During the 20th century, Japanese studio pottery made by individuals came to the fore. Up until then, many potters worked for large kilns or were artisans involved in a production-line method; one man molded the pots, while another decorated and so on.
The first real studio potter in Japan was Itaya Hazan (1872-1963), opening the door for others to follow. Of course, not all studio potters became as successful as Hazan -- they were often overshadowed by the greatness of their teachers. This was so for one of the greatest Mashiko yaki potters ever, Gen Murata (1904-84). To celebrate the centenary of Murata's birth, the Mashiko Ceramic Art Museum in Tochigi Prefecture is hosting "The Art of Gen Murata: The Strength that Resides in Clay" until Sept. 26.
I'll never forget the first time I encountered his work. It was in a small coffee-shop gallery hosting a Mashiko-yaki yunomi (teacup) exhibition. Murata's yunomi had nothing fancy about it: It had a traditional shape; sturdy and honest with powerful iron-brush strokes over the creamy nuka (rice husk) glaze. Yet in that simplicity was a depth I'd never encountered in such a common form. It was as if the cup was breathing.
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