A conversation with Suwa Sozan

This time, we visited Suwa Sozan at their workshop in Gojozaka, Kyoto, to talk to them.
[Suwa] → Mr. Suwa Sozan [ Nishimura ] → Mr. Nishimura Ichimai, Owner of Amagimichi

[Nishimura] I started by taking photos of a celadon vase. Among the many tea ceremony utensils, the vase has the most rigorously defined form. Just a slight change in the shoulder tension, the body bulge, or the rise of the foot can dramatically change the position of the center of gravity of the flower, the shadow of the insertion hole, and even the atmosphere of the entire tea ceremony - I think it's a textbook-like world. While Mr. Suwa's vase has an extremely neat balance of these details, there is a subtle fluctuation in the viscosity of the glaze and the breathing of the wheel's wheels, and I felt that there was a soft, poetic sentiment of "space" inside the strictness. I also felt the faint fluctuation of the light that was generated when the photography light reflected on the glaze surface.


[Suwa] Thank you. In the world of tea, vessels that can be used with confidence - so to speak, "standard forms" - are also required, so for flower vases, we especially value the "feeling of familiarity and comfort." However, they are not simply copies, and there are slight changes with each generation.


[Nishimura] The perspective of continuing to change minutely is the very essence of living crafts. From the first generation to the present, how have the shape and dimensions of the vase changed, and at what moment did the "Suwa family style" come into being? For example, if the angle of the rim, the position of the ears, or the peak of the body's bulge were to move just a few millimeters, the center of gravity of the flower would change, and it would look completely different when standing on the tokonoma alcove in the tea room. I'd love to hear about it.


[Suwa] Originally, celadon vases from the Southern Song Dynasty in China came in a variety of sizes, but during the second generation's reign, we received a suggestion for "sizes suitable for tea ceremonies," and established the current standard. We remade the shape of the ears to fit the size, and fine-tuned the tension of the body and the thickness of the rim -- that's how we decided on it.


[Nishimura] What kind of tutelage and tacit knowledge did you receive from your father, the third generation potter? You said that you had limited time to receive direct instruction, but what was it like trying to interpret "your father's breath" from the sketches and prototypes he left behind, or the finger marks left on the potter's wheel? For example, did you relive your father's aesthetic sense by observing the boundary between intentionality and randomness in the details, such as the uncarved areas inside the foot, the amount of glaze that has accumulated, or the way the iron powder hidden in the base clay is scattered?

[Suwa] Actually, my father collapsed from a cerebral infarction when I was in high school, so I didn't see him working much. After acquiring the basic skills at the Kyoto Prefectural Pottery Technical College, I was taught by my father's apprentices who had become independent and by my uncle who worked next to him. After graduating from the college at the age of 24, I continued to closely observe the works left behind by the first and second generations of my father, and to decipher the "genes" of their techniques and designs. It was around that time that I learned by heart how to make the soil for the Suwa family's celadon - the mixture of iron seeds hidden in the clay - and how the mixture changes over time, something that is not taught in school. I looked at the works of my predecessors and thought about it myself when I created my works.


[Nishimura] The pink and navy marble patterns that emerge from the kneading technique are very impressive. For those complex colors to emerge as a matter of necessity, not by chance, I think it requires advanced techniques to simultaneously control multiple variables, such as the plasticity of the clay, the size of the pigment particles, the amount of water, the number of revolutions of the potter's wheel, and even the timing of carving. The pink bands floating like a thin sea of ​​clouds, with navy blue flowing lines running above them like air currents in the night sky, make it seem as if you are looking at a mineral specimen that contains a microcosm.

[Suwa] Pink was introduced in my generation. The pigment itself was developed in the early Showa period, but the color changes depending on how it is layered and how it is ground with water. I have never seen my father make it, so I make it while guessing at my predecessor. The unique appeal of porcelain is that it is carved evenly on both the outside and inside, and the more you carve, the more the pattern "emerges". It is difficult to stop at the right point. Apart from the exhibition, there are many tea masters who make "custom orders". Some people say they want something in celadon. When I make such a piece and show it to them, I get nervous, wondering if I have made something that will come true.

[Nishimura] It's the "closeness between maker and user" that is unique to Kyoto. I feel that this closeness is the true essence of the "interactive craftsmanship" that has been cultivated in Kyoto, the capital of a thousand years. Motifs of space and stars often appear in Mr. Suwa's works, and I am very interested in when that grand theme became linked to his style. I was struck by the wonderful intersection of scientific curiosity and aesthetic sensibility, not only in projecting star charts onto the surface of the vessel, but also in expressing the rotation of a spiral galaxy and the faint glow of a nebula with glaze tones.

[Suwa] There are many different types of pottery made in Kyoto, and my family mainly produces celadon, but there are also people who say they want to see something that is not the celadon that the Suwa family produces, and it is fun to respond to their expectations. I remember that it all started when I exhibited "Constellation Tea Bowls" at my second solo exhibition at Takashimaya, seven years after I took on the name. Since I was a child, I have been attracted to the starry sky and physical phenomena in the universe - the vortexes of galaxies and the colors of nebulae. I also liked climbing onto roofs to look at the colors of the sunset.

