For days spent searching only for the right answer. The important lesson that the 'fluctuations' of Hagi ware teach us.

Whether at work or in our private lives, we are constantly expected to find the 'right answer.' Efficiency, rationality, and blueprints without failure. When we spend our days in such a state of constant tension, don't we sometimes have moments where we want to touch something softer, something that doesn't have a clear answer?

In Hagi City, Yamaguchi Prefecture, where I live, there exists a mysterious 'fluctuation' that has been unraveling our hearts for 400 years.

It began with the 'challenge' of brothers who came from a foreign land.

At the dawn of the Edo period, two brothers, Ri Sako and Ri Kei, came to Hagi from the Korean Peninsula. Invited by Lord Mori, they opened a kiln from scratch in a land they did not know.

In modern terms, they were like engineers who packed only their passion and started a business in a foreign country. By studying the local soil, reading the wind, and repeating trial and error, they created pottery that could only be made in this land.

Why did 'incompleteness' become the highest value?

What is interesting is that what they were making in their hometown was not special art, but 'common vessels' used by ordinary people. A dramatic change occurred when these vessels crossed the sea and encountered the world of the Japanese 'tea ceremony' and the spirituality of the samurai.

In the Joseon Dynasty of that time, 'white porcelain' that was perfectly symmetrical and without a single cloud was considered the best. However, Japanese tea masters and samurai were different. Seeing the brothers' vessels, which were slightly distorted or had the roughness of the soil remaining, they were moved, saying, 'This is what is beautiful in its natural state.'

The 'spiritual margin' that the samurai sought

Why did the samurai, who spent their days in battle and felt death constantly by their side, seek such simple vessels?

Rather than something perfect and unchanging, there is the transience that all things with form will eventually break. Because it is incomplete, they could project their own hearts onto it and compose themselves. For those living on a battlefield with no 'right answer,' the fluctuations of Hagi ware may have been an important presence that returned them to their 'true self.'

Knowing the luxury of 'nurturing'

In Hagi ware, there is a phrase called 'Hagi no Nanabake' (the seven transformations of Hagi). As you use it, the tea soaks in, and the color of the vessel slowly changes to a moist texture. The moment you obtain it is not the goal; from there, it accumulates time together with the user.

Precisely because we are in an age where only efficiency and speed are demanded, I think that cherishing this 'slow change' is the greatest luxury of all.

Conclusion

I work on re-evaluating the value of old buildings and thinking about new forms of living. In doing so, what I always want to cherish is not something where 'the moment of completion is the most beautiful,' but rather craftsmanship with a margin that 'deepens together with the people who live there.'

The passion that the Ri brothers poured into this land of Hagi 400 years ago. And the rich sensibilities of the predecessors who discovered it. While thinking of that history, I am brewing coffee in my favorite Hagi ware cup today as well.

When you are a little tired of searching for the right answer, why not take a walk through the streets of Hagi? You will surely find a 'partner' that will mark time together with you.