|
One year of work, thousands of soft clay sake cups thrown.
Unfired, each evenings work is cast back into the raw clay vat.
Repetition of gesture focused in time, again, again, again.
Eyes, hands and heart become as healthy breathing
All turning, turning, blending, pressing to the clay.
Simple, direct, wet, uncomplicated by thinking.
Experience forms an unformed life,
Breathing clay from morning til night -
Tears pressed in wet clay
Push, push, soft clay spiraling to center.
 (Joy Brown and Denny Cooper)
Tamba: 1975
With a major in fine art, I returned to
Japan to become an apprentice with the
family of Ichino Toshio, a thirteenth
generation potter in Tamba. Pottery in
Tamba has a continuous history for over
one thousand years, involving everyone
in the town - digging the clay, making
pots, preparing the wood for firing,
packaging and marketing the finished
pieces.
In this traditional apprenticeship all
learning was by osmosis. There was a
rigid hierarchy and I was at the bottom.
The other apprentice, Nakano-san, told
me what to do and I did it. We became
pretty good friends, sharing a difficult
time. We worked for the studio in the
day preparing the glazed ware for firing
in the wood kiln once every month. This
was production pottery, with special
pieces made by the father and sons.
Once, carrying the ware on a board
while loading the kiln, I nicked the
corner of the board sending all the pots
smashing to the ground. No one said a
word! The air was thick with silence.
|
