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Gabor Terebess
JAPANESE RAKU AND ITS AMERICAN RENAISSANCE

German version
Hungarian version (Művészet, XXIII. évfolyam, 9. szám, 1982. szeptember, 12-14. oldal)

"But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us."
King James Bible [2 Corinthians 4:7]

"Touch with your hands what your eyes suggest"
Attila József

A surprising thing took place some years ago when Raku IV. (otherwise known as Kichizaemon) requested that several museums return to him the collection of tea bowls he had previously lent to them for an unlimited period of time. His reason was the following: Raku tea bowls become ruined if they are not used. Removing a cold and dry Raku from a museum showcase and holding it in one's hands would indeed cause exasperation, especially for those whose fingers and lips have experienced the intimate warmth and wetness of a tea ceremony. Should any readers feel embarrassed, let me remind them of the modern repulsion for touch which Philip Rawson calls "tactile castration". In fact, I could most easily compare the artistic delight offered by a Raku bowl to that of a sexual encounter; the ritual act of stroking and caressing a human figure. All of this happens in a completely natural way when using a Raku tea bowl - fondling a statue or brushing one's lips to an art object would only give the impression of deviant behaviour.

Over four-hundred years old, Japanese Raku ceramics have been linked to the tea ceremony from the very beginning. The first Raku tea bowls were created in Kyoto at the impetus of Sen no Rikyu in the late 1570s or the early 1580s by a maker of roof-tiles called Chojiro. Their relationship can not be regarded in modern terms as that of designer and contractor, but rather as a rare meeting between critic and artist. Having discovered the raw power and exceptional sculpting talents of the potter, the tea master was given a long-awaited opportunity to replace his increasingly expensive, imported Chinese and Korean pottery with pieces created at home and specifically designed for the tea ceremony.

Chôjirô: Shunkan	Ômokage	Ômokage	Ôguro
Ichimonji	Muichi Motsu	Tsutsumi-gaki

Sen no Rikyu, aesthete and tea master in the court of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, reigning shogun, was a remarkable servant and brilliant model for the tastes of his age. He succeeded in finding the common denominator between the pure, Spartan creed of a military dictatorship (supported by a secularised Zen Buddhism) and the luxurious demands of samurai knights, new-fledged officials and prospering merchants. The "wabi-cha" - as the Rikyu tea ceremony is called - is the shrewd art of subtle simplicity, intentional contingency and invented naturalness. The objects used are seemingly rough, barren and deficient, but their realisation comes about with the greatest of care and craftsmanship.

The ceremony itself comprises nothing autonomous; it is a synthesis of traditional Japanese arts in which everything is applied and everything is interdependent. As is frequently the case with oriental art, it is not only the dividing line between fine art and industrial art that is blurred, but also that of religion, philosophy, etiquette, dress and nutrition. The ritual is evidence of the fact that life and art are indivisible and integrated. Nevertheless, the practice still takes place detached from daily life, in separate tea gardens and tea rooms, with utensils selected specifically for this purpose and in strict accordance with Zen taste.

A tile-maker by trade, Chojiro never learned to employ a potter's wheel, using dry, semi-pliable clay to carve his "sculptures from which tea can be drunk". He could only heat his primitive kiln at a low temperature and tried to take maximum advantage of the small combustion chamber by not "leaving the bowl to cool in the chamber" (yakizamashi), instead using wrought-iron tongs to "remove it hot" (hasami-dashi) and immediately replacing it with another. Red Raku was allowed to cool in the open air, while black Raku was quickly dipped in lukewarm water. Chojiro favoured these two colours in his work. Red was obtained by applying several layers of transparent glaze to the damp, ochre soil which served as the basic material while black could be produced by grinding pebbles with a high content of iron and manganese, gleaned from the Kamo river, the main waterway cutting across Kyoto. This was the process which gave birth to Raku, meaning freely sculpted ceramics, glazed and fired at low heat, and abruptly stiffened. This would seem a step backwards in terms of the technical standard of the time. Since the Nara period (8th Century), potters in even the most remote of Japanese villages had long been firing ceramics at temperatures of more than 1200 °C, although porous, low-fire ceramics could perform their function just as well. The water in a jug is kept fresh because it is able to permeate and evaporate over a large surface. A cooking pot does not crack on an open fire since its soft wall diminishes the stress produced by being heated on one side. Being a poor conductor of heat, a Raku bowl keeps tea warm during a lengthy ceremony without becoming too hot to hold (it has no handles and must be cradled with both hands). When hit, it must produce a dull sound - the loud clink of the bamboo chasen (tea-beater) would otherwise disturb the peace of the ritual.

The name Raku comes from Hideyoshi shogun himself. Following Chojiro's death, he gave his adopted son Jokei a golden seal containing the written symbol "Raku". Literally translated, the sign means "the joy of leisure time". Jokei was also honoured with the name "Tenka no ichi" (the best under the sun) and his descendants have also used 'Raku' as their family name since then. After the Meiji period, the original family name of Tanaka was permanently abolished in favour of Raku.

