purple Clay Snubbed in Japan
Japan, like China, has a long history of “Tea drinking,” and is even renowned worldwide for its tea ceremony. Compared to the elegance and expressiveness of Chinese tea wares, Japanese tea utensils perhaps possess a more delicate and graceful Eastern charm. Recently, I met with Cui Shaosong, a porcelain collector who studied in Japan and worked in an antique shop there for five years. Listening to his detailed account, this unfamiliar craft from a foreign land became familiar and endearing. Unlike the Chinese custom of drinking tea, the Japanese often use ceramic pots glazed both inside and outside. “Lid-lifting Teapots are rare; most are side-handle teapots with spouts uniformly facing left.” The Japanese indifference to traditional Chinese teaware, the purple clay Teapot, was something Cui Shaosong did not expect when he was back in China. During his travels, Cui Shaosong specifically noticed that Japanese museums, brimming with Chinese treasures, had never displayed a single purple clay teapot. The purple clay teapot he brought as a gift for his Japanese friends also received a polite but lukewarm reception. “Japan has its own ‘purple clay,' known as ‘beni' (vermilion clay), which is very bright in color, but none of the Japanese households I visited used these ‘beni' teapots for brewing tea. Instead, I bought one for myself for just 1,000 yen.”
When explaining their dislike of purple clay teapots, Japanese friends cited reasons such as “difficult to clean” and “poor heat retention.” However, Cui Shaosong sensed a “exclusivity” in Japanese craftsmanship. “The major royal kilns in Japan are absolutely immune to external influences. It's impossible to find any Chinese elements, like ‘dragons,' in Kutani ware.” This “conservatism” can be seen as a steadfast adherence to tradition. Many Japanese handicrafts are concentrated in small workshops in Kyushu and other areas, enjoying national protection and importance, with strict and orderly succession. “Some families pass down their techniques only to males, and it's common to find master craftsmen in their seventies and eighties still working. They cherish and protect their ‘core' skills, so many heirs don't receive the ‘true teachings' from their fathers until they're in their sixties.” Cui Shaosong once visited a Japanese pottery factory where the busy masters were unwilling to explain even the most basic procedures.
In traditional Japanese handicrafts, innovation is rare. For example, the traditional painting theme on Japanese tea wares, “Hyakunin Isshu” (One Poem by One Hundred Poets), involves painting one hundred figures from the period of Minamoto no Tōru along with their respective sayings on a teapot. With one hundred figures and thousands of characters, the intricacy rivals that of micro-engraving art. Surprisingly, this theme has remained virtually unchanged throughout its long history. The exquisite quality of Japanese tea wares also impressed Cui Shaosong. “In Japan, there are strict regulations stating that one teapot should only be paired with five tea bowls. And it takes at least half a year to paint one bowl, meaning a set of tea wares would take over two years to complete. Every stroke is executed meticulously.” Traditionally, the name of the kiln is marked on the finished tea wares, and “masterpieces” often bear the signature of the artisan. “I've seen cases where three names were inscribed on a cup, with some apprentices placing their master's name before their own.” Due to Japan's stringent laws, there is no room for forgery or misrepresentation.
But what left the deepest impression on Cui Shaosong, something he could not forget, was the Japanese spirit of simplicity in their approach to handicrafts and life. “The masters wear old aprons, simple and ordinary to the point where it's hard to believe these national treasure-level masterpieces come from their hands.” Cui Shaosong once observed the imperial kiln “Kaki” in Japan, where the ceramics they fire are not only hand-thrown, but the machines are foot-powered. “The thinner the body and the finer the clay, I once measured with a caliper, and their bodies are no more than two millimeters thick.” The Japanese have a strong awareness of resource conservation. “They purchase clay from Tangshan, China, due to the limited resources in their homeland.” This reminded Cui Shaosong of a trip to Jingdezhen, where he discovered that even telephone poles were made of blue-and-white porcelain. The extravagance with which resources were used left him sighing, lamenting the great gap between the Chinese and the Japanese in terms of resource-saving consciousness.