my young self, I wanted to symbolically express the frustrations and pains of those people living under the flag, together with its social hypocrisies, within this work. I'm slightly embarrassed by such emotions when reviewing this piece today, but I suppose this was how I felt at the time.”

Thus it can be seen that Fukami's stoneware in the early 70's were highly political in nature, and his artistic style differed greatly from work to work.

The excessive variance in Fukami's style would come to an end with the half-porcelain work entitled “The First Journey” in 1975. The wave-like form of the upper body was made by pressing the mixed clay into a cast, while the base of the work was made through hand-pinching.

This transformation was not simply a result of Fukami switching his primary material from stoneware to half-porcelain. Rather, what could be observed was a change in consciousness, particularly in regards to the notion of “expression.” The upper body of “The First Journey” evokes images of a churning ocean. One can perhaps claim that the work is highly abstract if simply comparing the form of the piece to a roaring wave; yet it is not the changing form of a “wave” which is vital. Instead, what is important are the “myriad possibilities” for change that a wave’s form can express. From 1977, Fukami has created several similar works, and each depicted a “cross-section” of a wave in a rectangular form of approximately 50 centimeters on all sides.

What the artist had strived to represent, however, was not simply a fragment of a wave, but a wave's “continuity,” or in essence, its unlimited and perpetual ability to stretch out across an ocean. At the artist’s first solo exhibition at a Kyoto gallery in 1978, the artist displayed various works of splashy, twisted porcelain in a circular pattern across the gallery floor that were, in essence, a precursor to the large-scale installation works of today. Expressed during this show were the eternally flowing waves of the ocean.

The desire to create works which further expressed the continuity of space would ultimately lead Fukami to develop new and singularly-independent works that would fully satiate this wish, especially in terms of size. In other words, a collage of square-like objects of 50 centimeters in size could only be a fragmented collection of space. And if organized as an installation, the gallery space itself would be transformed for only a brief, ephemeral moment in time, rather than for perpetuity.

The concepts of “eternity” and “continuity” would eventually free Fukami’s works from the contraptions of “objet d'art.” In his youth, Fukami had internally struggled with the idea of “objet d'art” within contemporary ceramics. Although the artist could not compose a clear answer to this concept with words, he strongly felt that an answer could be found within his works.

The meaning of “objet” in French is objectivity. Such is the polar opposite of the subjectivity of man, and at the same time, an object was a mono (thing) that a person would interact with within his subjective, everyday life. When placing this concept within the spectrum of post-war ceramics, the “objet d'art” was further labeled “objet-yaki (ceramics),” after the legendary debut of Yagi Kazuo's seminal 1954 work “Mr. Samsa's Walk.” Although originally called “objet-ikebana,” the origins of the phrase, or even the rules for which a work could be called an objet, remained unclear.

Works devoid of any element of functionality, or in other words, works that could only be physically referred to as an “object,” were categorized as “objet d'art.” Thus utilitarian vessels such as jars, bowls and plates did not fall under this category. However, when understanding “objet d'art” within the context of modernism, the term itself, especially within the realm of contemporary ceramics, is a highly unique and controversial concept.


《Distant Ocean》(1976) and 《Wind》(1980)
Images courtesy of the Clark Center

The Formal Independence of Seihakuji

In the 1980's, Fukami Sueharu’s works shift toward the realm of “anti-objet,” and the technique that helped propel the artist in this new direction was “pressurized slip-casting.” The epiphany for wielding this traditionally industrial technique first came when Fukami witnessed his elder brother mass-producing porcelain chopstick holders through slip-casting.

Large size is the major constraint of typical casting methods. Fukami at this time had already understood that his conceptual ideal was simplicity in form, thus to create works of utter simplicity and, at the same time, were transcendent of size limitations, Fukami soon realized that “pressurized slip-casting” was the only plausible technique to pursue. However, extraordinary ordeals were awaiting the artist in order to successfully apply the technique to his envisioned works.

Fukami's very first “pressurized slip-casting” works, exhibited at Kyoto's Asahi Gallery in 1980, were works spawned through grueling hard work and a dire lack of food and sleep. The gallery was known for exhibiting well-known artists, and although Fukami had already received the Grand Prize at the Kyoto Municipal Craft Exhibition in 1978, it was a tremendously prestigious step forward for the artist.

Through various stages of modification, Fukami eventually came upon the following procedure for pressurized porcelain slip-casting.

1. An image is first drawn, and a half-porcelain cast is made according to this design.
2. The cast is linearly divided, and is placed in a veneer box, with its outer regions filled with clay. Next, plaster is filled into the cast, and an outer Plaster of Paris cast is completed.
3. If the end work is large, the plaster cast is divided into three parts, and is stabilized with wood oak and bolts.
4. After opening a small hole in the plaster cast, liquid slip porcelain (kaolin and petunse) is poured into the cast, and the mold is placed under intense pressure in a specialized compressor for approximately 3 hours. Then, the liquid slip is emptied from the cast.
5. The plaster cast is removed after 3 hours, and as the cast had absorbed the water within the slip, a thin, unhardened, 14 millimeter thick porcelain clay frame is formed.
6. The porcelain clay body is naturally dried for two weeks, and then is artificially dried within a drying chamber.
7. Using an ultra-hard Tungsten alloy metal blade and sandpaper, the porcelain body is carved at every rim and edge. After the sharpening of the body, the porcelain is bisque-fired.
8. While compressing the façade, a seihakuji bluish-white glaze is sprayed onto the body through an airbrush, and is dried. A glaze’s depth and color changes according to how thick the glaze is applied on different sections of the work.
9. To ensure that the piece does not break or bend after firing, the inside of the hollow porcelain piece is further glazed by spraying glaze through an opening.
10. For approximately 24 hours, the piece is fired and completed through reduction.

The above technical process is a culmination of extreme skill, diligence and failed firings. Yet why does the artist continue to challenge this method, even when it requires Fukami to tolerate both the pains of failure and inefficient firings? Perhaps the main reason for persevering through these tribulations is that this technique is the only method that can effectively help the artist to attain his aesthetic ideal - to “erase the fingerprints of the artist.”

It is common knowledge that in the world of ceramics, an artist's “fingerprint” is a highly-valued characteristic. In other words, the traces of an artist's hands are often what give ceramic art its unique flavor, and what differentiates a work of “art” made by a ceramic artist from a mass-produced, machine-spun work. Such imprints are a validation that the work is truly one of a kind.

By erasing the hands of the artist, Fukami is in effect erasing the ambiguity behind the term “artist” or “ceramicist.” Furthermore, this erasure ultimately separates the artist from his work, and creates a free-standing and pure mono (object) that is independent from all else.

After his 1980 solo exhibition, Fukami begins to actively pursue the competition circuit. Quite impressively, the artist scored consecutive major prizes at large exhibitions from the years 1982 to 1986.
　
1982　Grand Prize, 10th Chunichi International Ceramic
Exhibition
1983　Governor of Aichi Prefecture Prize, 11th Chunichi
International Ceramic Exhibition
1984　Special Selection Prize, Nitten
　　 Runner Up to Grand Prize, 12th Chunichi International
Ceramic Exhibition
1985　Grand Prize, 43rd Faenza International Ceramic Exhibition
　　　Grand Prize, 13th Chunichi International Ceramic
Exhibition
1986　Bronze Prize, 1st Mino International Ceramic Exhibition

In a span of 5 years, Fukami Sueharu was quickly elevated to international stardom. After his commemorative exhibition at the International Ceramic Art Museum in Faenza, the artist set off on a flurry of solo exhibitions in museums and galleries spanning Germany, Holland, Belgium, Switzerland, and the United States.
　
There have been several ceramic artists from Japan who have received top prizes at international exhibitions. However, even when simply comparing the number of solo exhibitions held by these artists with those held by Fukami, it can be claimed that the demand and recognition for Fukami’s works exceeds that of other ceramicists. What is it about Fukami's art that enraptures the hearts of people the world over?

