Japanese Zen Ceramics – Asymmetry, Imperfection and Destruction
In addition to the controlled accident offered by anagama wood firing process, Japanese Zen ceramics ware offered Voulkos insight into very different aesthetic ideals. Unlike the canon of traditional western European ceramics that favored symmetry and perfection, the Japanese Zen ceramic tradition prized opposing elements such as asymmetry, imperfection and even destruction.
Despite the obvious affinity between Voulkos’ ceramics and Japanese Zen ceramics, Rose Slivka and John Coplans downplayed its influence in favor of establishing Voulkos as an all-American, Abstract Expressionist hero. In her article, Slivka referenced to Zen ceramics as being “crude,” while Coplans described them as being “dumpy.” These unflattering descriptions can be seen as a way of rejecting Eastern influence in favor of upholding a unique all-American identity. It also mirrors America’s struggle for cultural supremacy during the Cold War and its strained relations with Eastern countries like Japan and Vietnam.
In spite of Slivka’s and Coplans’ attempts to modulate the influence of Japanese ceramics, it remained a consistent source of influence throughout Voulkos’ career. In 1952, Voulkos met Shoji Hamada, the renowned Japanese potter, at the Archie Bray Foundation. At the time, Hamada was on a national tour, giving wheel-throwing demonstrations throughout the United States. During the visit, Voulkos served as Hamada’s temporary assistant, where he would manually kick the pottery kick-wheel on which Hamada was working. Subsequently, Voulkos developed a deep sense of respect for Hamada’s wheel-throwing techniques. Today, the influence of Japanese pottery can be seen in the various tea bowls that Voulkos threw in homage to the Japanese chawan or tea bowl, a quintessential vessel used in the traditional Japanese Zen tea ceremony. Tea bowl (1935-50) by Hamada is an example of a Japanese chawan. On the tea bowl, there appears to be a vertical, wavy space that Hamada purposely left unglazed, thus revealing the gritty texture of the dark brown clay body. By adding an element that disrupts the appearance of the evenly glazed vessel, the potter gives it an unexpected touch of imperfection.
Over the decades, Voulkos’ tea bowls began to reflect an increasing sense of asymmetry and imperfection. Two examples are Tea Bowl (1951-3) and Tea Bowl (1990). While asymmetry and imperfection are apparent in the subtle irregularities of both form and in the chevron pattern in Tea Bowl (1951-3), they are dramatically emphasized in his later piece, Tea Bowl (1990). With the latter, the entire clay body is irregularly shaped, with two small wads of clay that are pressed against the side. In addition to sporting a lip that is uneven in height, its irregularly shaped foot appears to have a chunk of clay torn away from it.
Unlike the symmetry and perfection of classical Greek vases, the stoutly shaped Japanese Zen chawans are prized for their imperfection, asymmetry, and to an extent, the display of signifiers of destruction. Far from being seen as undesirable, such elements came to be valued rather than disguised. Late in his career, Voulkos discussed the influence of Japanese ceramics by comparing his stacked vessel forms to the Japanese chawan. An example of this is Voulkos’ Ice Bucket (1993). The asymmetrical vessel form is made from three layers of stoneware clay that have warped under the pressures of gravity. Along with its uneven surface coloration and patched up clay body, Ice Bucket reflects the ideas of imperfection and destruction.
A technique used in Japanese Zen ceramics that resonates with Voulkos’ Ice Bucket is kintsugi. Roughly translated as “golden joinery,” the kintsugi technique stems from Zen Buddhist notions of impermanence and imperfection. An example of this is a kintsugi tea bowl entitled Seppo (Snowy Peaks) (16th Century), which was restored by Honami Koetsu, who used lacquer and gold to fill in and thus, highlight the gaps where it was previously broken.
At a glance, the kintsugi technique bears similarity with Voulkos’ technique in Ice Bucket, in that both cases involve the use of a small amount of material to repair a crack or gap on the clay body of a vessel. However, even though Japanese Zen ceramic ware, with its culturally specific notions of imperfection and destruction, was a source of inspiration in Voulkos’ work, close observation of the ceramist’s working process reveals that he was ultimately uninterested in replicating the Japanese aesthetic. With the kintsugi technique, imperfection and destruction are prized under the condition that they are tempered with function and elegance. In contrast, Voulkos sought to pursue an aesthetic that was non-functional and highly volatile, pushing the physical limits of wet and unfired clay in order to investigate the extent to which it can remain physically intact. This is not to say that Voulkos’ working approach or that of the Japanese Zen ceramists are in any way superior or inferior to each other. Rather, both ways of working are based upon very different aims and values.
Voulkos’ lack of interest in functionality can be seen in an interview where he commented that his Ice Buckets series were all cracked. Jokingly he added that they “leak out the water so all you have is ice,” a comment that reflects the sense of acceptance, adaptability and above all, humor that is distinct to Zen Buddhism. Rather than seeing the imperfections in his work in a negative light, Voulkos, who was capable of throwing perfect vessels, eventually came to view cracks and warping as an alternative visual possibility of the ceramic medium. By recognizing the conceptual potential of the philosophical ideas imbedded in Japanese Zen Buddhist ceramics, the ceramist saw them as points of departure that led him to challenge the established canons of traditional western European aesthetics and Japanese Zen ceramics. By doing so, Voulkos was ultimately able to forge a unique aesthetic of his own.
