When you take over as the second generation in a craft, and set out to create its history, are you simply following in the footsteps of your master, or are you striving to surpass them? We delve into the answer reached by Ishiyama Jin, who dedicates himself to creating unique stone vessels, as he seeks to define "what makes me, me."
Takashi Miwa, Second Generation Ishiyama Jin
The second-generation artisan of Ishiyama Jinkobo, a ceramist who creates vessels from fire and stone. He apprenticed under Mr. Soichiro, the first-generation Ishiyama Jin and a modern master who received the Yellow Ribbon Medal, starting in 2015, and succeeded him as the second generation. Based in Hashima City, Gifu Prefecture, he creates stone vessels such as matcha bowls, sake cups, and flower vases using a unique technique of cutting, shaping, and then high-temperature firing selected rocks (igneous rock) from naturally occurring magnetic rock. He has also held solo exhibitions and shows at Tofuku-ji sub-temple Komyo-in, Ginza Mitsukoshi, and the Palace Hotel Tokyo.
(*Article content is based on information at the time of interview)
#3 The Master's Amazing Skill, Having Faced Stone for Decades
There's no efficiency or shortcut to training your eye; it's a sum of time and experience.
──So you've mastered the properties of stone, succeeded to the second generation, and are developing new techniques.
But still, my master is amazing. The place where he puts the chisel is different. I break it from a little further out, but my master breaks it in one go. And then a perfect surface appears. He never fails. It's something only possible because he can perfectly read the grain of the stone, and I can't compete with that.
──Is the grain of stone that difficult to discern?
The grain of stone is not uniform even within a single stone. The flow of magma is convoluted, so even if you think you see it at first glance, it might be twisted underneath. That's why I still can't perfectly discern it. The fact that my master can understand it instantly is, I believe, the wisdom gained from decades of observing stone. Surpassing my master is not easy.
──Is it better if the stone splits perfectly along the grain on the first try?
I have a feeling that the more times you strike, the further away you get from "emptiness." But that moment when you can split the stone exactly where it wants to be, as if saying "isn't it here?", that's exhilarating.
This isn't something that can be achieved in just 13 years or so; it's purely a sum of time and experience. It will never be a multiplication.
#4 Discovering the "Self" of the Second Generation
From numerous failures to acquiring personal techniques and philosophies
──I sense a strong reverence for your predecessor.
Of course, I respect my master, and while he was alive, I would always start sentences with "My master, my master..." But when I inherited the second generation, I realized that I couldn't continue like that forever.
──Did you become aware of this after inheriting?
A certain tea master often asked me, "I understand your master. But what do YOU want to do?" As I reflected on "Who am I?", "Why did I want to make stone vessels in the first place?", "Why did I continue this with my master for 10 years?", and "Why am I still creating, even sacrificing so much, three years after my master's passing?", I began to want to establish my own identity.
──Establishing yourself... that's not easy, is it?
I didn't know the answer of what to do, but the first thing I thought of was bending stone. This was a largely unexplored area for my master as well, so I thought if I pursued it thoroughly, I could say, "This is me."
──Were you successful in your pursuit of individuality?
When I tried to bend various stone vessels, from special matcha bowls to small sake cups, they really warped, and of course, I failed a lot.
But through those failures, I learned the bending points based on the properties of the stone, and I began to think philosophically about what it means to bend stone.
──Instead of carving, you bend. Please tell us about the dedication you put into that.
To "bend stone" is my simple desire. Certainly, this shape could probably be achieved by carving it out. But I don't think that's it. Being able to bend stone is what defines Ishiyama Jin. More precisely, being able to bend stone is what defines the second-generation Ishiyama Jin, and I want to show that the second generation will do things in an extreme way, going above and beyond.
#5 All traditions were once startups
Driven by initial impulse, stone vessels become a 300-year tradition
──Does that mean you're trying to surpass your master and create a distinction?
It's a little different from trying to surpass my master. I think it's about stepping away from my master for a while, creating my own work, learning one thing by doing ten, and then returning to my master. It's a continuous cycle. It's like having my own pillar next to the great pillar of the first generation Ishiyama Jin. There's no need to separate or go above. I think that's my way of continuing the name "Ishiyama Jin."
──That's a very interesting story.
What I inherited from my master is this unique technique of carving and bending stone to create vessels, and I've been given the task of "continuing it for 300 years." This requires me to consider training a third and fourth generation.
──Did you have any hesitation or conflict about inheriting?
I served my master for 10 years, learning the techniques, and then I inherited the second generation when he passed away. I purely wanted to inherit it, and the reason was that I "loved it" and "wanted to create."
I mentioned earlier that I was asked, "Don't say 'My master,' but 'What do you think?'" I agonized over it, and the answer I finally arrived at was, "Because it's cool." In the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rice fields in Hashima, Gifu, there was an old man over 70 making vessels out of stone, and those vessels were so incredibly cool. I was captivated. "I want to make this!" That initial, pure desire still drives me today, I believe.
──It comes across that the strength of pure emotion, rather than lofty ideals, is the source of everything.
My master's path eventually ended, and there was no path ahead of me, just darkness. But conversely, that meant I could create any path I wanted, and a blue ocean lay before me. That is the greatest appeal of making these vessels.
There's still so much to be done with stone as a material, and I believe that my future successes and failures will become a textbook, and indeed, a history, for stone vessels.
──You are both a successor and a pioneer.
It's been about 70 years since my master started Ishiyama Jin. It's not a long history yet. But all traditions must have had a starting point, and when I think about what it was like back then, I think it was "me, now."
"Making stone vessels is too interesting," and "Am I not creating history?" The joy of doing these two things in parallel is invaluable. That is the impulse at the root of my vessel making.
──Impulse, that's good.
I was 35 when I became an apprentice, but I feel like my "chuunibyou" (eighth-grade syndrome) relapsed at 35 (laughs). At the same time, my family's understanding and support, and the encouragement from various people, are also great motivators. I'm happy if people think making stone vessels is cool, and that's why I want to keep creating new things, wondering what to do next or what might be interesting.
