Ceramics. When it comes down to it, it’s just personal preference.

The omnipotent Hidetoshi disliked the black tea bowls favored by Rikyu.

Rosanjin, in the quest for the ideal bowl, built his own kiln.

My own mother will grab a matcha bowl she fancies because “it’s perfect for the next tea ceremony,” but is always less than quick to return it.

To each his own when it comes to color, shape, texture and size. Completely differing, individual tastes are what make ceramics so interesting.

I myself have a number of favorite contemporary ceramic artisans that I feel create truly fine pieces.

Last summer. A friend and I stopped by the Yokohama Red Brick Warehouse where up-and-coming young artists were gathered for a ceramics exhibition.

I happened upon a booth and saw a piece by an artist with whom I wasn’t familiar. It captured my heart and wouldn’t let go.

As luck would have it, I had just made a rather expensive purchase just a few days earlier,

so I’d left the house swearing to myself, “I’m not going to buy anything at all today.”

In the end, however, I gave into my desires.

A year and a half later, I attended the Kiyomizu ware pottery festival.

Yet again I found one or two more pieces that I found very interesting.

Displayed on the shelf from which I took a bowl was another bowl that looked familiar.

There was also someone who looked familiar, smiling and chatting with customers.

The bowl and person that I’d seen at the Red Brick Warehouse.

Ken Sakamoto.

According to Sakamoto-san, “Oh, opinions differ with that bowl.”

Among his pieces, this one was particularly “unique”, or rather, “aggressive”,

and seemed to nail my strike zone, dead center.

Although I had gone that day specifically to purchase a splendid matcha bowl,

instead, I stuffed my travel bag with a green-colored ido-gata (well-shaped) matcha bowl that somewhat resembled a bronze bowl;

a powerful, asymmetrical, lipped bowl that looked suitable for arranging vegetables in; and

a distinctive, large-sized sake cup that had a texture that felt as though the surface had been, to use a misnomer, dusted with cayenne pepper.

I boarded the bus home from the Kiyomizu with a total of three pieces.

Then, at the year’s end, on the way home from a business trip to Kobe, I stopped at Sakai city in Osaka, which happens to also be the hometown of Rikyu. Uninvited, I went to see Sakamoto-san’s kiln, unabashedly asking,

“I’d like to buy something to use as a gift, but do you have anything suitable?”,

upon which I was shown his kiln and his creations.

Due to our closeness in age and our somehow similar temperaments, we hit it off.

That day, I lingered on until late and ended up having him eat dinner with me.

Although I kept saying I was looking for a gift, I ended up getting something for myself, as well.

I bought up a total of 4 large-sized black sake cups that had the rough texture of having been just pulled from a kiln, and arranged to have them sent the next day in boxes authenticated with his signature.

His pieces make sake taste better, and meals taste better.

Although somewhat obvious, a piece that “begs to be possessed”, is

in other words, a piece that matches your sentiment toward “food” and “beauty”;

and recently, my sentiment is reaffirmed each time I use somewhat titillating ceramic pieces, old pre-Edo ceramics, and of course Sakamoto-san’s pieces.

And back to Rosanjin, I have no doubt in my mind that ultimately his objective was to enjoy delicious meals and, in order to do so,

he took up pottery and built a kiln in Kamakura where the fruits of the sea and the fruits of the forest are bountiful.

That’s right. I almost forgot. Through February 16, 2016, a special dining decor fair will be held on the 5th floor of the Shinjuku Isetan and

it seems Sakamoto-san’s work will be sold there.

I apologize that the information is lacking, but anyone who’s interested should definitely

look at it, take it in their hands, imagine drinking sake from it or garnishing it with delicious foods.

And if you like it, I hope that you’ll buy it.

“Oh, opinions differ with that bowl.”

You are bound to see pieces that match his description of “that bowl”, and most likely displayed next to more subdued pieces.

If others also get hooked on his pieces upon which “opinions differ”,

I’m going to be pretty pleased.