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Each piece is carefully packed for international delivery.
The Moon Jar is a distinguished masterpiece crafted during the mid-Joseon Dynasty, also known as the Lantern Jar or Full Moon Jar (Dalhanari). The Joseon era was deeply influenced by Confucian thought, which permeated the arts and led to a celebration of the pure beauty of white porcelain, characterized by its restrained decoration. The hallmark of white porcelain from this period is its pristine whiteness, with subtle variations that are rarely identical, classified into shades such as milky white, snow white, ash white, and bluish white.
The Moon Jar derives its name from its round form, reminiscent of a full moon, a title bestowed by the Korean abstract painter Kim Whanki. Its soft, flowing curves and robust body evoke a sense of both grandeur and tranquility. Such forms were predominantly produced in the 17th century.
The white of the Moon Jar is neither the pure white typical of early Korean ceramics nor the grayish white characteristic of mid-Joseon porcelain, nor the bluish white often produced at the Bunwon kiln. While it is generally referred to as milky white, not all Moon Jars conform to this description; many exhibit a variety of white tones within a single vessel. Additionally, one may observe yellowish spots resulting from oxidation or incomplete combustion, as well as discoloration from liquid permeation in jars that were used for storage.
The Moon Jar consistently presents a spectrum of white tones that subtly evolve over time. This organic transformation of white and its tonal diversity may be what captivates us. Furthermore, it is exceedingly rare to find a large jar devoid of any decoration within the realm of global ceramics. The expansive white sphere of the Moon Jar represents a blank canvas, stimulating our innate desire for simplicity. Once any form of painting or ornamentation is applied to its surface, it ceases to be regarded as a Moon Jar. This emptiness epitomizes perfect restraint and anonymity, devoid of desire or self-centeredness, exuding a compelling sense of randomness. The diverse thoughts and inspirations arising from the solemn yet delicate surface of the Moon Jar embody the aesthetic sensibilities and beauty appreciated by people of that time.
This particular piece is in excellent condition, maintaining an almost flawless form. The stains on the body create a singular landscape, imparting a unique charm. Additionally, with a height of 38 cm, it is a modest size that fits well within a tea room. Large Moon Jars are challenging to shape as a single piece on the potter's wheel, often requiring the upper and lower hemispheres to be crafted separately and then joined. This piece, while smaller, is constructed from two joined halves, with visible seams on the interior.
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.
