By Devika Sehgal
Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to visit Japan, an experience deeply enriching both personally and professionally. For any ceramic artist, Japan is more than a destination; it’s a pilgrimage. While the country's ceramics legacy stretches far and wide, one of the highlights of my journey was my visit to Tokoname, one of Japan’s Six Ancient Kilns (Rokkoyō: 12th and 15th centuries), a town that has fired clay for over a thousand years.
Tokoname lies on the western coast of the Chita Peninsula in Aichi Prefecture. As I walked through its quiet lanes, I was surrounded by echoes of the past. Unbelievable rows of climbing kilns (noborigama), narrow alleys lined with fired ceramic pipes and shochu jars, and smoke-blackened brick walls whispering stories of generations of potters.
Among the most awe-inspiring sites was the Tōei Kiln, one of the largest climbing kilns in Japan, built in 1887. With its ten firing chambers and six chimneys cascading uphill, it was capable of firing tens of thousands of pieces at once. Though no longer active, it remains a symbol of Tokoname’s golden era and the craftsmanship that defined it.
It’s said that during the Meiji and Taishō periods, the kiln would remain fired for over 10 days straight, tended to round the clock by teams of potters and apprentices.
The legacy of wood-fired kilns (anagama and noborigama) in Japan is profound. These kilns created natural ash glazes, a serendipitous alchemy between fire, wood ash, and minerals in the clay. The result is often unpredictable and deeply beautiful, glossy green shino, molten orange oribe, and earthy yakishime stoneware that celebrate the kiln’s own organic touch.
What makes Tokoname exceptional today is not just its legacy but its continuity. Walking the Yakimono Sanpomichi (Pottery Footpath), I visited small, tucked-away studios of contemporary potters carrying forward centuries-old traditions.
Many specialize in kyūsu, the quintessential Japanese side-handled teapot.
The teapots I encountered were breathtaking in their precision. Made from Tokoname’s signature red clay (shudei), these teapots are not merely functional objects but studies in balance, ergonomics, and restraint.
Clay bodies are meticulously selected and refined. The throwing is razor-sharp yet quiet. The lids fit with near-vacuum precision, a result of years of dedication and respect for the material. I watched a potter create the mesh inside the teapot, which in itself was an art piece.
“In Tokoname, the potter’s aim is not to dazzle, but to disappear so that the object may speak clearly for itself.” Yakimono: The Art of Japanese Ceramics by Kyoko Tokuno (1993)
Yushi Ito works with remarkable sensitivity to both form and surface. His minimalist teapots possess a meditative balance, quiet, precise, and grounded. He speaks of clay not as a material to be shaped, but as a partner to be listened to.
Watching him work, I was struck by the fluidity of his motion, every gesture honed over years of repetition and reflection.
“In each teapot, I try to leave behind the sound of silence. It is my way of respecting the tea.”
Kazuko Uga works at the intersection of tradition and innovation. She is a master of liquid porcelain and slip-casting, a process in which liquid clay is poured into molds to create elegant, intricate forms.
Her creations are delicate and light, yet grounded in strong form and tradition. Her minimalist aesthetic emphasizes pure, pale surfaces with soft undulations that highlight the translucency of porcelain itself.
Uga’s ceramics embody the Japanese concept of Shibui, a beauty that is subtle, unobtrusive, and deeply refined.
As I stood in those studios, I couldn’t help but think of Gurcharan Singh, lovingly known as Daddyji, who is considered the father of studio pottery in India. In the 1950s, he traveled extensively in Japan, including a visit to Shoji Hamada's studio in Mashiko.
It was here that he was deeply inspired by the Japanese philosophy of mingei, craft as a vital and spiritual act.
His work, and the founding of Delhi Blue Pottery Trust, was influenced by the humility in process, dedication to form, and belief that handmade objects carry the maker’s soul.
“The Japanese taught me that clay is not a material, it’s a way of life.” Gurcharan Singh, Pottery in India by Ruth Reeves, Lalit Kala Akademi Archives
What I brought back from Tokoname was more than inspiration, it was a reminder. In modern studios with electric kilns and precision tools, it’s easy to forget the elemental nature of this craft.
The potters of Tokoname work in rhythm with wood, fire, and earth. They accept imperfections as gifts, not flaws. Their practice is spiritual, humble, and slow.
There is something powerful in remembering that our hands are not merely shaping clay; they are participating in an ancient conversation with nature and history.
My takeaway in a nutshell is that we all carry a guiding spirit. Whether we work with gas kilns or electric ones, whether we throw on the wheel or hand-build, we are all walking the same path, a path that winds through places like Tokoname, Dharamshala, and Gurgaon alike.
If you ever find yourself in Japan, I urge you to walk Tokoname’s Pottery Footpath, visit the studios, and feel the clay under your feet. It might just change the way you touch it with your hands.
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Feb 05,2026