We must once again return to the issue of “objet d'art” when tackling this question. In the West, ceramics have long been categorized as “craft art,” wherein the individuality of an artist was seemingly absent. In Japan, however, there have been artists such as Ogata Kenzan in the Edo Period, along with Itaya Hazan and Tomimoto Kenkichi in modern times, who have created ceramics that were vivid evidence of individual artistry. However, irrelevant of the constraints imposed by functionality, the world of craft was in many ways incompatible with individual artists.

Yet after the post-war introduction of Western conceptions of “modern art,” regardless of whether a work was functional or not, what became paramount was the form of “self-expression” used by a subjective artist. In other words, the fundamental underlying premise of modernism was the subjectivity of the individual. Although ceramics did not traditionally contain elements of subjectivity, when ceramics were in fact instilled with a fledgling, self-expressive subjectivity, the end product could no longer be referred to as a mere “thing.” Rather, the work blossomed into what is now considered “objet d'art.”

The 1970's, however, introduced a growing distaste or objection to the subjectivity of an artist, and the conception of “objet d'art,” free from the fetters of functionality, had no choice but to reach a stage of independent self-existence. Fukami Sueharu's ceramic art bid its last farewell to the ambivalence found in the self-expression of the so-called artist, and embarked on the journey of existing for existence's sake.

Much like how modern sculpture discarded its traditional pedestals or platforms, defragmented its very forms, eradicated its compliance to sheer volume, and was minimally reduced to the naturalness of objectivity, or how the advent of installation art created a new-found predominance in “space” which absolved the reliance on “art as substance,” this aesthetic shift was a natural progression.

Moreover, what Fukami wishes to reveal is the “space” that lies beyond the supple curves and sharp silhouettes of his works. The triumphant arches that give birth to his curving forms represent what cannot be seen: the perpetual circularity and the continuity of space itself.

《Scene II》(2004)
Image courtesy of the National Gallery of Australia

During his most recent Faenza exhibition in 2005, an Italian art critic, to show his reverence for Fukami's art, literally kneeled down before a work as if it were holy, much to the befuddlement of the artist.

Perhaps the art critic, as with other foreign aficionados, sensed that Fukami Sueharu's porcelain were at the cusp of the divine. It can be claimed that the ultimate test of modernism is divinity. If such is in fact true, one can consider the art critic's actions to be praise of the highest order.

Written by Matsuyama Tatsuo
Translated by Aoyama Wahei

Honoho Geijutsu No. 94, 2008 Yufuku Gallery/Toku Art Ltd.


Fukami Sueharu (深見陶治)　Artist Profile
Born 1947 (22nd Year of Showa) in Kyoto, Japan. Receives Grand Prize at Kyoto Craft Art Exhibition in 1978. Receives Grand Prize at 10th Chunichi International Ceramic Exhibition in 1982. Special selection at Nitten, runner-up to Grand Prize at 12th Chunichi International Ceramic Exhibition in 1984. Receives Grand Prize at 43rd Faenza International Ceramic Exhibition in 1985, along with the Grand Prize at 13th Chunichi International Ceramic Exhibition. Receives the MOA Okada Shigekichi Merit Prize in 1992, along with the Japan Ceramic Society Award. Receives Kyoto Art and Culture Award in 1995. Receives Mainichi Art Award in 1996. Receives Kyoto Prefecture Culture Prize in 1997. Solo exhibition at Faenza International Ceramic Museum in Italy, 2005.

Tamba revolutionary Ichino Masahiko (市野雅彦　1961- ) is currently in the midst of an imaginative new show at the prestigious Mitsukoshi Department Store in Nihonbashi.

Advancing the theme of "clay cocoons" exhibited at last year's Paramita Museum Awards, Ichino has delved further into creating an entirely new series of works.

Gone are the linear stripes and various other decorative motifs found on previous works. Gone are the rigid forms and straight edges. Gone are the obvious hallmarks of functionality. Gone, even, are the use of his wood and gas kilns.



What remains, however, is Ichino's staunch emphasis on the importance of form and originality.

Appearances are often deceiving. His new works in general appear round and organic, soft and plush. In fact, the voluptious stoneware may strike a viewer as extremely weighty. Bulk, perhaps, is what first comes to mind.

On the contrary, each and every work on display ishollow. Tap their clay bodies, and emptiness rings through the air.

In other words, relative to a work's actual size, Ichino's clay cocoons are light as a feather. The artist achieves this unique characteristic through an ingenious use of both hand-pinching and ventilation. After forming individual slabs with the use of a wooden board, Ichino connects them together whilst leaving the inner regions empty. He then pokes holes into each section, so that hot air can escape during firing without making the work explode in the kiln. He further applies black slip or his trademark salt water orange, and fires again repeatedly, alternating between oxidation and reduction. The end product, thus, is the culmination of an intricate creative process which is very much an Ichino original.



Cocoons represent a metamorphosis, a transformation, of dramatically changing an object's characteristics. To Ichino, it further represents the myriad possibilities that the material of clay provides to an artist. Ichino is not limited by the clay of Tamba - rather, it is clay that inspires him to create new ways of expression. Thus, the term "cocoon" is an apt name to a new series of works wherein it can be seen that Ichino is actively trying to push himself to greater heights.

I wasn't the only one taking notice. Kakurezaki Ryuichi, perhaps the most famous name in contemporary Bizen, came by as I was interviewing the artist to inspect Ichino's works.

In many ways, Kakurezaki and Ichino are quite similar. Bizen and Tamba are 2 of the Rokkoyo (Six Old Kilns) of Japan, and their kiln sites have long supplied the nation with functional, earthy, utilitarian, high-fired stoneware made with regional clay. However, each artist has added a new depth to their origins by placing primacy on form whilst continuing to respect traditional firing and decorative techniques. Both artists are revolutionaries of their respective kiln sites, and have become their most sought-after ceramicists.



The propeller-like object in the first set of images is a clear example of extreme technique, in that he made each "blade" individually and connected them together. To fire them at once without breaking is a feat in itself, but the colors of the piece are natural and not glaring. In fact, multiple firings within the electric kiln has added a gentleness to Ichino's palette of colors. Works that exhibit a vivid orange are basically fired only once. Other works that exhibit an ambigous blend of orange and black slip have been fired up to 5 times. I believe it is these types of works that succeed best.

For example, I particularly enjoyed the work below.



Not only is the form organic and pillowy, its natural firing is both addictive and enthralling.

Ichino is still developing this new style, and his Mitsukoshi exhibition is an excellent beginning. Let us see how the artist's clay cocoons eventually evolve. There is no doubt in my mind that they would grow the most beautiful wings.

From eastern skies,

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited

　　


Kako Katsumi's 10th Tobu Department Store Exhibition is, quite simply, the most impressive exhibition of works ever assembled by the artist in his entire career, and is a grand and sweeping symphony of ceramic art that is persuasive evidence of Kako's new-found maturity and confidence as an artist.



Ambition is often a two-edged sword: it may propel an artist's art to heights that were once only dreamed of, or it may simply expose a milieu of empty grandiosity that quickly escapes our memory.

Kako is far removed from being "ambitious" in the sense of some narscissistic, self-promotional gimmickry, of bling-bling, of selling out for sale's sake. Rather, his ambition is grounded in the utmost humility, and this inner energy constantly pushes Kako to better himself, to create new art, to challenge and overcome the constraints that bind his artistry.

Challenge is an understatement. Kako had already made a name for himself by making functional, user-friendly vessels such as guinomi, yunomi and plates, and has been widely recognized as making excellent tea wares, in particular the incredibly difficult chawan, of which he had received the top prize at the Tea Forms Exhibition (Tanabe Museum's Chanoyu-no-zokei Exhibition) in 2004 for his Awayuki style.



