Letters from Teachers: Potters' Mentors and Friendships, Read Through the Recommendations in Their Leaflets

Untie the cord of a fitted wooden box (tomobako), lift the lid, and sometimes a sheet of paper comes out along with the vessel. This is the shiori, a leaflet printed with the artist's career. It was enclosed with works at exhibitions or sales, and most of these leaflets are lost as the pieces change hands; even when they survive, they usually lie unread at the bottom of the box.

For a dealer in antiques, though, this thin sheet is as valuable a document as the vessel itself. The last line of the chronology narrows down when a piece was made, and the way titles are written tells us when the leaflet was printed. And now and then, it carries words written by someone other than the artist: a teacher's recommendation sending a pupil out into the world, a few lines from an old friend, an introduction by a critic. Written for visitors to an exhibition, they are, in a sense, "letters from teachers."

In this article we have gathered the words others wrote about potters, taken from the leaflets that come with items in our shop and from the materials we have recorded in our product descriptions. Who introduced whom, and in what words? What kind of person was the potter introduced, and what work followed those words? Read side by side with the vessels, the letters reveal connections between people that photographs of the works alone cannot show. All the items introduced here are handled by our shop, and all the photos were taken by us.

Relationship Map of the Artists in This Article

From Hamada Shoji to Shimaoka Tatsuzo: "Tsumugi Thread, Kasuri Pattern"

The first letter was written by Hamada Shoji (濱田庄司, 1894–1978), the potter who led the mingei (folk craft) movement, about the pupil Shimaoka Tatsuzo (島岡達三, 1919–2007). Shimaoka was born in downtown Tokyo, the eldest son of a braided-cord maker, studied ceramics at the Tokyo Institute of Technology, and in 1946 came knocking at Hamada's door. After more than 20 years of training in Mashiko, Shimaoka would later be designated a holder of an Important Intangible Cultural Property (Living National Treasure) for jomon zogan, rope-impressed inlay.

Hamada begins with the pupil's character.

Shimaoka, with the strong inner confidence peculiar to people raised in downtown Tokyo, is deliberately reserved in presenting the work; (omitted) and while having the skill to make almost anything, Shimaoka narrows the focus well to personal taste and holds the work in check.
— Hamada Shoji

When a teacher introduces a pupil, the usual temptation is to list technical skill and awards. What Hamada praises instead is "being able to do anything, and choosing not to." Precisely because the skill is there, Shimaoka narrows the focus and restrains the work. Mingei vessels have always valued staying close to the lives of their users over the maker's self-assertion. Seen through those eyes, Shimaoka's restraint was not a weakness but the most trustworthy of qualities.

The letter then turns to the jomon zogan that became Shimaoka's signature: a technique learned from Jomon earthenware, in which braided cords are rolled over the surface to impress rope patterns that are then filled with white clay. Hamada quietly adds that those cords were keepsakes of Shimaoka's father, a master braided-cord maker. And the letter closes like this:

The skill with which Shimaoka entrusts the pattern to the cords and builds a style of one's own is just like Shimaoka. On the whole it is quiet, subdued work; if it were a kimono, I suppose the thread would be tsumugi and the pattern kasuri.
— Hamada Shoji

Tsumugi is a sturdy everyday silk that softens to the body the more it is worn. Kasuri is a pattern made by dyeing the threads before weaving, so that the outlines blur faintly. Neither is showy, yet both can be used every day without tiring of them. No phrase, it seems to us, captures the surface of Shimaoka's work better than this comparison with kimono. Take one of Shimaoka's teacups in hand, and the white clay set into the rope impressions looks soft as mist, just like a kasuri pattern.

The letter also contains the phrase "more than twenty years since graduating from the ceramics course of Tokyo Tech." Such casual numbers, too, help us consider when a recommendation was written and where the works of that time stand. Our #253 was made in 1961, the fifteenth year counting from Shimaoka's entry into Hamada's workshop in 1946, and the inside of the box lid bears the inscription "作陶十五周年記念" (commemorating fifteen years of pottery) in the artist's own hand. It was also the year Shimaoka built a climbing kiln in Mashiko: a cup from the very moment when the potter the teacher described, "reserved, yet with strong inner confidence," was about to stand alone.

From Hamada Shoji to Sakuma Totaro: "No Priming Water Needed"

Another letter by Hamada Shoji has reached our shop. It is addressed to Sakuma Totaro (佐久間藤太郎, 1900–1976), born into a pottery family in Mashiko. From 1924, when Hamada moved to Mashiko, Sakuma studied under Hamada and supported the rise of Mashiko ware as mingei pottery. The Mashiko Museum of Ceramic Art introduces Sakuma as the first person in Mashiko to aim to become a ceramic artist after meeting Hamada. In 1934, in the mingei magazine "Kogei," Hamada wrote that among the young makers of Mashiko, Sakuma was the one of longest standing, and found in the way Sakuma "brings out the clay of Mashiko" a straightforwardness true to the place.

