MOON JAR, White porcelain, Joseon Dynasty（1392–1897CE）
The Moon Jar, a distinguished masterpiece crafted during the mid-Joseon Dynasty, is also referred to as a lantern jar or full moon jar (Dalhanari). The Joseon period was profoundly influenced by Confucian ideals, which manifested in the arts through a restrained aesthetic that accentuated the purity of white porcelain. The hallmark of this era's white porcelain lies in its pristine whiteness, with subtle variations that are rarely identical, categorized into shades such as milky white, snow white, grayish white, and bluish white. The term "Moon Jar" was coined by the Korean abstract painter Kim Whanki, inspired by the jar's rounded form that resembles a full moon.
With its soft, flowing curves and robust body that cradles the essence of the full moon, the Moon Jar embodies a harmonious balance of grandeur and tranquility. Such forms were predominantly produced in the 17th century. The white of the Moon Jar is neither the pure white characteristic of early Joseon porcelain nor the grayish white typical of mid-Joseon ceramics, nor is it the bluish white commonly produced at the Bunwon kiln. While it is generally described 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 absorption in jars that were used as containers. The Moon Jar consistently displays a spectrum of white tones, subtly evolving over time.
This organic transformation of white, along with its tonal diversity, may be what captivates us. Furthermore, it is exceedingly rare to find large jars in the realm of global ceramics that are entirely devoid of decoration. The substantial white sphere of the Moon Jar serves as a blank canvas, stimulating our innate desire for simplicity. Once any form of painting or decoration is applied to its surface, the vessel ceases to be regarded as a Moon Jar. This blankness epitomizes a perfect expression of restraint and anonymity, devoid of desire or self-centeredness. The randomness it exudes possesses a compelling allure. The diverse thoughts and inspirations that arise from the Moon Jar's solemn yet delicate surface embody the aesthetic sensibilities and beauty appreciated by people of that time.
This piece forms a spherical shape worthy of the title "Moon Jar." There is one repair for water retention on the inside, and the foot exhibits a few knife marks and stains; however, I believe it is a fine example of this type of jar. Standing at 48 cm tall, it possesses a commanding presence. Although it is a large Moon Jar, it appears to have been crafted without connecting the top and bottom. Its alluring white hue is soft and captivating.
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The aesthetics of the period did not favor surface-level ornamentation or technical prowess but emphasized forms and expressions that quietly supported the inner life of the individual. Objects and furnishings were not merely tools of utility—they might be seen as a kind of dōjō, spaces for self-discipline and reflection. A humble jar placed in a scholar’s study, a plain desk, or an unadorned brush rest were not only objects to be observed but mirrors reflecting one’s posture and thoughts.
It is no coincidence that the crafts of the Joseon period possess a “quiet presence.” These works were created not to impress, but to accompany the human spirit—to breathe with it and to help bring it into balance.
Take white porcelain, for example. Subtle glaze flows, the tremble of clay, slight asymmetries in shape—these so-called “unintentional phenomena” were accepted and even cherished. They reflect a broad-minded sensibility that contrasts sharply with modern ideals of perfection and uniformity. This sensibility questions the boundaries between nature and artifice, beauty and imperfection, object and mind. One could even say it was not just a way of making but an expression of the spirit of the age.
If we were to describe Joseon-era beauty, it is less a “beauty of display” and more a “beauty of resonance.” Not the charm of an object itself, but the way it creates a moment for the viewer to reflect on how to live and how to be. For this reason, the object must not speak too loudly—it must carry emptiness, pauses, and silence within. This kind of thinking seems to run through the very heart of Joseon craftsmanship.
These values would eventually cross the sea and take root deeply in Japan. In the world of chanoyu (the Japanese Way of Tea), Joseon white porcelain and buncheong ware had already begun to be used by the late Momoyama period. Their modest and quiet character offered a contrast to the stately grandeur of Chinese imports. The aesthetic sensibility of “listening to what is unsaid” in tea culture resonated with the silence and imperfection held by Joseon vessels, nurturing a gaze that would eventually find form in the spirit of wabi-sabi.
In modern times, thinkers of the Mingei movement such as Yanagi Sōetsu and Kawai Kanjirō discovered in Joseon crafts “a power that purifies” and “a form of life as it ought to be.” In an age when traditional crafts were being forgotten, these objects were not viewed merely as antiques but as expressions of a way of being—welcomed with profound respect and empathy.
Even now, when I encounter a crafted object from the Joseon period, I find myself moved by its stillness. Within it dwells the spirit of a time that asked how we ought to live and what it means to be—and that quiet voice continues to speak to us, undiminished by time.
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