Rather than clinging to the coattails of past glories (namely his Korihada, Awayuki, Black and Shizukumon styles), Kako has discarded not only his authentically original repertoire, but the possibilities (and limitations) of the wood-burning kiln for the control and efficiency of an electric kiln. In a sense, this choice was a renunciation of his past works, and moreover, the lessons learned from his teacher, Kyoto potter Iwabuchi Shigeya. Perhaps it was a purification, a return to innocense, if you will, that freed the artist from the fetters of preconception. It can be said that Kako's creatitivy was sparked by the newly-kindled fires of his electric kiln.



Furthermore, he has eschewed the entrapments of small utilitarian works to place emphasis on the beauty and grandeur of larger, more sculptural forms. This has worked to Kako's advantage. The artist already had a knack for balance and style, as exhibited in his award-winning works of the past. However, with this exhibition, Kako has transposed and advanced such stylism into far more adventurous territory, and as a result, has triumphantly surpassed the expectations of this author. Kako's new works brim with both movement and sharpness, and are not only bolder, but bigger in size, presence, and interestingly enough, elegance.

Perhaps even more pleasing is the inflorescence of his new muse - the color red. Originally inspired by Kako's infatuation with Jomon Period Dogu earthenware, it had been the artist's wish to recreate the vague red color of the ancients in modern times.

I would go so far as to claim that his initial debut with his so-called Haikaku (ash red) style was merely experimental at best. As commented in my review of Kako's previous Tobu exhibition, the artist did not seem to be able to strike a convincing balance between form and decorative motif. His forms were uninspired, and his patterns lacked the imagination and continuity which were the hallmarks of past legends -Tomimoto and Kamoda in particular. He seemed to be constrained by the contraptions of a new color scheme, and a rigid awkwardness could be found to many of the works.



A far superior harmony between form and pattern is struck in this exhibition. Kako executes his red motif with a breezy playfulness, often times covering the entirety of a work's body, at other times just briefly entertaining a piece in sweet, staccato brevity. Where one may confuse complexity for
technical or artistic superiority, Kako instills in his motifs a poetic simplicity. Ultimately, Kako's new works reveal an artist at ease with one's self, finally confident in his powers, and is expanding the boundaries to an innate creativity that he has only begun to tap. Now in his 40's, Kako has finally hit a stride.

Red was the color which pushed Kako to abandon his wood kiln for an electric one. To achieve the faded sanguine in his mind's eye, Kako needed to fire his works for 3 different periods -first a bisque firing, a second hon-yaki that reaches 1250 degrees celsius for 10 to 11 hours, and a third firing after the application of red enamel glaze. In that sense, it can be said that his works take 3 times as much effort as his previous works. This new technique, coupled with his blended Shigaraki clay, also adds the pleasing, sandpaper-esque textures of firing that are akin to the works of Mihara Ken. Both clay flavor and firing enhance the elements of depth and patina to Kako's forms and palettes, and thus lead to a captivating ceramic balance that is a prerequisite of excellence.


(Work featured on cover of DM letter)

To be quite honest, I did not expect that Kako could achieve such a rapid evolution in merely a year. However, the artist's new work dug deeply into this reviewer's heart, and convinced this writer that he was witnessing the birth of something special. Kako, humble as ever, may not yet sense his own artistic renaissance - the simple yet irreversible truth that he may be very close to being on the cusp of greatness. Serious collectors - I strongly recommend that you run to Tobu before it's too late.

From eastern skies,

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited

(Kako Katsumi, pictured right)

(For work inquiries, please also contact Toku Art).

(Haikaku Vase by Kako Katsumi, photo courtesy of the artist)

Among the many solo ceramic exhibitions that are currently taking place in Japan, I'd like to turn your attention to three shows that may prove interesting.

Firstly, Kako Katsumi 加古勝己 1965- )
will be exhibiting for the 10th consecutive year at Ikebukuro's Tobu Department Store, from April 17th to the 23rd.

One key aspect of Kako's works that I have always enjoyed is the lack of pretentiousness. There is a soothing and gentle ambience to his forms and glazes, and perhaps such is why the artist has many female fans. Not only this, Kako's works have at their core the fundamental element of functionality. His works are easy to use, and are meant to be used. Lately he has been working on a new style which incorporates the pigment of red: I hope to visit the show and report on this artist's progress in the coming week.


(Highlight of a recent Kawabata work, photo courtesy of Gallery Utsuwakan)

Kawabata Kentaro （川端健太郎 1976- ) is a young artist who is currently having an exhibition at Kyoto's Gallery Utsuwa-kan until the 29th of April. Having won a flurry of prizes since his debut in 2001, Kawabata is quickly gaining acclaim for his surreal world of twisted shapes and swirling colours. Although I won't be able to visit the show, I do hope that fans in the Kansai region will take note.


(Ichino Masahiko "Untitled" at Nihombashi Mitsukoshi, photo courtesy of the gallery)

Lastly, Ichino Masahiko (市野雅彦 1961- ) is having a major exhibition at the prestigous Nihombashi Mitsukoshi from April 22nd to the 28th. In this exhibition, Ichino will be taking on the theme of ceramic "cocoons", which he calls "the vessels of life." I first saw Ichino undertake this style during last year's Paramita Exhibition. I thought it was excellent then (esp. as I enjoy Ichino's organic forms as opposed to his rigid and tense works), and I look forward to reviewing the evolution of this imaginative artist in the next few weeks.

From eastern skies,

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited

Bonus: Tsujimura Yui makes some of the most splendidly seductive vases in Japan today. Just see the curves on this piece, and even more unbelievable is that milky-way firing! This piece is one in a million. Kudos to Yui-san.

(Mihara Ken "Kigen" 2008, Award-winning Piece at the Cha-no-yu no Zokei Exhibition, otherwise known as the Tea Forms Exhibition, at the Tanabe Museum in Shimane Prefecture, photo courtesy of the Sanin Chuo Shinpo Newspaper)

It's official. Mihara Ken (三原研 1958-) has been awarded what is considered by many to be the most prestigious ceramic art prize in Japan, the Japan Ceramic Society Prize, for the year of 2007. The Gold Prize Winner, awarded to past winners of the Japan Ceramic Society Prize, goes to Koie Ryoji -which is actually somewhat surprising, in that considering Koie's stature as an artist, I was quite surprised ot find that he hadn't received it years before.

Who decides such awards? This is a good question, and probably one that hasn't been fully answered in English to this day.

The Japan Ceramic Society Prize Committee, comprised of various members of the Japan Ceramic Society, is congregated annually to choose a winner (or winners in situations where there is a tie in points) from a pool of nominees selected by various authorities.

This year's Committee featured such names as Kaneko Kenji and Karasawa Masahiro of the National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo, Umesawa Nobuko of the Mushanokoji School of Tea, Kuroda Kazuya of Ginza Kuroda Toen, Kochukyo's Miyajima Kakuzo, art critics/academics Yoshida Kozo, Yuba Tadanori, Nakanodo Kazunobu, Nishida Hiroko and Hasebe Mitsuhiko, and Mori Koichi, one of the current leaders of the today's Japan Ceramic Society.

Perhaps a more interesting (or formidable) list is those members who had nominated artists for the award. Hayashiya Seizo and Inui Yoshiaki, perhaps two of the greatest living academics of Japanese ceramic art, were but a few of the names.

Basically, the Committee gives and tallies points to the list of nominees, and the name with the most points wins.

Competition for this year's prize winner was fierce. Mihara was head to head with another talented artist, Sugiura Yasuyoshi (杉浦康益 1949-) for the top prize, and just slightly edged out the
conceptual potter to reach the memorable pinnacle. A distant third was achieved by the 14th Imaizumi Imaemon.