[Nishimura] Indeed, the pale pink cloud-like coloring is reminiscent of the moment when the crimson and purple that dye the western sky blend together just after sunset. When this is combined with the blue-green color unique to celadon porcelain, the gradation of the sky is trapped inside the vessel, and when you pour matcha into it, it feels like a "green planet" is emerging.

[Suwa] In images from the Hubble Space Telescope, the Orion Nebula appears pinkish. Pink is not often used in tea ceremonies, but when a celadon glaze is applied on top, it blends in gently and harmonizes with the green of matcha. It has been more than 20 years since it was released, but it has been a long-selling product and is actually getting more attention now. I am happy when elderly tea masters say that it makes their heart flutter. I named this series "Hoshitan" (star birth). I think it can also be likened to a sunset or sunrise.

[Nishimura] This piece depicting a crescent moon is also fascinating. Expressing the sharp glow of the crescent moon and the delicate shadows it casts with just the flow of the glaze and the curves of the base is a true example of the art of simplicity. If you put too much effort into it, it becomes vulgar, but if you hold back too much, it becomes mediocre - I wonder how much trial and error it must have taken to maintain that fine balance.


[Suwa] I previously made a "shooting star" tea bowl using openwork, but it is difficult to create a lot of openwork in celadon, so I made it a crescent moon. A real "crescent moon" can only be seen on the third day of the lunar calendar, low in the western sky just after sunset. In Chinese, it is also written as "moon fang," and I hope you can feel its thin, fleeting beauty that seems as if it could disappear at any moment.

[Nishimura] This is where the Japanese Zen "beauty of restraint" comes into play, creating a scene that only those who understand will notice. Beauty without over-expression - the very pinnacle of Japanese sensibility. By avoiding excessive explanation and leaving room for the viewer's imagination, the vessels begin a "silent dialogue." Moreover, this can only be achieved with advanced techniques and an understanding of the materials.

[Suwa] The novelist Kenichi Yamamoto (Ask Rikyu), who had seen the Hotarude constellation tea bowls, soon turned them into a short story. A few days after my three-way discussion, he came to Takashimaya to see my work, and wrote a story about a female potter who makes colored Hotarude teacups for his serialization, "Eemon Hitotsu." I will never forget the moment my work became a novel. I was very happy when I was sent the copy of All Yomimono magazine in which the novel was published.

[Nishimura] It's not an essay, it's a novel. A vessel gives birth to literature -- what a romantic cycle. The "still life" of the vessel acquires the "flow of time" of a story, and returns to the viewer's hands, evoking new emotions. It's truly art.

[Suwa] The idea came from the "Glowing Constellations Edition" that I looked at as a child. That's why children love it too. The stars and the moon carry stories that transcend generations.

[Nishimura] The clay tones in your other works besides the celadon are beautifully balanced. By using Karatsu clay alone and carefully examining its compatibility with feldspar glazes, and deliberately making use of the iron spots and stone cracks in the clay surface, the neat porcelain form and the simple expression of the clay compete with each other - the tension is magnificent.

[Suwa] I received some clay from Karatsu from a person who does pottery as a hobby, and I use it to apply a feldspar glaze. Good clay has power, and it helps me a lot. In honor of the new moon, or "black moon," I am also experimenting with a matte black glaze. The tea bowl I named Yuzuki (Yuzuki) because it has a slightly concave lip is a favorite shape from when my mother, my three sisters, and I held an exhibition together, with the theme "Shapes of Heaven and Earth."


[Nishimura] The matte black seems to quietly embrace the light, and is very elegant. The natural matte finish gives it a soft warmth to the touch, creating a synergistic effect between the serenity of the appearance and the softness of the touch.

[Suwa] The fine crystals create a natural matte finish. This black is made by mixing various pigments.

[Nishimura] I think it's amazing that your mother was the first woman to be named one of the Ten Craftsmen of the Sen family. I'm curious to know how the two wheels of "bloodline" and "skills" are passed on in the inheritance of traditional crafts.

[Suwa] It may be rare even in Kyoto that both parents have taken over their respective businesses. I would like to use what I have learned from each of my families as a foundation and, together with my sister who has taken over as the 13th Sotetsu, to carry on the tradition to the next generation.

[Nishimura] Finally, please tell us your outlook for the future. I am very much looking forward to what the future holds .

[Suwa] For the past 10 years or so, I have been presenting works with a space theme.
<Heavenly Image> The theme was the image (shape) of heaven. Celadon is likened to the "color of the sky after the rain."
With Nerikomi Celadon, you can feel the birth of stars, sunsets, and the colors of the sky at dawn in spring. While I treasure these works that reflect the scenery in your hearts, I would like to re-examine the documents and remaining works of the founder, who passed away 100 years ago, and recreate pottery other than celadon that the founder studied in modern times with my own interpretation.





Suwa Sozan – High-end pottery specialty store [Amagi-michi]