Well, the wind is starting to carry the scent of winter, isn't it?
How is everyone doing?
Around here, we’ve finished cleaning up after the Bizen Pottery Festival,
and we’re just now starting to get back to our usual routine.
Autumn really is the season for food, isn't it?
With so many delicious things to eat, it truly is the season for "the sky being high and the potter growing plump."
However, it’s getting quite chilly, so please be sure to take care and avoid catching a cold.
And actually, autumn in Bizen has a unique—shall we say—flavor.
Yes, it’s the autumn of kiln openings.
As a matter of fact, I recently visited the kiln openings of Masamune-sensei and Kazuhiro Mori-sensei.
Masamune-sensei’s kiln opening was a very lively affair, with everyone chatting away.
It seemed Masamune-sensei had managed to get his hands on some very expensive vintage sake,
and he was in high spirits, saying, "Well now, today is a day to drink some good sake."
As for his work, the changes in the clay gave them a more austere finish than usual.
The texture was also quite coarse (using a blend of clay from the Sampo area),
which raises high hopes for his next stage.
Meanwhile, I was able to talk with Kazuhiro Mori-sensei at length while taking a close look at his works.
I had a wonderful time, enjoying some delicious coffee served by his model-like wife.
What’s more, I was able to visit his studio in Sampo, which was a rare experience.
I plan to upload photos from that visit at a later date, but I’d like to share one image today.
This is the slope of the 50-meter Sampo large kiln.
It’s truly massive!
We have a small kiln of our own, but this is on a monster scale.
I find it incredible that they light a fire and bake in this kiln.
I can’t even imagine the internal temperature rising to 1,200 degrees.
Another thing that struck me was the natural harmony between the mountain and the kiln.
It was so perfectly integrated that I actually found myself asking, "Did you plant these pine trees later?"
It felt as though it had always existed exactly like that.
Incidentally, I learned that they had cut down pine trees and cleared the slope when they built the kiln.
And one can sense a similar atmosphere in the works of Kazuhiro Mori-sensei, too.
They have a quality that feels natural, as if they had always existed, even though they were clearly handcrafted.
It was a strange feeling—in that magnificent kiln, where the mountain itself felt like a part of the kiln, and yet the kiln was nowhere to be seen.
Perhaps there is an energy pulsating there that goes beyond the word "kiln."