TOKKURI, Buncheong ware with slip-coated brush-marked design, Joseon Dynasty (1392–1897 CE)
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A Joseon-period tokkuri with buncheong slip and a brush-marked slip coating.
Shaped as a small tokkuri (sake bottle), it tapers from a gently rounded, swollen body to a slender neck, the rim flaring outward. Height 13 cm. Though small enough to sit comfortably in the hand, the body has a substantial presence, resulting in a well-proportioned tokkuri form.
Buncheong ware is a type of pottery produced primarily in the early Joseon period. Distinct from celadon, it uses white slip decoration: some pieces have white slip applied with a brush, others are finished with a white, powdery surface, and some incorporate sgraffito or iron-painted ornament. In this example, the white slip is applied thinly across the vessel’s surface, leaving brush marks and the color of the clay visible beneath the transparent glaze.
The glaze is a bluish-gray white. Fine crazing covers the surface, and on the lower half of the body there are brush-mark traces and areas where the glaze has pooled and darkened. Around the foot the clay’s earthy texture is pronounced, forming a clear contrast with the white body.
Abrasion and glaze loss are present on the rim. The neck and body exhibit crazing, small iron spots, and soiling. Soil adheres to the foot.
A small buncheong sake bottle with a bluish-white glaze, fine crazing, and a well-expressed clay texture on the lower body.
Numerous product photos are available for you to examine the details and condition. Should you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact us.
Its aesthetic placed emphasis not on surface splendor or technical virtuosity, but on forms and modes of being that quietly support a person’s inner life. Vessels and furniture were not simply tools for use; they may also have served as a kind of “place of self-cultivation,” ordering one’s daily conduct and state of mind. A plain jar in a scholar’s study, a simple desk, an undecorated brush rest—these were objects before the eye, but also mirrors of one’s posture and thought.
It is no accident that crafts from the Joseon period possess a presence that “does not say too much.” They were made to accompany the inner life—not to overwhelm the viewer, but to breathe alongside us and quietly restore a sense of order.
In white porcelain, for example, such “unintended phenomena” as the slight flow of glaze, variations in the clay body, or slight irregularities of form were accepted as they were. They embody a spirit of broad acceptance, unlike the modern aesthetic that treats perfection and uniformity as the highest values. This view reconsiders the boundaries between nature and human making, beauty and imperfection, object and mind; it is not an exaggeration to say that it existed beyond the frame of craft as the spirit of an age.
If we were to name it, the beauty of Joseon is not a “beauty of display” but a “beauty of resonance.” Its beauty lies not solely in the attraction of the object itself, but in the opportunity it gives us to reconsider how a person ought to be through the object. For this reason, an object must not speak too much; it must contain intervals, open space, and silence. I cannot help feeling that such thought runs beneath the making of these objects.
These values eventually crossed the sea and took deep root in Japan. In the world of chanoyu in particular, Joseon white porcelain and buncheong ware were already being used by the Momoyama period. Their simple, quiet character—different from the solemn grandeur of Chinese karamono—came to be embraced. The tea aesthetic of “clearing the mind before what does not speak” resonated deeply with the silence and imperfection held in Joseon vessels, nurturing a gaze that found in them the spirit of wabi-sabi.
With the arrival of the modern era, thinkers of the Mingei movement such as Yanagi Sōetsu and Kawai Kanjirō found in Joseon vessels “the power to purify a person” and “a form of life as it ought to be.” At a time when craft was being forgotten, these objects were welcomed not merely as old vessels but, with profound sympathy and respect, as presences reflecting a way of living itself.
When I, living in the present day, encounter the crafts of Joseon, I am moved once again by their stillness. They contain the thought of an age that asked how a person should live and how one should be. That thought has not faded; it continues to resonate clearly even now.
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Tax excluded. Import duties may apply. Shipping costs are calculated at checkout.
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