The praise for Mihara's works voiced by the Committee were nothing less of spectacular. "The artist's powerful yet simple style is completely unique." "Truly innovative firing method gives birth to great depth in color, and the work, although at first glance looks full of age and patina, is actually amazingly fresh and modern." Further, "in terms of contemporary yakishime (unglazed or naturally glazed high-fired stoneware) ware, Mihara shows an uncanny ability."

Not surprisingly, Mihara also recently was awarded the Grand Prize at the annual Tea Forms exhibition at the Tanabe Museum -this is Mihara's second Grand Prize at the show.

These accolades, coupled with public purchases of Mihara's work by the world-famous Metropolitan Museum in New York (2007) and the Victoria & Albert Museum in London (2008), are vivid testaments to the growing momentum in interest and praise that is building around the artist.

Completely new works by Mihara Ken will be available at the up-coming SOFA show in NYC, along with the Japan Ceramic Society Award Exhibition to be held in July. Do not miss them -they are some of his best works yet.

Wahei Aoyama　青山和平
Toku Art Limited

PS: Upcoming articles will feature a review of the 2nd Musee Tomo Contemporary Tea Forms Awards, new works and a review of Sugiura Yasuyoshi, along with slight briefs on the exhibitions of Kako Katsumi and Kawabata Kentaro... please stay tuned.

(Article originally written for e-y Net, Courtesy of e-y Net)

Written by Wahei Aoyama (2004/2/26)

Foreword

It has been four years since I had written an admittedly passionate criticism of the so-called Living National Treasure System.

I was quite surprised to find, in later years, that the article had far exceeded the expectations of its writer in terms of reach - the critique would be used as material for art history classes at universities, and would be often quoted in art journals and web articles. Several readers of this particular article even came up to me in London during Collect to mention that the article had made them think about the subject in a difference light -not solely with blind reverence, but with a studied and objective eye.

Thus in hindsight, I must admit that I am pleased with the article's response. However, four years have passed since the article had been written, and yet we continue to find ourselves in a world where not much has changed in terms of the system itself. Rather, it seems that recent selections had only bolstered the arguments made herein -a sad predicament indeed. We have also witnessed the passing of many LNT that had represented the last breed of artists who had carried on the exceptional creative legacies of their predecessors -Shimaoka, Shimizu, and Miura, for example, and we can now consider ourselves in an era where LNTs hardly carry the artistic weight of past generations. Are we to simply lament this day and age, or are we to look beyond the system for new art and artists? I would strongly advocate the latter, rather than drowning ourselves in the quagmires of days past.

Wahei Aoyama (2008/3/25)



A Critique of Japan's Living National Treasure System


We can't get enough of Living National Treasures. Kaneshige Toyo, Arakawa Toyozo, Hamada Shoji -- we reminisce such legendary ceramic artists with almost holy reverence. Likewise, the term "Living National Treasure" rings with a certain legitimacy, as the title is officially stamped with the seal of approval of the Japanese government. The name vividly calls to mind something far beyond the layman's world. The greatest art and traditions of Japan -- Korin's screens, Koetsu's chawan, Rikyu's tearoom, Itsukushima Shrine, Himeji Castle -- are all national treasures. By designating a person a "living embodiment" of a national treasure, one is led to believe that such a figure himself would surely be equivalent to the aforementioned symbols of Japanese culture. Unfortunately, this is far from truth.

The truth is this -- there is no such thing as a "Living National Treasure." It does not exist. If one visits the Agency for Cultural Affairs website, a subsection of the Ministry of Education and Science, one will not find the phrase on its pages, nor will they find a mention of it in any official document composed by the government. To put it bluntly, a Living National Treasure is a non sequitur. It is myth.

Then what were Kaneshige and Arakawa? Essential to tackling this question is the 1954 Cultural Property Preservation Act, and the phrase "Important Intangible Cultural Property" contained within it. The term "Living National Treasure" is merely a colloquial one coined by a newspaper journalist in 1955 to both simplify and mystify the official but clunky title "Important Intangible Cultural Property." Many Japanese are aroused by the glamour of "treasure," not "cultural property." Hence, the ingenuity behind the phrase. It both captivates and misleads the public eye.

Those persons designated with this distinction are not "Important Intangible Cultural Property" themselves. Rather, Kaneshige and Arakawa were "holders" or "protectors" of an important but intangible cultural property of Japan. In Kaneshige's case Bizen, in Arakawa's case, Shino. To put it simply, the Living National Treasure system is but a law designating some endangered thing for preservation, something akin to preserving forests or saving whales -- only in this case, we are saving something that is intangible, of cultural importance, and is held within the hands of certain individuals.

The cultural property being preserved is not the man, but the technique or style of pottery he creates. The man is not the treasure; rather, the treasure is the style of pottery. For example, Miwa Kyusetsu XI is not an important intangible cultural property (IICP); rather, he was designated the protector of an IICP (Hagi); it is his obligation to see that the traditional techniques behind IICP are passed onto the next generation (this may strike one as funny, as his son Miwa Kyusetsu XII is anything but the protector of Hagi). Likewise, Shimaoka Tatsuzo's Jomon-zogan (rope-patterns) and Matsui Kosei's Neriage (the technique of mixing different clay textures together) are eligible for protection. Emphasis is placed on a potter's "technique."

Yet, to ignore the fact that we attach great importance to the phrase "Living National Treasure" is like shutting one's eyes from an eminent truth. We do not just look at a man's technique. We look at his product, his art. The works are works we wish to emulate. The works are desired for the status imparted by owning them. To us, the person should be paramount.

But if one may recall, the actual legal statute has nothing to do with honoring or awarding someone a title; the IICP system was not intended to praise individual potters, but was intended to protect an individual potter's craft. If so, then why do we hold a preconceived and flawed image of what a Living National Treasure is supposed to embody?

Both confusion and frustration abound within the LNT system. Prominent voices in the ceramic art world talk of reforming or abolishing the system altogether. Yet before descanting the relevancy of the law, we must first quell the misinformation surrounding the Living National Treasure system, not only for bettering one's understanding of the Japanese art world, but for the betterment of the Japanese art world itself.

Of Law and Politics
Perhaps it is essential to begin with the history behind the Cultural Property Preservation Act. It is, quite frankly, the beginning to all the problems behind the current Living National Treasure system.

The original act, enacted in 1950, was specifically intended to "preserve such important Japanese heritage that, without government protection, will decline and fall to ruin." The law's purpose, thus, was to preserve the traditions and traditional techniques of Japanese arts and craft. In no way was the law intended to be an award that confers a higher status to an artist for contributions to his art, nor did the law designate the artist himself as a treasure; rather, the treasure was the traditional techniques he possessed. The law was not to praise, but to protect.

The 1950 statute states that "intangible cultural property, such as theatre, music, crafts etc., which to our country is of high historical and/or artistic value," will be deemed "intangible cultural property" and will be "eligible for protection."

All intangible Japanese things possessing high historical and/or artistic value were considered intangible cultural properties. Of course, there are many things in Japan that have high historical and/or artistic value, and thus this definition was subject to criticisms of broadness and inability to discern what property is really of value, both historically and artistically.

1954 brought an amendment to the 1950 Cultural Property Preservation Act by adding the word "important" to "intangible cultural property." This was intended to weed out the "unimportant" aspects of a particular art. For example, Satsuma-yaki is an intangible cultural property, yet it is not designated for protection due to its smaller impact upon Japanese culture as a whole (yet aren't smaller kiln sites in greater need of protection from extinction?). On the other hand, Shino and Bizen are considered "important intangible cultural properties," and those individuals with masterful technique are designated as holders of "important intangible cultural properties."

