Gafu Ito opened his own shop in 2012 and has been making pottery in his hometown of Tokoname City for a period of 11 years now. I was originally surprised to hear about his background playing baseball and track and field while he was a student, but once I actually met him in person and saw that he stood over 180cm tall with a rather sturdy build, it immediately made sense. He said that he enjoyed playing baseball more than watching it. Gafu attended a high school that had a ceramics department where its students could study the art of pottery. As a person born and raised in Tokoname, he took an interest in pottery as it somehow seemed familiar to him.

“I knew I wanted to work in turnery, but teapots were a bit beyond my skill level at the time, so I never even gave them a try. I then attended a university where I could study pottery, and while there, I went to the Yakimono Sanpomichi (a tourist spot that consists of a walking trail near Tokoname Station) with some friends. It was my first time visiting there, despite being born and raised in the city, so I got the opportunity to see teapots up close. I realized just how amazing such pieces were, and that was when I started trying to make my own.”

Gafu took an interest in teapots because he felt “they were the most difficult kind of pottery to make.” He was determined to take on the toughest challenge first, convinced that if he could master them, he’d be able to make pretty much any kind of pottery thereafter.

On spring break during his second year of university, Gafu was fortunate to make a life-changing encounter. He became an apprentice under Fugetsu Murakoshi, a master teapot craftsman in Tokoname. Similarly, to Murakoshi—who wished to teach people who were not only local to the area, but wanted to continue making teapots in Tokoname as well—Gafu was an ideal student to take under his wing.

“My name ‘Gafu’ comes from the kanji character ‘ga’ (elegant) in my real name, and ‘fu’ (wind) from my mentor’s name. So it basically means a kind of elegant wind or breeze. I often encounter people who expected me to be much older due to my name (laughs).”

After opening his own shop, there were times when his teapots didn’t sell particularly well, but his high-quality work eventually caught the eye of a gallerist, which led to him gaining a following throughout the country. Today, his works’ popularity ensures that they are hard to obtain at his individual exhibitions, which are only held once per year.

The appeal of Gafu’s teapots lies in their sense of refined beauty, which is conveyed without being overly garish. So, how do such teapots come to life within Gafu’s hands? I asked him to demonstrate what goes into his work.

“I suppose it might seem rather easy after seeing this come together so quickly,” Gafu remarks. Naturally, though, it is a testament to his skill as a craftsman that it looks so simple, and since this was merely a demonstration of the process, he skipped many of the steps that his work typically demands. Despite that, however, seeing a single lump of clay give rise to such a beautiful shape is a magical experience.

Gafu usually plans his production schedule on a weekly basis and makes up to 20 to 30 pieces in that time, and while a particularly fast worker can make around 80 to 100 pieces over the same period, he is the first to admit that his pace is rather slow in comparison.

Even after the pieces have been fired, some will naturally have scratches or other flaws, and he ends up destroying them if he’s not completely satisfied with the balance or lines of the finished product. When he says he “isn’t able to make them in larger quantities,” you can tell it is a genuine concern.

What makes a good teapot?

As Gafu explains the details and sense of care that go into making his teapots, he asks me a rather pointed question out of the blue.

“What do you think makes a good teapot?”

Initially caught by surprise, I manage to stammer out a response, something about that amazing feeling you get when you take a light, well-crafted teapot in your hand, or how adept they are at draining water, for example.

Gafu gives an immediate response to my answer.

“I think of it as being much simpler really. Ideally, a teapot should make people want to use it to make tea. That’s my take on it at least.”

I find myself surprised by the layers of depth behind his seemingly simple response.

Gafu’s teapots are made with such precision that they seem to lack any discernible flaws whatsoever. As a result, you’d never expect such an answer from the person who crafted such a masterpiece.

“In Tokoname, there are teapots made by people considered living national treasures, but that doesn’t mean that such teapots are unbelievably light, or that water never drips from them, or that the lid always remains perfectly in place. Some parts of the teapot need to be thicker than others, and above all, I think having a sense of overall balance is the most important thing. When considering the idea of craftsmanship in this field, there is a tendency to try and make things as light as possible, or to ensure that the lid fits perfectly, but in the end, I think you just come back to the question, ‘Does it work as intended?’ That is why I like the utter lack of pretension that you get from older teapots.”

I still wondered what a lack of pretension really meant. Does that mean that the artist’s personality and intent have been properly expressed? There is still much I don’t understand about this art form. However, that element of whether the teapot instills in you the desire to make tea or not is a standard by which I feel everyone should adopt for themselves. While teapots and everything that goes into them can often seem daunting at first, the true test is whether they convey that feeling of inspiration or not. Therefore, it’s probably best to simply take an honest look at it, and decide how you feel upon touching it and actually using it.

As our time together comes to an end, Gafu brews my favorite tea in one of his teapots: “Sunflower Roasted Oolong Tea” produced by Kogane Midori Tea Garden in Morokozawa, Shizuoka City, Shizuoka Prefecture. The teapot he uses is even made from soil taken from those tea fields. You can’t make tea or teapots without using soil, so the pairing of the two really makes you aware of the connection between them.

Gafu also makes teapot-shaped cookies using rice flour infused with the very same tea leaves. Indeed, Gafu considers cooking and baking to be both a chore and a hobby. His true passion, however, is making teapots.

Now that I’ve gotten to know more about him and his love for teapots, I’ve found that I’ve grown even fonder of his creations than before the interview started.

Gafu Ito
Born in Tokoname City in Aichi Prefecture in 1988. Upon his graduation from Tokoname High School’s Ceramics Department, he went on to study pottery as part of his industrial and arts courses at Nagoya Zokei University. While still in university, he began studying under Fugetsu Murakoshi in 2009. He then set out on his own in 2012, opening a shop in Tokoname. He will be hosting an exhibition at the Utsuwa Note Gallery in Kawagoe City, Saitama Prefecture, from December 14–21, 2024.
instagram.com/gafu_ito

Photo by Mishio Wada
Text (originally in Japanese) by Yoshiki Tatezaki