It came from an order placed across the sea.

During the late Momoyama and early Edo periods, Japanese tea masters began sending detailed
instructions — gohon (御本), meaning “model” or “sample” — to kilns in Busan, Korea, requesting
specific forms, specific glazes, specific proportions. What came back were gohon chawan (御本茶碗): bowls made to Japanese specification but transformed by Korean clay and Korean fire into something no Japanese kiln could replicate.

The defining characteristic of gohonde (御本手) is the hi-iro (火色) — fire colour. The particular
iron content of the Busan clay, under specific kiln conditions, produced soft reddish-pink blushes
that appeared unpredictably across the cream surface. Japanese tea masters named these spots and treasured them as evidence of fire’s collaboration with the maker — beauty that could not be planned, only received.

This bowl carries a second distinction: the katakuchi (片口), a subtle pouring lip built into the rim. In the tea ceremony, the katakuchi form allows matcha to be transferred with particular grace — a functional detail that also changes the whole geometry of the piece, giving it an asymmetry that the eye returns to.

This piece.

Made by Seiwa-gama (清和窯), a Kyoto kiln working in the gohonde tradition. The form is momo-gata (桃形) — peach-shaped — a classical shape in which the body curves with an organic softness, the rim echoing the contour of a fruit held in the hand. The cream glaze carries the characteristic blush of gohonde, where iron in the clay met the fire and left its evidence.

The bowl comes in its original wooden box (共箱).

Some things begin as an order sent across water. And arrive as something no one expected.

Only one exists.