return to table of contents

PART II
 READ PART 1

 
This is the second installation in the memoir of potter Clayton Amemiya, describing his introduction to Japanese ceramics.  Forty years ago Amemiya began a new career path after a chance meeting with the controversial Okinawan potter, Seisho Kuniyoshi, who died tragically in 2000. Kuniyoshi's works were featured in a retrospective exhibit at Waseda University in Tokyo in 2005.

 


"Marumon Dobin"

 When I first met Seisho Kuniyoshi in 1972, he fired his work in a conventional downdraft kiln fueled by oil. His tableware, sold to restaurants, ceramic wholesalers and private customers, utilized traditional glazes made primarily of feldspar and wood ash applied over colored oxide designs. Usually, the iron rich Okinawan clay was covered with a slip made from fine white clay similar to what we had dug in Nago, then glazed and fired to give the pot a surface like fine stoneware. The firing, lasting about 15 hours, was uneventful unless there developed a clog in the oil burner or some other mechanical malfunction. When the kiln was opened after cooling, the finished work would be dispatched quickly and the exhausting production process would begin again.

Most demanding to make were the teapots, with their many components to be thrown and joined. Based on a traditional model, they became highly prized and orders began arriving from all over Japan when the eminent critic, Hideo Hata, lavishly praised the "Marumon Dobin"(Teapot with Round Mark) in the influential ceramic journal, Honoho Geijutsu (1975). It was hectic at the workshop daily, with Seisho making and assembling the pots and myself and another assistant doing the support work like kneading clay or mixing glaze. As the orders increased, Seisho became more open to assigning us important tasks like the actual glazing. In a three month period, he produced over three hundred teapots, seemingly identical but varying in quality.





 



 fish platter by Jiro Kinjo

Then in the spring of 1976, despite all the praise and attention he was receiving, he confided to me that he was no longer interested in the life of a potter. He seemed genuinely apologetic, knowing my friendship with him was the reason I had become attracted to clay. But his sudden fame had begun to strain his personal life, leading to a breakup of his marriage. Also, he was the object of jealousy from other Okinawan potters who envied his notoriety in the Japanese ceramic world. Along with Jiro Kinjo, Seisho’s elderly neighbor and friend who had recently been designated a “Living National Treasure“ by the Japanese government, only they enjoyed recognition in Japanese ceramic circles. Some of the antagonism was brought about by Seisho’s attitude towards an influential group of potters centered at one of the island’s universities. He was critical of their lack of knowledge of Asian ceramics and history, and the pots they made were to him poor copies of the classics. More interested in the marketing aspects of ceramics, they produced thousands of traditional looking work to be sold to tourists arriving in droves from the Japanese mainland. These potters, because of the revenues they generated, enjoyed close relationships with the local politicians, and soon the open spaces around Seisho’s property became developed with new workshops and two gigantic climbing kilns firing thousands of pieces for the tourist market. When I first became friends with him I remember being puzzled when he told me not to walk beyond Kinjo’s property to the large kilns. Sensing his seriousness, I never ventured there until much later when I saw how correct his assessment of their work had been.



 

For a time, reflecting his wavering emotions towards clay, he stopped making pots in his former style disappointing collectors and galleries who had been eagerly acquiring his work. They became further alienated when he began experimenting with sculptural forms. He sold little, and he survived with help from family and friends.

 
ceramic and glass sculpture by Seisho Kuniyoshi (cir 1975)



 

Japan in the mid to late 1970’s saw a resurgence in the use of the anagama, or tunnel kiln, among individual potters not attached to traditional anagama areas like Bizen, Shigaraki or Tamba (six or so locations on Honshu Island that produced wood fired, naturally glazed pottery since medieval times).



 


Hikoshi at summer, 1990 firing


In late 1976 Seisho built his first anagama, and his work again assumed a more mainstream appearance. He seemed re-energized by this different technique, and the coarse, organic appearance of his pots suited the firing well. Okinawa had its own history of kilns similar to the anagama. But the new anagama used by individual potters were much smaller, enabling the potter to create a wider range of special effects on the surface of the pots.


 


anagama fired jar by Seisho Kuniyoshi (cir 1990)


 

Also, because of the decreased size, the firing was manageable by two or so people. The entire village did not have to be involved, like at the large, traditional anagama areas. Still, the process was exhausting, one particular firing in the summer of 1990 lasting seven days. Seisho disappeared each day for hours, leaving the work to myself and Hikoshi, a genial professional kiln stoker. I vividly remember the oppressive heat and humidity and the sense of relief I felt when the firing finally ended.


day 6 of anagama firing, 1990





 


____________________________________________________________________________________
 

 

Learn more about Hawaii artist Clayton Amemiya and his works in the idspace section of HI Art, or in our on-line store.

view Clayton's current idspace exhibition
view Clayton's past idspace exhibition

 

READ PART 1


 return to top of page     return to table of contents