The leaflet "Tou no Sato Mashiko" enclosed with the Sakuma Totaro Kiln teacups (#434) carries those words by Hamada.

Looking at Sakuma Totaro's pottery of the last two or three years, the work seems enviably free and joyful (omitted). Sakuma has surely struck groundwater beneath one's own feet, and needs no priming water.
— Hamada Shoji

Priming water is the water first poured into a well pump to draw water up. Rather than decorating a style with techniques borrowed from outside, Sakuma grasps what wells up from the ground underfoot, that is, from the clay and life of Mashiko. That is why even bold experiments never feel forced. There can be no higher praise from a teacher to a pupil.

And at the end of the letter, Hamada writes something surprisingly frank.

These days I am moved to be learning many things from Sakuma, and I count it a blessing for Mashiko that after more than thirty years we have gained such a potter.
— Hamada Shoji

Hamada, already at the heart of the mingei movement, writes of learning from a pupil, and "for Mashiko" at that. What comes through is less a teacher-pupil relationship than respect for a companion who had fired the same clay in the same land. In the same text Hamada describes Sakuma's recent work as having "the ease of a tree that has grown from a garden tree into a mountain tree": not a tree tended in a garden, but the free growth of a tree in the wild. This line, too, puts the mingei aesthetic directly into words.

What interests us as dealers is that this leaflet also serves as a clue to dating. It begins: "Since Mr. Hamada Shoji came to Mashiko (omitted), before we knew it, more than sixty years have passed." Counting more than sixty years from 1924, when Hamada moved to Mashiko, this line allowed us to estimate that the #434 teacups were made in the mid-to-late 1980s by the successors and craftsmen of the Sakuma kiln trained under the first generation. The kiln's leaflet, which kept printing the teacher's words, even tells us the date of a later generation's work.

Many other makers grew up under Hamada. Akashi Shosaku (明石庄作, 1946–) entered the workshop of Hamada Shoji and the eldest son Hamada Shinsaku in 1962, trained at the Hamada kiln for 20 years, and became independent in Mashiko in 1981. The chronology in the leaflet with our #460 ends with the 1998 Tochigi Prefecture Culture Encouragement Award, from which we estimate the piece was made in the late 1990s. No recommendation from the teacher survives, but each line of the leaflet tells the path of a maker forged at the Hamada kiln.

From Shimaoka Tatsuzo to Matsuzaki Ken: "I Look Forward to Seeing What Flowers Will Bloom"

In time Shimaoka Tatsuzo, whom Hamada had called "reserved," also took pupils and came to write recommendations. One of them was Matsuzaki Ken (松崎健, 1950–). Born in Machida, Tokyo, Matsuzaki majored in ceramics at Tamagawa University and then trained for five years living in Shimaoka's household. In 1977 Matsuzaki built a kiln in Kitagoya, Mashiko, and became independent. The leaflet with our #269 carries the teacher's words, written on that occasion.

Matsuzaki majored in ceramics in the art department of Tamagawa University in Tokyo and after graduating studied at my place for five years. (omitted) In addition to fine natural gifts, Matsuzaki loves work like no one else.
— Shimaoka Tatsuzo

What Shimaoka valued was that Matsuzaki directed the work toward tableware tied to daily life: "Though it may look plain at first glance, it is the most correct attitude for making pottery as craft, and I believe the true beauty of pottery is born from it." The gaze that Hamada once turned on Shimaoka, valuing rightness over showiness, is here handed on intact to the next generation. The letter ends like this:

Matsuzaki, who has already trained for more than ten years and has ample skill, now has a kiln and workshop of one's own and can freely express one's ideas. I look forward to seeing what flowers will bloom.
— Shimaoka Tatsuzo

The same leaflet carries a second letter, by Ushijima Noriyuki, a Western-style painter and member of the Japan Art Academy. Matsuzaki's father, the Nihonga painter Matsuzaki Shuki, had been Ushijima's close friend from middle school, often going out sketching together.

Our work is born from the environment of daily life, and I think that matters not only in painting but in pottery too.
— Ushijima Noriyuki

A letter from the teacher, and a letter from the father's close friend. At the start of a young potter's career, two elders, a teacher of pottery and a painter, wrote words of encouragement, and both told the potter to cherish "daily life." It hardly seems a coincidence.

