In the hills around Mashiko, a handful of potters still share a climbing kiln that burns for three days and nights. The flame travels from chamber to chamber, carrying ash that melts into the glaze.
The result is a surface no recipe can repeat: speckles where the ash settled, a glassy run where the flame lingered, a matte shoulder on the side that faced the wall.
When you buy a wood-fired cup you buy the weather of that firing. That is why we photograph every batch and number every piece.
2 Comments
I tried the hand-wash tip and my mugs look new again.
Such a thoughtful article. It makes me appreciate the pieces I already own.