The workshops of the Raku family in Kyoto are called hongamas; the official kilns where only one master works at a time until his heir or adopted son takes charge.

Kôetsu: Amagumo	Kaga Kôetsu	Shichiri	Fuji-san (Sode chawan)

Other Raku ceramics are made in waki-gamas; auxiliary workshops. In addition to Chojiro, Hon'ami Koetsu (1558-1673) and Ogata Kenzan (1663-1743), the two greatest masters of Japanese Raku ceramics, both worked in waki-gamas. While the "touchable" works of Chojiro reflect a reserved visual quality not unlike that of sanded river pebbles, the decorative brushwork, unique sense of colour and ingenious composition evident in the work of Kenzan are primarily meant for the eyes rather than the hands. Among the three artists, it was Koetsu who managed to find the golden mean between visual and tactile quality. Descended from a family of sword experts, he only dealt with ceramics on an amateur level, much as he did with the arts of lacquering and calligraphy. Although only eleven of his ceramic bowls have remained, they provide reason enough to regard him as one of the greatest ceramists of all time. Koetsu never produced pieces on commission, preferring to create only for pleasure. No two of his works are alike; none of them have the same shape or adhere to a set stereotype. His most beautiful piece is called Fuji-san, known alternatively as Sode chawan; the bowl was the only dowry that his daughter brought into her marriage from her father's house. She carried it wrapped in the sleeve of her kimono.

The ceramists of Kyoto were the first in the history of Japanese ceramics to become renowned artists as opposed to remaining anonymous craftsmen. In fact, certain pieces among their works are referred to by name. Two of Chojiro's most exceptional works are called Oguro - "Large Black", and Hayabune - "Fast Ship". In addition to the aforementioned Mt. Fuji, Koetsu's collection also includes Amagumo - "Raincloud", Seppo - "Snowy Joy", and Yukushi - "Ripe Persimmon".

How to describe a typical Raku tea bowl? Firstly, it is used exclusively for the ceremonial drinking of tea, never for anything else. It has no handles or a base, but always has a ring on its underside. It must never be filled to the brim with hot tea. It is held at its two coolest points; at its lip with the right hand and at its base-ring with the left. Its average diameter is 8-15 cm, but 10-13 is more common. Its symmetrical balance is achieved by hand-carving. From a visual aspect, it can not be reproduced; it is a stranger to the reliable geometry of the potter's wheel. Its lip is characterised by soft and uneven waves, usually comprised of 3-7 gaku - "hills". Its plain, rounded form conforms well to the hands holding it. There are no sharp edges. It must not only sit comfortably when held, but must also stand firmly on the tatami since the fear of possible spillage would disturb the ceremony. The interior of the cup contains a spiral indentation running from the lip to the bottom so as to collect the last drops of tea, called cha-damari or "tea puddle", the idea being inspired by similar indentations found in rocks where rainwater collects. A slight crest runs along the inner edge of the lip to prevent the tea from being splattered when stirred by the bamboo chasen. This line is broken at the point where the tea is sipped, allowing the liquid to flow smoothly into the mouth of the drinker. Upon receiving the tea bowl from the tea master, the guest must turn the bowl in order to drink from it, which gives the person an opportunity to caress the fine modulations on the alternately rough and smooth surface of the bowl.

The colour of the tea bowl can only be appreciated when the cup is full; its true beauty is experienced through its use. The most common glazes to be found are red (deep salmon) or black, although we may sometimes encounter white, or the occasional green. The beauty of the tea bowl depends not only on the tea, however, but also on the wood, paper and straw environment of the tea room itself. Stone walls and glass windows are not an appropriate setting. Winter requires the use of taller cups narrowing at the brim as opposed to the flatter, wider variety used in the summer.

Japanese Raku bowls project no tactile or visual illusions. They are as warm to the touch as they are to the naked eye. Their material is porous and light, producing a dull sound when tapped by a fingernail. They both look and feel damp. Their smooth and pleasant surfaces are broken only by a few decorative brush strokes located opposite the drinking point - if any such decoration is to be found at all - and the sharp "wounds" left by the iron tongs. There is no opportunity to correct either of these marks; they are a permanent evidence of singular and determined motion. During the cooling process, while the glaze is still in a liquid state, it hangs on the surface of the mug like a "wet rag" (maku gusuri), or in "running drops" (nagare), stiffening into a fine weave of hairline cracks. There is no such thing as a faultless glaze on a Raku bowl. Indeed, the perfection achieved in the quality-control of mass-produced ceramic ware is foreign to Raku. The randomness of Raku glaze is not the result of an invented and refined method, but is simply the natural consequence of the glazing technique. Since the technique accepts human limitation, it is open to unintentional mistakes. Though a Raku bowl may seem rough and cumbersome when compared to something as refined as a rococo tea cup, for example, it nevertheless possesses an undeniable hidden refinement which far surpasses that of its cousins. Its form is methodically "worked" as opposed to being designed. When the Raku master opens his red-hot kiln, he has only seconds to act in harmony with the "heat of the moment." Once the glaze has stiffened, the artist has no time to consider what he has done or what he might do - there is no past or future. He must act fully in the present. Making corrections is a pointless endeavour as the bowl has already cooled, hence the master is open to any result, be it ordinary or unique. He accepts the consequences of the moment and forgets what has already passed. Not unlike a smoothly flowing river, he acts without hesitation; neither turning back, nor rushing forward. His goal is not to perfect the technique, but to experience it. "He doesn't know what he has conceived until he sees it". His discipline is entirely different from that required in the process of professional design and implementation. "He behaves like water, his calmness a mirror and his answer an echo."