And the flowers the teacher looked forward to did bloom. Just three years after becoming independent, Matsuzaki received the Kokugakai Nojima Prize in 1980 and became a member of the Kokugakai in 1986. Works entered the collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, the Victoria and Albert Museum and others. Hamada Shoji, Shimaoka Tatsuzo, Matsuzaki Ken: we can set the words of three generations of teachers and pupils side by side in one article only because the leaflets survived.

Kimura Ichiro and Matsubara Naoyuki: Tracing a Teacher and Pupil Without Letters

Not every teacher and pupil left letters. We have no recommendation exchanged between Kimura Ichiro (木村一郎, 1915–1978) of Mashiko and the pupil Matsubara Naoyuki (松原直之, 1938–2024). Even so, piecing together leaflets, box inscriptions and the materials we researched for our product descriptions, their relationship comes into view more richly than one might expect.

Kimura Ichiro was born in Mashiko. Moved by the pottery of Kawai Kanjiro, Kimura studied at the Ministry of Commerce and Industry's Ceramics Testing Institute in Kyoto. Among the classmates was Yagi Kazuo, who later founded the Sodeisha and led postwar avant-garde ceramics. Through an introduction by Hamada Shoji, Kimura also learned the nerikomi (layered clay) technique from Kawai Kanjiro. Back in Mashiko, Kimura brought in techniques Mashiko had not known, such as shinsha (copper red) glaze and nerikomi. Hamada seems to have disapproved of the shinsha and nerikomi and never used them in Mashiko. The 2014 exhibition at the Mashiko Museum of Ceramic Art was titled "The Modernist of Mashiko: Kimura Ichiro." Kimura stood in a slightly different place from the Mashiko makers described in Hamada's letters.

Our shinsha teacup by Kimura Ichiro (#515) comes with a printed leaflet titled "Career of Mr. Kimura Ichiro." Since it describes the invitation to the 1964 International Ceramics Exhibition as "to be held this autumn," it is thought to have been printed that year. At its end, Kimura's death on 21 August 1978 had been added later by hand. That date matches the date of death in the "Yearbook of Japanese Art" collected by the Tokyo National Research Institute for Cultural Properties.

We do not know who added it. Yet an owner who heard of the artist's death quietly wrote one more line on the leaflet at hand. That line seems to us a letter of a different kind from a teacher's recommendation: a letter to the artist from someone who cherished the vessel.

On the other teacup (#516), the bottom of the box bears a pen inscription: "昭52.3.7. 贈 上野 登" (7 March 1977, gift, Ueno Noboru). It records that on 7 March 1977, the year before Kimura died, this teacup passed from one person to another as a gift. Inscriptions left on leaflets and boxes are the very path a vessel has travelled.

What, then, of the pupil Matsubara Naoyuki? Matsubara studied under both Kimura Ichiro and Yagi Kazuo. As noted above, Kimura and Yagi were classmates at the ceramics testing institute in Kyoto. In other words, Matsubara inherited both the earthy character of Mashiko clay and the modern sensibility of Kyoto from two people who had once studied in the same classroom. Matsubara opened the Yatake kiln in 1961, received the Tochigi Prefecture Arts Festival Prize in 1967 and an Encouragement Prize at the International Ceramics Exhibition in 1990, and representative works entered the Mashiko Museum of Ceramic Art.

Kimura's nerikomi is also said to have been passed on to Matsui Kosei of Kasama, later a Living National Treasure. Though no letters remain, the flow of technique and people clearly continued. On our product pages, such teacher-pupil and family relationships are gathered under "The Artist's Lineage and Related Information"; please have a look.

Letters from Friends: Recommendations by Non-Potters

Teachers are not the only ones who write recommendations. The leaflet of the Bizen potter Ishino Taizo (石野泰造, 1942–) carries a piece titled "About Ishino" by the Akutagawa Prize-winning novelist Miura Tetsuo (三浦哲郎, 1931–2010).

Ishino's career is a little unusual. After graduating from the Faculty of Letters at Waseda University, Ishino edited literary books and the magazine "Bungei" at the publisher Kawade Shobo Shinsha, then left in 1975 to pursue pottery. After a ceramics training school in Aichi Prefecture, Ishino built a climbing kiln in Wake, Okayama, and was first selected for the Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition in 1979. Miura was a friend who knew Ishino well from the editing days.