How is an "important intangible cultural property" selected? The Cultural Property Preservation Act states that the Minister of Science and Education appoints LNTs. The Minister makes his decision based on the proposals of the Committee for Cultural Property Preservation, comprised of academics and members of the Agency of Cultural Affairs. It is this Committee which debates, discovers, and researches potential candidates for IICP status. They gather their information from small regional committees throughout Japan. In fact, these regional committees are similar to lobbyists that try to promote their respective prefectures by pushing a regional potter for LNT status. Receiving such a status will bring fame, prestige, and tourists to local kiln sites associated with the potter. Unfortunately, this process has become one reason for the politics and discontent behind LNTs.

This politicization is further seen in the long rivalry between two Japanese institutions: the Japanese Traditional Arts and Crafts Exhibition (Nihon Dento Kogeiten) on the one hand, the Japan Fine Arts Exhibition (Nitten) on the other. The former predominantly exhibits works associated with traditional kiln sites and craft art, while the latter features a more eclectic, modern selection of potters and pots. In fact, the "puppet-master" behind the LNT selection process is the Japanese Traditional Arts and Crafts Exhibition. The Exhibition and the Committee for Cultural Property Preservation are intertwined, and it is now a silent truth that only potters associated with the Japanese Traditional Arts and Crafts Exhibition will be designated LNT's. Nitten potters (and conceptual ceramic art, for example) are excluded altogether, and the highest award for a Nitten potter is being named a Fellow of the Japan Art Academy (Nihon Geijutsuin Kain), an institution with the "purpose of honoring artists for their contributions to art." Itaya Hazan, Kusube Yaichi, and Ohi Chozaemon are examples of Fellows. Undoubtedly, a "Fellowship" hardly receives the same fame and reputation as a "Living Treasure." This is unfortunate, as the "Fellowship" is a full-fledged award honoring potters for their artistic merit, not for the preservation of traditional techniques.

Of Purpose and Practice
Perhaps it is optimism that leads me to believe that Bizen will never die out. The Japanese government does not seem to share my opinion, as the Ministry of Education has designated four "Living National Treasures" from Bizen alone -- the most out of all Important Intangible Cultural Treasures. Surely, this should imply that Bizen is on the brink of extinction. Yet, I think it's more than obvious that this isn't the case. There are pottery centers that are in far more dire straights, but have yet to muster a LNT from its ranks. Echizen is a good example.

This becomes strong evidence for the fact that preservation is not the only premise for selection, and that the committee choosing LNTs are not merely looking for vanguards of tradition. Naming four Bizen LNTs gives way to their true intent. They are praising the artist and his art. Or are they just bringing home the notion that Bizen is four times as important as other kiln sites or traditional techniques? This notion is hard to swallow. If we go against the initial raison d'etre of the system and use it as a reward for contributions to art, past selections will make sense. But at the same time, acknowledging LNTs as a type of reward will be a refutation of its initial purpose of saving traditional art and techniques from "decline and ruin." Ultimately, smaller kiln sites will fade away like shadows on a cloudy day. (2008 update: now there is a 5th LNT for Bizen, with Isezaki Jun gaining recognition!)

But at the same time, the 2001 LNTs were, to put it crudely, straight from the kiln. Many a voice could be heard mumbling that the potters were actually big CEOs of "business-oriented" kiln sites, and were but victors of the politics behind the selection process.

If one carefully reads the statute, the selection process appears flawless and on the mark. If the intent of the law is to preserve and protect, the techniques and traditions of Arita and Kutani are well worth protecting. Even if the artists named are not often found on top of collectors' wish lists, their traditional techniques give them a quality worth recognizing. If the law's purpose is to preserve and protect technique, the discontent should be quieted.

It seems we have jumped back on the right path. Why, then, the frustrated voices pleading for something more?

That "something more" is symbolized by the early LNTs, like Kaneshige and Arakawa -- legendary potters with amazing technique and the utmost in artistic excellence. Living Treasure? You bet. We don't want to simply preserve technique. We long to praise worthy artists.

Thus, we sometimes find an odd conundrum at play. The more we strive to fulfill the law's original intent (protecting potters whose art may die out), the less we reward potters for artistic creativity. The less we heed the law's original intent (hence ignoring the preservation of traditional technique), the more we might reward potters we want to praise for artistic excellence. With the present law, it can be difficult to gratify its intentions and our inner wishes at the same time. Something has got to give.

Of course, the legal connotations are not always negative. Ito Sekisui, the latest addition to the LNT club, well illustrates the idea that the Cultural Property Preservation Act actually works. Ito Sekisui is undoubtedly a kiln-site CEO. But at the same time, his kiln site, located on tiny Sado Island, is not exactly a tourist destination, and its traditional technique of Mumyo-yaki (see photo at right) is truly endangered. Designating Ito as LNT brings tourists and publicity to a small locality, and at the same time, it preserves the tradition of an island's craft. On top of this, the government is recognizing the artistic contributions of Ito Sekisui. Praise and protection, therefore, do not automatically contradict, for conferring LNT status to a dilapidated kiln-site or to a near-dead traditional technique can also be recognizing its high artistic value.

Perhaps the ambiguity would have been cleared if not for the premature deaths of Yagi Kazuo and Kamoda Shoji. Not only did Yagi Kazuo possess great technique and skill with clay, he made challenging, avant-garde works that sent shock waves through the art world. He deserved every bit of respect for his work with Sodeisha, yet the nature of his work would commonly suggest awarding him a Fellowship of the Art Academy, not entitling him a LNT. If he was designated a LNT for "avant-garde" yakimono, it would be clear to all that the law has changed its course. Not merely the preservation of traditional technique, but the rewarding of artistic merit and new techniques -- is this not what a LNT system should strive for?

Likewise, Koie Ryoji received the most votes in the Toujiro magazine's "Critics Poll of Contemporary Ceramists" in 2002 -- which asked "who do we want as LNT" in 2002. As the conundrum maintains, if it is merely traditional techniques we seek to have protected, it is highly unlikely that Koie will ever be designated. Yet if the law were also to be an award recognizing artistic creativity, excellence, and contribution to the ceramic art world, Koie would undoubtedly be head of the nomination process.

Kawai Kanjiro and Rosanjin refused the LNT -- Kawai because he was too humble, Rosanjin because he did not want to belittle himself by tagging a label that associated himself to his "apprentice" Arakawa and his disgust for Hamada Shoji and the Mingei Movement. If these potters had accepted, one might make a stronger claim for the fact that the award is also based on merit and artistic excellence.

I find it only natural for fans of pottery to want "Living Treasures." We relish the mystique behind the idea. But if we are to continue the current system, we must stop the idolatry and exaggerated status of LNTs and follow the law -- to preserve and pass on, not to praise and honor. If we long for a reward system backed by the government that recognizes significant contributions to ceramic art, the Agency for Cultural Affairs should make an award that is independent from the protection of intangible cultural properties. Yet if we are to honor, why ask for government intervention in the first place? A non-government organization should suffice, although it is hard to ignore our love for "authenticity" and the "official-ness" behind a government stamp. In the meantime, there is no denying the transformation of the "Important Intangible Cultural Property" system into an art Hall of Fame. This does not necessitate despair. Let us simply hope for clarity and consistency, as well as a strict eye for quality, in regards to future LNT selections.

by Aoyama Wahei 青山和平 (2004/02/26)

(Vermillon Lacquer Two-Part Bowl by Suzuki Mutsumi)


Tanizaki Junichiro (谷崎潤一郎1886-1965) is unquestionably one of the greatest Japanese novelists of all time. I first stumbled upon his twisted eroticism in the short story titled Shisei (刺青 The Tattoo 1910), in which a tattoo master’s domination over his “creation” (in this case, a young girl) is unexpectedly usurped, and ultimately, turned against him. I was 17 or so when I first read Shisei, and was floored. Hungry for more, I quickly picked up Chijin no Ai (痴人の愛 Naomi 1924), Manji (卍 1930), and soon after, Inei Raisan (陰影礼賛 In Praise of Shadows 1933).