Leach: Red Raku Bowls (c. 1920-1925), The first piece has been broken and repaired, using gold lustre to accentuate the damage in the same manner as early Japanese raku potters.

The first news of Raku ceramics to appear in Europe originates from the English ceramist Bernard Leach, who learned the technique from the descendants of the Raku family, and who was awarded the right to use the seal. In spite of this, Leach soon gave up using the technique, not really knowing what to do with it.

At the end of the 1950s, the American Paul Soldner decided to try the Raku technique with his students based on information from Bernard Leach's book entitled "A Potter's Book". Following several failed attempts, Soldner hit upon the idea of wrapping the hot bowl in dry leaves directly after removing it from the kiln, and prior to dipping it in water. The reduction that occurred as a result was the beginning of the triumphal march of Raku in America.

Until then, the glaze on a Japanese Raku mug had never come into contact with any inflammable material. The surface was broken only on the spot where it had been held by tongs. The cracked and scorched surface of the American version was "instant antiquity", personified in the typically American nostalgia for antique objects, a phenomenon which is unimaginable in Europe. Moreover, it connects with a trend in ceramics that reflects a certain disgust for "space-age " technology, using primitive techniques to create ceramic objects in total rebellion against functionalism and symmetry.

American Raku is not an imitation of the Japanese, which is its main virtue as well as its primary limitation. Since it is not created to perform a specific function as in Japan, it utilises every means to attract attention to itself, turning away from the ostentatious visual effects found in its Japanese counterpart. While a Japanese Raku is regarded as timeless, the American version gives the impression of being somewhat obsolete, a characteristic which is well-suited to the consumer desire for artistic trends of the past - namely abstract expressionism. Japanese Raku is created using only one technique and material in a highly refined process, while American Raku is characterised by a confusing variety. The Raku of Japan is also acquainted with the discipline of nature; American Raku only senses its awkwardness. In its impatience for immediate results, Raku in America has neglected to notice the slow process of maturation that one Japanese master described as "having to become a certain person before being able to achieve certain things." For the American ceramist, the height of the experience is firing the kiln itself - the "big happening". His Japanese colleague experiences the "summit" in all elements of the process - "every day is a good day". Japanese Raku bowls seem a bit banal and uninteresting to the American eye, which regards them as being all the same and confined within strict limits. The American "Raku artist" has difficulty in understanding the refined power of limitation, the aesthetic value and barren dignity of suggestion, and the importance of achievement measured in terms of tradition. His desire for something new at all costs has resulted in a search for effects which are exciting, yet superficial. Primitive, tormented surfaces (missing from products fired in electric kilns) and the bright lustre produced by scarce nitrates and chlorides have intoxicated him. Special technical innovations (designer tongs, large-capacity kilns) have made it possible to create products of immense size, but without the unique simplicity and intimate peace found in Japanese Raku.

The Japanese tea ceremony is largely unknown here in Hungary, and from the standpoint of assessing teacups, our cult of ceramics can be described as rather primitive. On the other hand, we do not understand the American ceramists aversion to modern technology since we create ceramics out of need as opposed to rebellion. The trends of 16th century Japan and the 1960s in America seem equally strange to us. However, there have been some attempts to approach these trends. Both Imre Schrammel and Károly Szekeres have worked with the American style of Raku, and Ilona Benko has won several international awards with her Raku statuettes. Using a salt glaze, American ceramists Kendra and David Davidson demonstrated the technique of utilising sodium in the Raku process last year at the International Ceramics Symposium in Siklós, and there are sure to be Hungarian artists who will follow in their footsteps. Indeed, I myself have been exploring the possibilities of Japanese Raku both in theory and in practice for over ten years.

Budapest, 1982.

Raku Family

I. Chojiro [?-1589]
II. Jokei [?-1635]
III. Donyu [1599-1656]
IV. Ichinyu [1640-1696]
V. Sonyu [1664-1716]
VI. Sanyu [1685-1739]
VII. Chonyu [1714-1770]
VIII. Tokunyu [1745-1774]
IX. Ryonyu [1756-1834]
X. Tannyu [1795-1854]
XI. Keinyu [1817-1902]
XII. Konyu [1857-1932]
XIII. Seinyu [1887-1944]
XIV. Kakunyu [1918-1980]
XV. Kichizaemon [1949-]