Journal

And what rhythms they are. Isezaki has a broad range of typologies – chawan (teabowls) of angular, chamfered or rounded shape; stately ridged hanaire (flower vases); torqued mizusashi (water jars) – and he infuses each of them with unique character in every piece. The present exhibition at Ippodo Gallery features a new idea: closed-off hemispherical bowls and taller globular vases, corrugated with thick ribs across their tops.

Each of these pieces has a pronounced rift in it, a motif more geological than artisanal, which admits a partial view into its dark interior. One of the great pleasures of the show is its elastic treatment of the established Bizen repertoire. In some pieces he stays close to his roots, while in others he plows new ground. He has not always stayed close to home – he spent two influential years in the Hudson Valley studio of Jeff Shapiro, a former apprentice of Jun Isezaki and one of America’s great exponents of woodfired ceramics, who encouraged Kōichiro to find his own individual voice. Today, he clearly regards tradition and innovation as completely compatible: not an opposition, but a spectrum to be explored.  

All this makes for an extremely rich backdrop, but there is no doubt that the Yō series takes center stage. To make these pieces, Isezaki uses a sticky clay sourced from rice paddies – a material with a strong personality, as he says, “easy-going and carefree” – which allows him to realize soft, voluminous contours. It is worth noting that he once studied wood carving, a subtractive technique that lends itself well to shaping irregular volumes. The influence of that other medium may possibly be felt in the taut yet unpredictable contours of these vessels. They combine the subtle contrapposto of classical sculpture with the imaginative abstraction of a Brancusi or a Henry Moore. Unquestionably, however, these forms evolve from Isezaki’s profound understanding of ceramics, a medium in which the conversation between interior and exterior is always vital. “Which decides the form, the inside or outside?,” Isezaki is sometimes asked, to which he responds: “well, both come simultaneously.” As he twists and folds the pliant clay, it seems to quicken into something like sentience; the vessel is like an infant in the first moment of consciousness, drawing in a first breath.

The title of the series, then, is well chosen. These works do materialize the idea of “conception,” both in the sense of a new idea and a newborn life. Like other phenomena associated with the word Yō – those billowing sails and unfurling leaves – these objects pulse with the generative energies of nature. The elements of earth, water, and fire course through his creations: forms of potency so vast, so ancient, that they dwarf our humble human actions. The greatest ceramic artists – and Isezaki is certainly one of them – find new ways to channel these forces while also remaining respectful of them. It is a fine balance, as rigorously demanding as a ballet, as exploratory as avant garde choreography. Take up one of his vessels in your hands, and feel its surprising lightness. Feel yourself becoming its dance partner, as he has been. For poise, for strength, for sheer creativity, you will never find a more consummate performer than Kōichiro Isezaki.  

– Glenn Adamson, 2025