A brushstroke that captures the wind.

The story of Hakeme (刷毛目) began not in a palace, but in the humble workshops of the Joseon dynasty in Korea. It was born from necessity, a practical way for commoners to coat dark, coarse clay with a white slip, mimicking the pale porcelain reserved for the ruling class. The brush, often made from stiff rice straw, was pulled across the clay with speed and honesty, leaving behind a trail of layered, rhythmic strokes.

When Japanese tea masters first encountered these bowls in the 16th century, they saw something the original potters hadn’t intended: the perfect expression of wabi. They found beauty in the visible evidence of the maker’s hand, the imperfections, the raw energy, and the quiet dignity of the incomplete.

The Hand of a Kyoto Master

This particular piece is the work of Yasuda Tomohiko (安田友彦), a Kyoto-based studio potter who dedicated his life to the classical Kyo-yaki tradition. It carries his hand-incised signature and rests in its original tomobako (wooden box), the ultimate mark of a craftsman who believed his work was worthy of being preserved for generations.

The Dance of Light and Clay

The hakeme on this bowl is confident and unhurried. Broad strokes of white slip sweep across the warm, earthy clay body, finished with a soft ash glaze that adds a subtle, translucent depth. As you turn the bowl in your hands, the brushwork catches the light differently at every angle, revealing new textures and shadows.

The form is generous and grounded, designed to fit naturally in the palms. The wide mouth invites you to whisk your matcha with ease, watching the vibrant green foam contrast against the stark, snowy white of the slip.

To use this chawan is to embrace the philosophy that nothing is perfect, nothing is finished, and nothing lasts, and that in this realization, there is profound peace.

This is a unique antique piece. Only one exists.