In Praise of Shadows is not a novel; rather, it is the
author's musings on aesthetics, or in particular, the beauty within traditional Japanese sensibilities and ways of life. Perhaps it was Tanizaki's attempt to criticize and lament the diffusion of Western things into Japanese life. In any event, it is a tour de force, and for anyone interested in Japanese culture, it is essential reading.

I hadn't read In Praise of Shadows since college, and rather nostalgically, I happened to pick up a dusty copy on my bookshelf the other day. Flipping through the pages (in this case, the English version), I found an interesting excerpt in regards to Tanizaki’s love for lacquerware. Although many of my clients are aficionados of ceramics, I find that there are also a growing number of clients who are deeply enamoured by the subtle beauty of Japanese lacquer. It is an artform that is in many ways much more austere and sublime than ceramic ware, and I have had a difficult time (for example at Collect) to teach buyers on its aesthetics. In such a light, I find that Tanizaki's words will be more than sufficient to enlighten and enrich our understanding of lacquerware. And thus, I present these words to you.

Tanizaki Junichiro, Excerpt from “In Praise of Shadows”

...Ceramic ware is sufficient to use as dishware, but it lacks the shadows and depth possessed by lacquerware. Ceramic ware is heavy and cold to the touch. With high-thermal conductivity, it is inconvenient for serving hot food, and it also clatters and clinks. To the contrary, lacquerware is soft and light to the touch, and seldom emits any irritating sound. Nothing gives me more pleasure than holding a lacquered soup bowl in the palms of my hands and feeling the weight and warmth of the soup. It is like holding a newborn baby and feeling the softness of the skin. It is natural that lacquerware is still used for soup bowls, since the same effects and qualities cannot be achieved by ceramics. A ceramic bowl immediately reveals all of the content and colours of the soup once the lid is removed. The good thing about lacquerware is that there is an emotional encounter in the process of using it: From the moment the lid is open until the bowl is lifted to the lips, one gazes at the still liquid silently sitting in the depth of the bowl. The dark colour of the liquid is hardly distinguishable from the colour of the bowl. However, one senses that something lies within the darkness, and one can feel the warmth and gentle movement of the soup in the palm. The rim of the bowl slightly sweating, one senses that the vapour is rising from inside, which carries the delicate aroma of the soup. Even before
one's lips touch the soup, one can vaguely anticipate the flavour that awaits.


(Akebono Lacquered Pentagonal Bowl by Suzuki Mutsumi)

With a bowl of soup before me, I feel as if I am being drawn into the blissful state of nothingness. I hear the faint sound like a soft insect’s buzz from afar and contemplate the flavour of the ensuing food. The feeling is similar to what a tea master must experience when preparing tea beside a boiling kettle. Thinking of the famous pine trees of Onoe, he enters into the state of nothingness, that blissful absence from feeling either pleasure or pain through the pure extinction of personal existence. It is often said that Japanese cuisine delights the eyes, not the palate, but I would go further to say that it is an object to be meditated upon. It is a silent music, a duet of lacquerware and the flickering candlelight in the darkness. Natsume Soseki praises the colour of yokan (sweet bean jelly) in his Pillow of Grass. It is indeed a colour to induce meditation. The opaquely translucent, silky skin of the yokan, which is similar to jade, absorbs the light of the sun, allowing it to penetrate deep within before emitting it as a faint, dreamlike glow. Its profound complexity of colour cannot be found in any Western confections. When yokan is served on a lacquered tray, whose darkness envelops the original colour of the yokan, making it barely distinguishable, the mind is coaxed into gentle reflection. Taking this cool, silky morsel into your mouth, you feel as if all the darkness of the room has been condensed into this sweet, luscious delicacy, which melts on your tongue. Generally speaking, in any country, the colour of the food is arranged so as to harmonize with the colour of the tableware or surrounding walls. Japanese food, in particular, emphasizes this aspect, and if it is served in white or pale dishware in a brightly lit room, the appetite will be reduced by half. Cooked rice looks more beautiful and appetizing when served in a black-lacquer lidded rice container in a dark room. When the lid is deftly opened, the freshly cooked rice, heaped in the black lacquered container, appears before our eyes, emitting warm steam, with each grain glittering like a pearl. This is a moment when all Japanese people cannot help but be moved. Thus, Japanese cuisine is always based upon shadows, and is inextricable from darkness.



(Akebono Lacquer Dish by Suzuki Mutsumi)


Of course, we probably all hold different opinions in regards to Tanizaki's musings. For example, lacquer is indeed beautiful for soups and warm dishes, but does it work as well with cold dishes? I must say, however, that I’ve been to several fine sushi restaurants where the sushi was served on black lacquered trays or counters, and this was excellent indeed. At the same time, lacquerware cannot match the majestic qualities of ceramic ware in regards to tea: lacquerware is not used for drinking tea, but for serving kaiseki (Japanese cuisine). In this regard, perhaps ceramic ware will always hold a special status in traditional Japanese culture. But moreover, perhaps it is an empty exercise to compare ceramics with lacquerware in the first place: both have their place in Japanese life, and it is up to us to determine when one ware is more appropriate than the other.

On such a note, I end this blog.

From eastern skies,

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited



PS
I was at a loss of words the other day when I was at an extremely expensive and legendary Japanese restaurant (world-famous, actually) to find that the lacquerware they were using were made out of plastic. Has it come to this?

After returning from London, I was happy to find a preview copy of Honoho Geijutsu's latest issue jammed into my overflowing mailbox, in large part due to the fact that from this issue, I had undertaken to become the translator for its much-expanded English section, together with helping out with the translation of my friend and mentor Robert Yellin's English article into Japanese.

Confessions are in order -a large part of my fascination and education in Japanese ceramics directly came from reading each and every copy of Honoho's back issues during my apprenticeship at Robert's Mishima gallery. Like a hungry child, I basically devoured every word, image and detail in their pages, and with a rather-decent memory, I essentially memorized the history and progression of Japan's ceramics -as told by Honoho- by heart.

Of course, memorizing the preachings of magazines and books is hardly satisfactory or sufficient when it comes to the evaluation of a work's quality -actually interacting with works first-hand at Robert's gallery and my father's was what really trained my eye- yet to have a hard drive full of facts in one's own brain does come in handy when writing and talking about ceramics, as well as when evaluating a work (to a certain extent).

In any case, the sense of euphoria which had swept me when first reading the pages of Honoho is no more, and with good reason. There's simply nothing new in its pages to be excited for, other than, perhaps, added English content which is of no joy to myself, its translator.

The problem is clear -Honoho no longer pursues the topic of yakimono from a dynamic and ambitious focus on current trends and issues, but rather is quite content in re-selling issues by recycling the same content every year.

Take this particular issue (#93) with its focus on Bizen. After reading through it, I was numbed by the fact that they have hardly evolved from their last issue on Bizen (#84). The issue before that (#67, I believe) was still more interesting than this current issue.

Contemporary Bizen has had a few revolutionaries -Isezaki for his resurrection of the anagama during the heydey of the noborigama, Kakurezaki for his forms, Abe for his theories into Momoyama-Bizen and evidenced by his firing and clay processing techniques, and Mori for his ambitious pursuit of recreating the o-gama.

But what comes next? Nothing is alluded to within the pages of Honoho, and the reader is left hanging with the sense that Bizen is at a standstill.

Perhaps it is not Honoho that frustrates me, but is Bizen itself. There are too many artists preoccupied with imitation, and far too few who are interested in breaking new grounds and advancing the cause for genuine innovation. A bleak future is in store for Bizen if a new star does not come around to transcend the works of its current stars -Isezaki, Kakurezaki, Abe, Mori, and Harada.

I speak not as an art dealer but as a passionate fan of one of Japan's greatest kiln sites.

Let us look ahead to the future, and not simply dwell on past glories.