Ishino is someone who has spent time with people who create things, understood the work they have raised, and encouraged them. Someone who knows deeply the heart of those who create. And now, Ishino has become one of those who create.
— Miura Tetsuo

Someone who stood on the side of supporting writers moves to the side of making, and a writer once encouraged now takes up the pen to encourage in return. This exchange of roles gives the piece a warmth different from a teacher's recommendation. And its closing words are addressed to us, the ones who hold the vessels.

Please place Ishino's works on your palm and look at them. And if you like, keep them by you for a long time and cherish them.
— Miura Tetsuo

At the beginning of the same leaflet is a greeting by Ishino: drawn to Bizen ware, which has the flavour of the clay itself, Ishino entered the life of pottery and wishes to make works with particular care for the firing. And at the end, "Please let me hear your criticism." A friend's recommendation and the maker's own modest word: read together, the leaflet looks like a small exchange of letters.

Sometimes a friend's single remark has moved an artist's whole life. Shiohara Bunji (塩原文二, 1907–1978) of Kutani worked in both Western-style painting and pottery. In the leaflet with #293, Shiohara describes how the path into pottery began. While enjoying overglaze painting in the studio of a friend, Tokuda Yasokichi, Shiohara was asked one day, "Shall we try entering your work in the Nitten?" Strangely taken with the idea, Shiohara made a jar with a butterfly design and was selected for the 1950 Nitten on the first try.

Though written by the artist, what this leaflet records is a single remark from a friend. Even without taking the form of a recommendation, someone's words can give birth to an artist. The leaflet tells us so, quietly.

Words from Critics and Cultural Figures

Critics and local cultural figures also wrote for leaflets. Miyanaga Tozan III (Miyanaga Rikichi, 宮永理吉, 1935–), third head of the distinguished Tozan kiln of Kyoto ware, studied sculpture under Tsuji Shindo and others at Kyoto City University of Arts and later became a member of the avant-garde ceramic group Sodeisha. The leaflet from the 1966 solo exhibition that comes with our #409 carries a contribution by the art critic Yoshida Kozo.

This exhibition is an attempt to make everyday objects, making full use of the artist's novel sculptural sense.
— Yoshida Kozo

An artist who started out as a sculptor takes on everyday vessels, and the critic introduced the attempt in terms of a "novel sculptural sense." Thanks to this leaflet, it became clear that the #409 bowl is an early work from that 1966 exhibition, trying to fuse sculpture and use. A recommendation not only conveys an artist's reputation; it can also document a work's provenance.

The decorative plate by Kitade Fujio (北出不二雄, 1919–2014) of Kutani (#459) comes with a dedicated explanatory leaflet written by Saga Yasuji, president of the Ishikawa Prefecture Art and Culture Association. Kitade's kiln is the one where Tomimoto Kenkichi, a Living National Treasure, stayed to study Kutani overglaze painting and which Tomimoto named "Seisen-gama." A person who carries the local culture writes an introduction of the artist, and it travels with the work. The leaflet is also a record of the bond between an artist and a region.

Why an Antiques Dealer Never Lets Go of the Leaflet

Having read this far, you may understand why our shop treasures leaflets. Finally, from the standpoint of a dealer in antiques, here are three things to read in a leaflet.

1. It gives clues to the date

A leaflet's chronology stops at the moment it was printed. What year is the last entry, how far do the titles go, is there a phrase like "to be held this autumn"? The "more than sixty years" of #434, the "to be held this autumn" of #515 and the last line of the chronology of #460 were all decisive in estimating when the works were made. Combined with box inscriptions such as "commemorating fifteen years of pottery" (#253), the period can be narrowed further.

2. It testifies to connections between people

Who wrote a recommendation tells the story of an artist's relationships. The words of three generations, from Hamada Shoji to Shimaoka Tatsuzo and from Shimaoka Tatsuzo to Matsuzaki Ken, convey in the voices of those involved how Mashiko pottery was handed down. Our "Potters' Seals and Signatures" guide and the lineage section on product pages are also built from such materials.

3. It teaches us how to look at a vessel

"Tsumugi thread, kasuri pattern." After reading this line, Shimaoka Tatsuzo's teacups really do begin to look as if their rope-inlaid white clay were a kasuri pattern. The words of those who watched a maker most closely teach us how to look at the vessels themselves. Leaflets convey what photographs and dimensions alone cannot.

When you acquire a vessel, please keep the leaflet, the fitted box and the wrapping cloth together with it, as part of the piece. Decades from now, for whoever holds that vessel next, they will surely become the same kind of "letter" we have read today.

Photos of artists' seals and signatures are in our "Potters' Seals and Signatures" guide, and the list of artists we handle is on the "Makers and Workshops" page.

Items Featured in This Article

These are the items introduced in the article, all handled by our shop. Click a photo to open the product page.