Encountering New Pottery
Even though it's made of clay, it feels like stone.
That was the sensation I felt when I first laid eyes on Sota Ohara's pottery.
It started with a single plate a friend showed me.
Comparing each plate closely, the appearance of blue hues, the charcoal marks, and the expression of crazing varied slightly, each embodying a different atmosphere.
At the same time as I wished to welcome it into my own home, the thought grew, "How does such a profound expression come into being?"
While I was certainly drawn to the works themselves, even more so, I became curious about the craftsmanship behind them.
With that thought, I contacted Mr. Ohara, and recently had the opportunity to visit his studio in Tokorozawa City, Saitama Prefecture.
In a Quiet Studio
On a slightly sweaty day, I drove to Mr. Ohara's studio.
It's a home and studio located in a corner of a residential area. As I opened the door, the first thing that caught my eye were the neatly arranged pieces of pottery on the shelves.
The plate my friend showed me, impressive round cups, and vases with a dignified presence, among others. The works I had fallen in love with that day were all lined up, and my heart involuntarily danced with excitement.
Mr. Ohara, who warmly welcomed me, was a very gentle person, and his sincere character was conveyed through each of his words.
As I gazed at the pottery on the shelves, Mr. Ohara lovingly picked them up and shared the background behind the creation of each expression.
The color of the clay, the application of glaze, and the carbonization process.
He explained that a profound expression is created by the combination of various elements.
Even among pottery made with the same materials and process, when placed side by side, no two expressions are exactly alike.
The question I had before coming to the studio—"How do such profound expressions come into being?"—seemed to gradually unravel with Mr. Ohara's words.
Time Spent with Clay
On this day, I had the opportunity to observe a part of the production process using a technique called "tatara" (slab building).
Unlike forming shapes from clay on a potter's wheel, tatara is a technique where clay rolled into a flat slab is shaped along a mold. Flat pottery might seem easy to make at first glance, but it's actually very difficult to achieve the desired flatness because it tends to warp during firing.
First, the process of kneading the clay, called "kikuneri" (chrysanthemum kneading).
Air is removed from the clay, and its hardness is uniformly adjusted.
I found myself mesmerized by his efficient movements as he put his weight into the lump of clay, rhythmically changing its shape.
After the kikuneri, the lump of clay was shaped like a rocket. He then gradually pressed it by hand, extending it into a beautiful, flat cylindrical shape.
Mr. Ohara placed several thin wooden plates on either side of the cylindrical clay. Then, he slid a taut, thin wire parallel to the clay, neatly slicing it into uniform thicknesses, one piece at a time.
Normally, to prepare these sliced clay pieces, a certain amount of drying time is required to prevent slumping, but on this day, he had prepared separate pieces that had already been dried to the perfect hardness.
He gently placed the appropriately dried clay onto a rounded mold.
On the rotating stand, he gently shaped it with his palms, following the contours of the mold.
Through this craftsmanship, the flat clay slab quickly transformed into the shape of a vessel.
Although the process appears smooth and fluid, meticulous adjustments are essential until the firing is complete.To prevent warping and cracking, careful management is necessary, observing the drying timing.
He explained that large plates, in particular, often crack during the third "carbonization firing."
"Before, I made a lot of large plates. I wanted to make them into wall hangings or large serving dishes. But at the very end, about 90% of them cracked. I was really discouraged then."
Mr. Ohara said, with a slight wry smile.
Despite that, he continued to seek the cause of the cracking, slowly adjusting the temperature, trying various positions and orientations in the kiln, and then moving on to the next creation.
This accumulation of trial and error is what gives birth to Mr. Ohara's richly expressive pottery.
The Landscape of Carbonization, Painted by Chance
One of the major elements that create these expressions is the process called "carbonization firing."
After bisque firing, glazing, and firing the pottery, it is then enclosed with rice husks in a round container called a "saya" (sagger) and placed in the kiln for a third firing.
"This is something you truly don't know until you open the kiln."
Mr. Ohara retrieved the still-hot sagger from the kiln and gently lifted the lid with gloved hands.
Inside, the sagger was filled with pitch-black ash from burnt rice husks. He excavated each piece of pottery from within, gently brushed off the ash, and a pale gray plate emerged.
While carbonization firing generally results in mostly black expressions, Mr. Ohara's pottery is striking for its delicate colors, where subtle blues sometimes bleed into the pale gray.
"To some extent, I aim for a certain expression and adjust the mixture and firing accordingly. However, when I open the kiln, sometimes it doesn't quite reach what I envisioned, and other times, something even better than I imagined is born. Nature shows me new expressions that surpass what I had in mind. That's truly the interesting part of carbonization firing."
Mr. Ohara's words conveyed the unique charm of carbonization firing, where he engages with the clay and fire, yet ultimately entrusts the outcome to nature.
The soft, intertwining white and gray crazing that captivated me that day.
I realized it wasn't born by chance, but rather emerged after numerous trials as Mr. Ohara continued his search.
Feeling My Way, Experimenting
"I'm still experimenting and trying things out."
"I want to refine it a bit more."
Mr. Ohara, who said this, seemed incredibly happy.
The pottery displayed before me was already beautiful enough. Yet, I felt his gaze was directed beyond that.
Mr. Ohara's journey into ceramics began after he graduated from university and worked as a company employee. When he contemplated his future path, the "longing for craftsmanship" that had always been in a corner of his heart gradually grew.
He dove into the world of a craftsman whose pottery he truly admired, learning the craft from scratch. From there, he became captivated by ceramics, earnestly engaging with firing, clay, and glazes, and quickly immersing himself in that world.
He seemed to be enjoying the very process of interacting with the uncontrollable fluctuations of nature, building up his skills one step at a time, and his figure appeared remarkably radiant.
A Refreshing Tea Time
After showing me around, Mr. Ohara prepared tea.
His signature round cups were filled with plenty of ice. When cold green tea was poured into them, a refreshing coolness instantly filled the space.
Picking up a cup, the smooth, stone-like texture transmitted to my fingertips. The sensation of the vessel, chilled by the cold tea, combined with this, made me want to cup it in my hands again and again.
After bisque firing, main firing, and carbonization—three firings in total—each piece is meticulously polished with sandpaper, resulting in an astonishingly smooth rim. This comfort also conveys the careful craftsmanship of Mr. Ohara.
Thus, I welcomed Mr. Sota Ohara's pottery.
The beautiful, chance-drawn expressions, whose outcome is unknown until the kiln is opened, naturally blend into our dining table, adding a cool touch to our daily lives.
