Karatsu-yaki – Japan's Third Tea Bowl and Its Earthy Clay
Table of contents
When people in western Japan used to speak of "Karatsumono," they did not necessarily mean ceramics from Karatsu, but ceramics in general. The name of the small port town on the northern coast of Kyūshū became a collective term for tableware, because for decades a large share of western Japan's pottery was shipped through its harbor. What was fired there was at first nothing precious: bowls, jugs, and storage vessels for everyday use, made of coarse, iron-rich clay, sparingly glazed, quickly thrown. It was precisely this plainness that made Karatsu-yaki interesting to the tea masters of the Momoyama period – and it has secured the ware a firm place among Japan's most highly esteemed ceramic traditions to this day.
What Is Karatsu-yaki?
Karatsu-yaki (唐津焼) is a Japanese stoneware from the city of Karatsu and its surrounding area in what is now Saga Prefecture in the north of the island of Kyūshū. It emerged in the late 16th century under strong influence of Korean pottery technique, is formed from coarse, iron-rich clay, and is fired in a noborigama (a chambered climbing kiln built on a slope) at approximately 1,250 to 1,300 degrees Celsius. Characteristic are earthy tones of brown, gray, and white, visible traces of the potter's wheel, and a deliberately restrained application of glaze that never lets the clay disappear entirely. Alongside Raku ware and Hagi ware, Karatsu ware is one of the three ceramic traditions most highly esteemed in the tea ceremony in Japan. In 1988 the ware was registered as Dentōteki Kōgeihin, a state-recognized traditional craft. It has long since ceased to be produced solely in Karatsu itself: kilns belonging to the same tradition also arose early on in neighboring Imari and in the area around Takeo.
The Kilns at Kishidake and the Question of the Beginning
When Karatsu ware was first fired remains unresolved to this day. For a long time, tradition held that the ware only emerged as a result of Toyotomi Hideyoshi's Korea campaigns (1592–1598), when Korean potters came to Kyūshū. More recent Japanese scholarship generally dates the beginnings somewhat earlier, to the 1580s, and locates them in the territory of the Hata clan around the mountain fortress of Kishidake in the north of the present-day city. One argument cited for this is a tea bowl of the Okugōrai type, attributed to the tea master Sen no Rikyū, who died in 1591, which would mean it was made before the campaigns. The kiln sites at Kishidake have been archaeologically investigated and are now protected as a historic monument; they are considered the starting point of the entire Karatsu tradition. What is certain is that when the Hata clan was stripped of power toward the end of the 16th century, its potters scattered across the region – and production grew rather than ceased as a result. The earliest Karatsu pieces in the Metropolitan Museum of Art are accordingly dated to the late 16th to early 17th century and catalogued as stoneware with ash and iron glaze.
Korean Technique: Chamber Kiln, Kick Wheel, Paddling Method
What technically distinguished Karatsu-yaki from older Japanese ceramics came from the Korean peninsula. The most important import was the Noborigama, the chamber kiln built into a slope, in which heat travels from chamber to chamber and allows a great many pieces to be brought to high temperature at once. The earliest kilns at Kishidake are of the Waridake-shiki type, a construction with a split, bamboo-like flue; they are among the oldest surviving kilns of this kind in Japan. In addition there was the Kerokuro, a foot-driven potter's wheel, and the Tataki, a paddling method in which built-up coils of clay are compacted and beaten into shape with a wooden paddle. This makes the clay denser, vessels warp less during firing – and the wall retains a slightly uneven, handmade surface.
The Clay That Is Meant to Be Seen and Felt
Karatsu-yaki belongs to the Tsuchimono, the "earth things" – ceramics in which the material itself becomes the motif. The local clay is coarse, sandy and rich in iron; it fires to gray, reddish brown and deep blackish brown, glowing warmly through wherever the glaze lies thin. This is best observed at the Kōdai, the unglazed foot ring: there the bare body shows itself with its quartz inclusions, often bearing firing marks from its position in the kiln. A Karatsu vessel therefore feels different from smooth tableware – grainy, a little rough, with noticeable weight. Anyone wishing to buy Karatsu ware should therefore first take a piece in hand: the impression arises through the sense of touch at least as strongly as through the eye.
E-Garatsu: Painting Beneath the Ash Glaze
The best-known variety of the ware is E-Garatsu, "painted Karatsu." On the leather-hard or bisque-fired body, a motif is applied with Oniita, an iron-bearing painting liquid: grasses, reeds, blossoms, occasionally birds or entirely abstract strokes. Over this comes a semi-transparent, grayish-breaking ash glaze, beneath which the drawing shows through in brownish to black tones after firing. The brushstroke here is usually strikingly spare – a few strokes, often slightly blurred, never quite centered. This economy is no accident: the motifs originally arose on the assembly line, for everyday tableware that had to be decorated quickly. What began as economic necessity was read by the tea masters as calligraphic casualness – and this is precisely where the appeal of E-Garatsu lies to this day. Because the clay body speaks through beneath the thin glaze, the same drawing looks entirely different on a light and a dark body. What such a piece looks like is shown by the Ōzara plate with pine motif at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, listed there as Hizen ware of the Karatsu type with iron-oxide underglaze painting.