With a touch of sadness,

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited

Needless to say, Collect 2008 was incredible. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I would like to sincerely thank each and every person who had helped us in making our debut participation at Collect such an astounding success.

We sold virtually all works that were put on display, and I believe this is fine testament not only to the calibre of art and artists we had chosen for the show, but also to the ever-growing potential for Japanese art throughout Europe.

The time is indeed ripe for the world to recognise the beauty made from Japanese hands and heart.

Deep gratitude is firstly and rightly sent to none other than our six exceptional artists who so graciously heeded our wishes and fulfilled our expectations by providing us with work that were nothing less than sublime.

Deep gratitude to all the staff at Collect, including the Craft Council, G&W and Stabilo, for helping us with the smooth operation of our stand.

Deep gratitude to the fine curators at the Victoria & Albert Museum, who chose two of our artists, Takeyama Naoki and Mihara Ken, to have the great honour of being acquired by the Museum for its Permanent Collection.
Well done to Takeyama-san and Mihara-san!

And lastly, I would like to thank each and every visitor who took the time to visit our stand and cherish the works that were exhibited. Your kind comments and eager enthusiasm for our art helped warm our hearts, making the toils of many months of preparation and hard work melt away like summer snow.

Kansha, kansha, kansha.

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited


Hakutai by Takeyama Naoki
Permanent Collection
Victoria & Albert Museum


Kigen by Mihara Ken
Permanent Collection
Victoria & Albert Museum
(Apologies for the lack of a better image of this fine work)

(Entrance to the V&A)


(Reception at the V&A)


(Our booth)


(My dad and a Nagae piece which was nominated for an award)





We've been so overwhelmed with new clients and visitors that we hardly have had time to take photos of our stand during the show. It seems we should have brought more work, as we're now nearly sold out and are faced with having to take orders on popular artists. Two more days to go, but I believe it's safe to say we've had much success at our first participation at Collect.

Will write more after I've recuperated.

With best regards from London,

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited

(Mihara Ken, Kigen, 2007)

Akemashite omedeto gozaimasu.

We quickly find ourselves in 2008, and oh how time flies. I've spent a good half year in preparations for the upcoming Collect show, and as the art fair is now less than a week until opening day, I've been swamped with last minute preparations.

But much more than the vicissitudes of stress or fear or anxiety, a positive adrenaline pumps through my veins, and all of us at Toku/Yufuku are sincerely excited to be a part of the show. We're proud to hold a special opportunity to be able to show to the world, firsthand, true works of contemporary Japanese beauty, and such, in itself, is a culmination and materialization of our life work.

We've built a fantastic collection of works to show on display, and from the response we've received from those who have taken a peek at our official previews, we're judging the show a success even before its opening.

For those who had missed receiving an original copy of our official Collect 2008 catalogue, you can Download it for your viewing pleasure. I've written every commentary, and I hope they help to elucidate the works by our artists. Of course, these are but only 6 of the 30 or so works we will be exhibiting at Collect, so please expect to find a wide array of beautiful objects to be held, touched, and caressed by visitors to our stand.

Our team leaves for London tomorrow. I'll be sure to bring up-to-the-minute updates regarding our stand when we arrive, and will definitely upload quite a few images of the exhibition floor as the show progresses.

Yet before my departure, there are a few ceramic shows in Tokyo that I'd like to bring your attention to.


(Kato Kozo) (Hayashi Kuniyoshi)


(Kakurezaki Ryuichi) (Maeta Akihiro)

The Japan Ceramic Society's Annual Exhibition that features the works of past award winners will be held this year at the classic Kochukyo from February 4th to the 9th. I think the show is an adequate introduction to surveying the art of what many pundits believe to be "worthy." Of course, accolades don't necessitate good art, and nepotistic politics often help blurry what really should be recognized. But for all its flaws, it still provides a compelling view of Japanese ceramics today.

Below are images of the work of Hayashi Kuniyoshi (林邦佳 1949- ), one of my personal favorites.



Lastly, a young ceramic artist that may be bound for greater things is Hattori Makiko (服部真紀子 1984- ).



She's currently having a exhibition at the INAX Galleria Ceramica in Kyobashi until February 2nd. Please take a look. I was quite enamored with her work, and look forward to seeing more of Hattori's art in the near future.

I will be sure to write again when we arrive in London. Until then, I send my best regards from Eastern Skies.

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited

(Itsukushima Shrine, Hiroshima -a National Treasure and UNESCO World Heritage Site)

Time flies much too soon, and we soon find ourselves at the twilight of a year that will soon become just another page in the story of life. And at the same time, we find ourselves at the dawn of a new year, of another future, of starting anew with hopes for more beautiful things to come.

I hope that 2007 had been as special a year for you as it has been for me.

2007 marked the birth of Toku Art - 'twas was a small yet important first step for us, and was one that will remain imbedded in our memory for many years to come.

We will only continue to grow in 2008, and I assure you, there will be many surprises in store for our future, some surprises that we believe will be quite exciting for those with a penchant for Japanese ceramics in particular. We extend our deep appreciation and gratitude to all who have helped and supported us along the way, and we humbly ask for your continued guidance and support as Toku Art enters its 2nd year of life.

From all of us at Toku Art Limited, we wish you a very happy New Year.

良いお年を！

Wahei and Namiko Aoyama
青山和平・南海子
Toku Art Limited

Toku Art and Yufuku to Exhibit at COLLECT 2008 in V&A Museum London!

Toku Art, along with its partner Yufuku Gallery, are proud to announce their official participation in the upcoming Collect 2008, the premier European international art fair for contemporary applied and decorative objects.

The exhibition will be held at London's venerable Victoria & Albert Museum, the world's largest museum for applied art and design, from January 25th (Friday) to the 29th (Tuesday).

Toku Art/Yufuku's booth number is 20, to be found in a central location within Gallery 39.

At the show, we will be presenting the latest works by the following artists.

Ichino Masahiko (Tamba Stoneware)
Mihara Ken (Sekki Stoneware)
Nagae Shigekazu (Seto Porcelain)
Suzuki Mutsumi (Kyoto Lacquer)
Takeyama Naoki (Shippo Cloisonne Metalwork)
Yede Takahiro (Woven Metalwork)

Collect 2008 will be the first time Toku Art/Yufuku will exhibit at an international art fair, and all of us are extremely excited to be able to present the finest contemporary Japanese art directly to the European market.

We sincerely look forward to seeing you at our booth this January.

In the meantime, all of us at Toku Art and Yufuku wish you a very merry and heartwarming holiday season, full of good health, spirits, and much laughter.

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited

(For any inquiries on Collect 2008, please email us at info@toku-art.com )

I believe it was the end of October. I was invited by the father-in-law of a dear friend to dinner at Trader Vic's at the New Otani. My friend's father-in-law had wished to introduce me to an artist from Kyoto who he had been friends with and collected for well over 30 years. The artist's name was Matsumoto Isami (松本爲佐視 1931- ).

I did not know of the ceramicist before, but as curiosity often times leads to wonderful discoveries, I looked forward to the introduction with my usual enthusiasm. Matsumoto-sensei, I was later told, had exhibited numerously at classy Wako and had won a mind-boggling number of awards at the Nitten and other exhibitions from 1955. In fact, Matsumoto had arrived from Kyoto as a judge for the Nitten contest, a post he's held for several years.

After the artist arrived and we sat down to a rather sumptuous dinner, I soon discovered that Matsumoto-sensei was a grand old man, 76 years in age, who was adamantly humble, elegantly gracious, and flowing with the passion for life and art.

This meeting soon led to my wife and I visiting his kiln in Kyoto near Yusenji and south of Gojozaka, a home to many traditional Kyoto potters for generations, in early November.

