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Fingerprints on the Ding Yao White Porcelain

I recall a particular occasion when I was in my 30s. Out of the blue, I was contacted by the owner of a Tokyo gallery, and asked whether or not I would like to travel to Osaka in order to see an exhibition. Apparently, the owner of an antique shop down there had gathered together a number of individual examples of Ding Yao White Porcelain. Anyway, I took him up on his offer, and we ended up going down there in the company of the objet creator whom I have previously mentioned. Additionally, we were accompanied by a much older colleague who at the time was based at Kyoto’s Sennyu-ji Temple. That person was also known for dabbling in the production of objet on occasion. Upon attending the exhibition’s venue, we were confronted by numerous complete and major examples of the Ding Yao form. What is more, when the owner of the antique store realized the members of our little group were in attendance, he kindly took us aside to the glass showcases, and then proceeded to take out the different pieces that were on display one-by-one. He then handed each over to us for our closer inspection. When that took place, the tension of both of my colleagues and of the Tokyo gallery owner went through the roof. Thus, right then and there, in the middle of an exhibition venue, there commenced a rather passionate conversation among them about the clays, the carvings, the glazing, and the firings, etc., of the various pieces. Meanwhile, and by comparison, in that I did not become that motivated to participate in such discussions because despite my exposure to any number of antique pieces, my passion for such had never really developed, I instead looked on somewhat bemusedly at the vigor with which my colleagues were talking. Indeed, my own feelings did not really go beyond feeling that such animated behavior was quite unusual. Nevertheless, I was unashamedly surprised when, upon overturning a large bowl so that I could better inspect it while placing it on a cushion so as to prevent any damage, on the outer edge of its base I clearly saw evidence of an ancient potter’s fingerprint. When such also came to my colleagues’ notice, their conversation ramped up even further as they tried to establish at just what point in the production process such an indelible and personal mark was inadvertently applied. From my own perspective, there was no doubt that such a blemish had been caused by an errant fingertip.


Personally, on seeing what I saw, I felt that such represented a form of affirmation, that some 1000 years ago, a now unknown potter was both alive on this earth and actively plying his trade. Subsequently, the conversation of my colleagues ceased once they reached the point of talking about such in the context of the historical romance of eternity. Additionally, as we returned home, I sensed that all in our group had been emotionally touched by what we had witnessed.


Next, to touch upon the reactions of my colleagues, I had initially assumed those who were objet creators were perhaps not that much interested in the subject of antiques. However, based on what I now know, I can say here and now that such a presumption on my part was totally wrong. Likewise, I thought they only possessed a relative interest in pottery. However, it turned out that their level of passion bordered on that of a mania. It was almost like they had been transformed into antique geeks.


Again, as previously mentioned, I did not actively participate in the discussions of my traveling companions. Having said that, upon reflection, I somewhat reproached myself for not having become a pottery geek myself. Nevertheless, and this might sound rather simple, since the aforementioned exhibition, you might well encounter me lazily walking down certain streets two or three times a week, such being known for their numerous antique shops.

Fingerprints on the Ding Yao White Porcelain

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