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It is therefore the task of the poet to condense into the bare minimum sentiments that will hold the maximum inspiration for the intuitive imagination of its readers. As a tea master will endeavor to make his simple wabi sabi expressions as poignant as possible, cutting awayanything that is superficial, so, too, the poet pares away all unnecessary words and images to leave a clear vision of the essence of life. Wabi Sabi and Ceramics Japan’s history of ceramics stretches back over ten thousand years and the vast array of uses offered by the clays that are so abundant throughout the archipelago have had a lasting impact on the cultural development of Japan over the millennia. Not surprisingly, the majority of the initial techniques were adopted from mainland China, but as with so many things Japanese, there was a desire to take an idea and then, through study and effort, improve on it. Today, Japan has probably the greatest pottery tradition in the world, which is supported and encouraged by a population that still greatly values this medium for artistic expression. Like other styles of pottery, Japan’s ceramics have a vast array of colors and forms, but unlike many in the West they rarely have handles, as the tactile nature of the pots makes handling them a part of the pleasure. In medieval Japan, under the patronage of the Zen monasteries and the Kamakura shogunate, the prevailing preference for simplicity and modesty were slowly introduced into the styles of the ceramics produced. So while there was still a huge following for the finer, more elegant pieces of Ming porcelain, interest in the more rustic pottery was on the increase. The new pots were rarely decorated; instead, the uneven texture of the ash glazes was preferred. The ornate ceramics from China that were so prized by the court and the wealthy ruling classes were considered too ostentatious by the Zen masters and became less and less attractive to Japanese aesthetic sensibilities. The potters expanded their horizons from the leash of symmetry and uniformity and started a move toward a more robust and free expression of beauty. Rikyu took the baton of artlessness from his predecessor, Ikkyu, when he introduced Korean craft pottery into his tea ceremony. The Korean potters, who might have made a hundred similar pots in a day, were probably totally devoid of any thought of artistic aspirations as they worked, and it was just this lack of intellect that proved so attractive to Rikyu. Rakuware, which later became synonymous with tea utensils, was in fact first commissioned by Rikyu after he noticed the visual qualities of a locally made roof tile. He asked the tile maker, Chojiro, to fashion pots using the same low-fired technique. Years later, Hideyoshi gave this style his approval by awarding a gold seal to Chojiro’s son with the character raku, which means pleasure. This identification of a potter as an artist was a break from the tradition of the nameless artisan and was to set a new precedent for Japanese ceramics. The raku tradition and family line continue to this day, although how much of the original spirit and artistic value is left is open to question. Yanagi suggests that even the school of raku, with its humble beginnings, soon became tainted with intellectual processes and the artificial pursuit of beauty, becoming but a pale imitation of the former purity achieved by the craft potters of Korea. In becoming so esteemed and sought-after, the first magical qualities of the wabi sabi style of pottery were diluted by the pressing commercial considerations that started to overshadow the cult of tea. Rikyu’s positioning of rough and unrefined pots on a par with, or even above, the prestigious wares owned by the nobility was a defining moment for Japanese aesthetics. As the accepted national authority on taste, he was able to shift the focus of the tea utensils toward simplicity and humility and away from the beautiful Chinese artifacts, clearing the way for the appreciation of ceramics that bore all the hallmarks of the wabi sabi sentiment. These more rustic-style bowls and tea utensils distilled the power and randomness of the flows of gases and ash in the kiln and their asymmetry offered almost endless potential for aesthetic appreciation. If a bowl is supposed to be perfect in its form and glaze, then, apart from the inevitable flaws that it will have, there will be less to hold the attention. By making something symmetrical the artist is giving little opportunity for the beholder to add anything to the piece, since it is supposed to be complete. On the other hand, by making asymmetrical pieces or pieces that may appear physically imperfect, the artist is offering an opportunity to get involved in the piece and to help complete the picture, or to even reflect on the seemingly imperfect nature of life itself. Ironically, some of the most prized bowls in history are those that have been initially discarded by the potters who made them. With the development of new kilns that provided greater heat along with the ability to create oxidizing and reduction atmospheres, the potters suddenly found themselves with a multitude of colors, forms, and textures to choose from. They also found a very supportive and well-educated market that was looking for the perfect balance between the organic and the refined. The result was the blending of the humble potter with the spontaneous qualities of natural fired clay. It has been said that wabi sabi pots are not perfection, but in fact, they have gone a step further, for they have relinquished the desire for perfection to reveal a truer and more beautiful view of life. The lengths that potters have gone to achieve this “more than perfect” imperfection are extreme, and their kilns became more and more complex to improve the firing qualities. The Anagama kiln, which still holds center stage in modern Japanese pottery, is a woodfired kiln that takes at least four days and nights of hard physical work to fire. The potter must test his own mettle and resolve during the firing, and it is his mental state that will determine the final outcome. The kiln is a kind of climbing system with one or more chambers that house the pots to be fired, and because of their size and the logistics of firing they will only be fired a few times a year. Large quantities of pine and other softwoods are fed into the kiln so that the force and heat generated by the gases becomes extremely high and the ash being produced is thus forced through the kiln and then up through the flue. It is the sporadic journey of the ash that is of interest to the potter, as it is often only the ash that provides the necessary glaze. So it is the position of the pot in the kiln that determines how and where its glaze will be formed. The potter struggles to find the shapes that are hidden in the raw clay, but once he has done his utmost to bring from within himself a pure shape, he will then carefully select a section in the kiln before abandoning the pot to the whims of the ash. Every firing is different, and the results will vary enormously, so it is with some trepidation that the kiln is opened and the pots brought from their fiery tomb. The potter will look carefully at each pot and only then will he be able to say whether the firing has been a success. No piece in the kiln will be exactly the same either in shape, texture, or glaze, and herein lies so much of its appeal. After a firing there will usually be a group of enthusiasts waiting to see and maybe purchase the fruits of his labor. Despite the great difficulties and unpredictable nature of this kind of firing, it is still thought to produce the best ceramics due to the part played by nature and the organic ash glazes. Little has been done in Europe with ash glazes, but in Japan the ash glaze has been a predominant feature of pottery since its use was first discovered in the Nara period. The desire for a nonuniform surface that can catch, in the glaze of each pot, the irregularities of nature hails back to the Japanese love of things that are imperfect and incomplete. When one picks up a tea bowl that has been fired with a random ash glaze, it is hard not to be entranced by the range, depth, and flow of colors that the ash has produced—the kiln has left its indelible mark on the piece. It is not hard to understand why the tea masters and Zen monks were so drawn to this art form, which seems to pro- vide a perfect harmony between the hand of the craftsman and the hand of nature. In such pieces of pottery can be found some wonderful wabi sabi nuances, and it is this visual and tactile appeal of pottery that has made it such an important part of the tea ceremony. During the tea ceremony, guests are invited to handle and appraise the utensils. This is an integral part of the whole experience; one where the guests have a chance to admire bowls that have been handed down through the ages, bowls that may once have been caressed by the hands of shoguns. The idea that inanimate objects have kami—a spirit or god—is an unquestioned certainty for most Japanese, and objects such as special trees or rocks are often decorated with a white rope to draw attention to their special kami. This is in part a result of the long tradition of Shinto in Japan, where kami exist in heaven and on earth and manifest themselves not only in the form of deities but also in natural phenomena and objects of the world.