To my surprise, Matsumoto's seihakuji porcelain works (blue-white porcelain, which is essentially porcelain clay with clear glaze that turns blue after conjoining with the iron content of the clay) were the culmination of immaculate technique and artistry, and in a sense, were representative of what Nitten stands for today -both progressive innovation in technique coupled with a grandeur, or shall I say, grand size, which is what is often times required to win at ceramic competitions in present-day Japan (for better or for worse).







Matsumoto's works reveal the same graceful and elegant traits as the man himself. But they also reveal an indebtedness to the works of his teacher, the legendary Nitten artist Kusube Yaichi （楠部彌弌 1897-1984), who Matsumoto apprenticed to at the age of 22.


(Kusube Yaichi incense burner)

Perhaps the lineage can be drawn from the use of floral motifs in much the same vein as Kusube. However, wherein Kusube often paints or etches the designs onto his clay bodies, Matsumoto in fact wields the more-difficult technique of dobe-mori, wherein powdered porcelain clay is brushed upon the facade of a piece in multiple layers. Thus each flower motif is the work of clay brushstrokes which ultimately result in a 3-dimensional relief.

One can only imagine the painstaking time and care that is instilled in creating a single motif. What is even more mind-boggling is the fact that Matsumoto's works are nearly 40cm tall and 30cm wide for a porcelain tsubo.







Quite gratefully, this deai (chance meeting) with Matsumoto-sensei reminded me of an important truth -that one should never fail to keep one's eyes wide open to all forms of beauty, with the mind shorn from empty preconceptions. Thus in essence, the state of tabula rasa is so very important in this day and age, a time where we are drenched in wired information.

Name value can hardly discern the difference between good and bad art, if such a distinction could be drawn at all. To make a bold statement, several Living National Treasures are far from inspiring. Yet the status itself bestows upon their names a sense of awe, wonder, and a questionable veil of authority.

We should keep our minds and hearts open to artists like Matsumoto, who for 55 years have led the Kyoto ceramic scene, yet for very little recognition outside of Nitten and smaller ceramic circles.

Porcelain is often associated with elegance and perfection. Such elements were fully present in the work of Matsumoto Isami.

From eastern skies,

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited

For inquiries on availability and prices regarding Matsumoto Isami's work, please contact info@toku-art.com

It was as if I had wandered into someone else's technicolor dream. Or straight into the twisted mind of a debonair genius. Kawabata Kentaro's (川端健太郎 1976- ) animated, organic porcelain works, currently on display at the Savoir Vivre Gallery in Roppongi from December 1st to the 9th, were, by far, some of the most sensational and imaginative ceramic art I've seen from an artist his age in quite some time.

These are tall words based on admittedly little knowledge of the artist himself, but words that I would stand by with complete and utter confidence. Kawabata displays a distinctive flair for and understanding of ceramics that may very well place him in the same legacy as some of the legendary potters of the past and present.



His works are at once full of life and in bloom, with seeds springing into blossoming flowers, with glassy glaze twinkling to the light as if jewels imbedded into clay. But at the same time, inherent is a frightening, horrific vision of beauty through decay and dilapidation, with bulbs falling apart, with jagged edges and rims, glaze flowing into a sea of eternity.

In other, yet perhaps far more obscure words, I find in Kawabata's works an irresistable, perhaps insatiable struggle between two eternal elements - the seductive pull of Eros and her iridescent energy of life and love, pitted against her bitter enemy Thanatos and the solemn power of death.




There indeed seems to be a duality in his work. On one hand can we find symbolic leitmotifs materialized in fragile porcelain objets du art, whereas on the other hand, functionality is highlighted within his brilliant hanging flower vases, mizusashi jars and tokkuri-style vases.

Porcelain made through hand-pinching is not common. Yet it is the technique that helps Kawabata to experiment and discover his own unique voice in clay. It is the technique that led Kawabata to find the innovative method of crushing colored glass and sprinkling them atop of thinly stretched porcelain clay. The collaboration between glass crystals and porcelain is superb, and is an evolutional experiment that transcends the common standing of glaze, which is also, in essence, glass.




His voluptious forms limn a playful and organic eroticism that calls to mind the works of the Vienna Secession combined with the innocence of Fujihira Shin (藤平伸 1922- ) and the inflorescence of Sugiura Yasuyoshi (杉浦康益 1949- ). Kawabata is, quite simply, a virtuoso in terms of imagination and possessing the technique to realize such an imagination. These two traits are a priori requisites for great artists, and I was pleasantly surprised to find these elements residing in his art.




Kawabata places great emphasis on Shinsha red glaze （辰砂）, a favorite of the brilliant Kyoto potter Kawai Kanjiro (河合寛次郎 1890-1966), and intersperses this glaze in his works, along with selenium glaze which produces the milky orange found in his more recent works.

Perhaps the red Shinsha is the link that connects Kawabata to his own ceramic heroes of the past. Yet far from sheer nolstagia, Kawabata wields the glaze with visceral adroitness.




Notice also that his porcelain is translucent when held up to light. The glassy jewels of his works pass light much like stained glass, glistening in incandescent splendor. It is an aesthetic that is far from traditional Japanese beauty, yet this in no way implicates his works to that of the West.

Rather, Kawabata's works are the manifestation of his own inner self. And without question, it is an aesthetic that shall grow in stature and recognition with the passing of time.




With an impressive array of accolades for his age, from winning the Grand Prize at the "Heart of Oribe" Exhibition in 2001, receiving the Kamoda Shoji Prize at the Mashiko Ceramics Competition in 2004, and landing the Grand Prix at the Paramita Museum Ceramics Exhibition in 2007, all eyes are now on this up-and-coming artist.

This reviewer's expectations were greatly surpassed at Kawabata's latest exhibition. With no doubt in my mind do I expect that future expections would continue to be conquered and further hearts won over by this young artist.

We look forward to bringing you more of Kawabata Kentaro's works from Toku Art in 2008.

From eastern skies,

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited

by Kawakami Tomoko (川上智子 1957- )
1. Moku07-1（黙 Silence) 800,000 yen 59cm×64cm×h53cm
2. Moku06　 (黙 Silence） 500,000 yen 27cm×27cm×h63.5cm

Female ceramic artists in Japan often do not receive the attention they deserve. Obstacles often obstruct their path to success -a male-dominated and overly-conservative heierarchy within ceramic circles is but one yet massive hurdle that they must overcome.

In the 53 years that the Japan Ceramic Society has given out awards for their very own "Most Important Ceramic Artist of the Year" awards, only 7 have received the prize (please note that many years feature more than 1 award winner, thus the actual percentage of total award winners is a measely 8% or so..).

Do such inequalities reflect any sort of statement about female artists in Japan? It is hard to say, esp. as there is a wealth of very talented and world-famous female ceramic artists working in Japan today. Rather, it can be said that contemporary Japanese ceramics is entering a renaissance in terms of the emerging prominence and talent of female artists.

One such artist who receives far less recognition for her work than that which she deserves is Kawakami Tomoko (川上智子 1957- ). She has an uncanny ability to form gigantic yet ultra-thin and meditative pieces which resemble the state of serenity itself -perhaps such is why she calls her works Moku (黙), or Silence.

Notice in all her works the infinite power within their inner wells of black. Into the void and into darkness, Kawakami's work pulls the viewer into its center of gravity, freezing both time and space yet melting the heart.

Notice further the razor sharp edges of her works' mouths. Delicately chic, such subtle qualities should not pass unnoticed.

Winning the Grand Prize at the Faenza International Competition of Contemporary Ceramic Art in 2005 finally helped spread her name to foreign skies, yet I still find that she is hugely under-recognized, esp. when considering the quality of her conceptual ceramics.

We hope you enjoy these images of new works by Kawakami Tomoko.
For inquiries into acquiring these pieces, or for more photos or information, please email us at info@toku-art.com.

From eastern skies,

Wahei Aoyama 青山和平
Toku Art Limited


3. Vessel for Flowers 花のうつわ　90,000 yen 19cm×25cm×ｈ23cm