Chōsen-Garatsu: Two Glazes That Flow Into Each Other
Chōsen-Garatsu, "Korean Karatsu," is the most dramatic variant of the tradition. Here, two very different glazes are combined: a dark, strongly iron-rich glaze and a milky-white straw ash glaze, obtained from the ash of burnt rice straw. The potter usually applies the white glaze below and the dark glaze above, so that they meet in the fire, flow into each other, and mix in places into bluish and ochre-colored streaks. Where the heavy glaze runs down the vessel wall, drops form that solidify just before breaking away. Because this process takes place inside the closed kiln and depends on temperature, position, and glaze thickness, the result can only be controlled approximately. Two pieces from the same firing therefore never look alike – one reason why Chōsen-Garatsu is especially often used for tokkuri (sake flasks) and tea vessels.
Madara-Garatsu, Kuro-Garatsu, and Their Quieter Relatives
Madara-Garatsu, "mottled Karatsu," is made from a mixture of feldspar and straw ash. The milky-white surface does not remain pure: iron from the clay and fly ash from the pinewood produce blue, gray, and blackish speckles that give the variant its name. It has been produced without interruption since the late 16th century. Kuro-Garatsu, "black Karatsu," by contrast, employs a heavily iron-bearing glaze that ranges, depending on the firing, from warm amber-brown to deep, matte black. Alongside these stand their quieter relatives: Mishima-Garatsu with stamped and white-inlaid patterns after Korean models, Kohiki-Garatsu with a white slip coating over a dark body, and Okugōrai, plain tea bowls in the formal idiom of everyday Korean vessels. Together they form a spectrum ranging from near-monochrome austerity to vigorous movement.
Ichi Raku, ni Hagi, san Karatsu
Among tea practitioners a ranking has long circulated that has become established in Japan as a mnemonic: "Ichi Raku, ni Hagi, san Karatsu" – first Raku, then Hagi, then Karatsu. This refers to the three traditions whose chawan (tea bowls) are held in highest regard in the tea ceremony. That an originally rustic utilitarian ware made it onto this list at all says much about the taste of the Momoyama period: what was sought was not flawless symmetry, but a vessel that does not conceal its origin in earth and fire. In Karatsu there is a saying to this effect – the maker contributes eight tenths, the user two. Only use completes a piece. Over the years, tea and sake seep into the open-pored body and gradually change its tone; a bowl used daily looks noticeably different after years than it did on the first day.
From Decline to Revival in the 20th Century
The rise of porcelain became a problem for Karatsu ware. Starting in 1616, porcelain was produced in nearby Arita, and many potters moved away to the new, more lucrative workshops. In 1637 the Saga domain ordered a consolidation of the kiln landscape, in the course of which numerous kilns were closed and potters were expelled; only a few kilns survived, because they were kept running for tea ware. After the end of the feudal system in the Meiji period, production continued to decline. The decisive turning point was brought about by Nakazato Muan (1895–1985), who, as the twelfth bearer of the name Nakazato Tarōemon, examined the old kiln sites, studied shards, and made the buried techniques available again – among them the Tataki beating technique as well as Madara, Chōsen, and E-Garatsu. In 1976 he was recognized for this as Ningen Kokuhō, a "Living National Treasure." Anyone who wants to buy Karatsu ware today therefore draws on a living landscape of workshops: in the city of Karatsu alone, around seventy workshops are active.
A Vessel That Is Only Finished Through Use
A Karatsu sake cup is not a display piece. It sits heavy and grainy in the hand, the foot ring scrapes lightly across the table, and the rim is never quite round. Fill it, and the colors shift: what looks dry gray turns to warm brown when wet, and the flecks in the glaze stand out more clearly. This is exactly what this pottery is made for – for use, for repetition, for the slow change over years. At densho.de you will find handcrafted Japanese ceramic unique works that carry this attitude forward, each piece sourced individually from Japan. Anyone who wants to buy a Japanese sake cup that does not aim to look perfect, but instead finds its way a little closer to itself with every evening, is in exactly the right place with these earthy vessels from Kyūshū and their relatives from Bizen, Shigaraki, and Tamba.
Sources and Literature
The Metropolitan Museum of Art: Sake Cup (Guinomi), Acc. No. 1975.268.447, metmuseum.org.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art: Small Jar (Kotsubo), Acc. No. 29.100.632, metmuseum.org.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art: Platter (Ōzara) with Pine Tree, Acc. No. 2015.300.266, metmuseum.org.
Richard L. Wilson: Inside Japanese Ceramics. A Primer of Materials, Techniques, and Traditions. Weatherhill, New York 1995.