Chojiro’s Teabowl
This black-glazed tea bowl in the regular, unwarped shape of a half-cylinder joins the collection of Chojiro’s works from the late 16th century. Cort attributed Chojiro’s practice of lead and copper-glazed ceramics as a localized re-creation of Southern Chinese ceramics, which were accessible to Japan during the medieval period through transnational trades (Cort 2003, 80). The following discussion revolved around the Black Raku ware and aims to explore how the aesthetics of Wabi-sabi and Yujo are materialized in the tangible form.
Compared to the extremely fine-looking, impeccable Ru ware, which is meticulously rendered by artisans in the Northern Song, China, the Japanese tea bowl here exhibits conspicuously differences in colors and textures. The finely executed Ru wares incorporate a blue glaze that looks like the clear sky after rain on a smoothly polished surface, suggesting the zenith of artistic achievements in pursuing perfection. In contrast, Chojiro’s tea bowl retreats to the use of black glaze on a coarse-textured surface. One could argue the decision to use black without further painting and layering of glazes aims to reduce both color palettes and the visible visual forms to the very minimum, which resonates with the unpretentious beauty that Wabi-Sabi values. Taking a step further, the coarse instead of smooth surface polishing of the tea bowl reflects Wabi-Sabi’s outweighs blemished over unblemished beauty.
Those who take the seeming imperfections in Chojiro’s craftsmanship of making the black ware compared to the Ru ware might come to an easy conclusion that the simplistic rendering of colors, forms, and imperfectly polished texture happened because of Chojiro’s incompetence in making ceramics. However, I wish to argue these people should respect the artist’s mindset or aesthetics because the Wabi-Sabi style indicates an intention “to transform material insufficiency so that one discovers in it a world of spiritual freedom unbounded by material things” (Koshiro 196). When the tangible forms are reduced to the minimum, the users of the black ware might find it more approachable and invited to interact with Chojiro’s piece compared to the fragile, fine Ru ware. This implies a conceptual transformation from a ritual or displayed vessel to a functional, utilitarian vessel that could be repeatedly used during tea ceremonies. In Koshiro’s words, the traces or marks of imperfection or worn-out on the tea bowls carry a suggestive power to be the epitome of masters’ accomplishment accumulated through ages and experiences. In other words, the austerity and imperfections invoke the viewers and users to wonder about the passage of time and past human activities, which achieved Yujo, the lingering emotional aftertaste. In Japanese Tea culture, the emphasis on internal meditation that reflects on the tea utensils, the surrounding layouts of the tea house, the plants in the tea garden, the weather, and the host master requires the utensils to be humble; otherwise, how could one refrain their obsession on the teawares from paying attention to the holistic, Ichi-go-ichi-e experience?
Returning to Chojiro’s tea bowl here, it merits attention to the black glaze again. It might be worth arguing to what extent the techniques used here are not sophisticated, as the artisans have to quickly remove the bowl from the kiln to let it cool so that they can reach such a rich black tone. In other words, I argue we should contextualize the artistic decisions in the specific aesthetic culture and be cautious in judging the artistry from eye-viewing without familiarizing ourselves with the processes of making.
Cited Works:
Louise Allison Cort, “Shopping for Pots in Momoyama Japan,” in Japanese Tea Culture, 61-85.
Haga Kōshirō, “The Wabi Aesthetic Through the Ages,” in Tea in Japan, 195-230.