空間と文脈のあいだに、その場所だけの物語を描く。
Stories shaped by place, between space and context.
Stories shaped by place, between space and context.
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工遊録 -Conversations-
木村達哉 （陶芸家） / Tatsuya Kimura (ceramic artist)
2 - 穴窯の夢 / Dreaming of Anagama
中村：
穴窯についても、もう少し聞いてもいい？そもそも手掘りの穴窯は、焼き物の歴史の中ではどういう存在なんですか。
木村：
焼き物の歴史の中で、初めて「窯」と呼ばれるものですね。
地面が保温してくれるので、高温での焼成が可能になった。
穴窯が日本に伝わった時代の焼き物が、須恵器と呼ばれる焼き物だった。昔の須恵器も、炭素と水蒸気を使って焼き締めるような焼き方で、今と大きく変わりません。
今はレンガを組んで窯を作る人が多くて、炭素と水蒸気よりも、温度を上げて焼くというのが一般的かな。
薪をたくさん使えば高温は得られるけど、昔の人も薪をなるべく使わずに、しっかり焼き締めることを望んでいたと思います。水やお酒を保存するには、器が水を通さないようにしないといけないので。
中村：
高い温度にすることで「焼く」のではなくて、器として必要な性能を出すために、どう「焼き締める」のかということ。
木村：
そう。今は電気窯があって、温度もパッと見て分かる温度計があるけど、昔はそんなものはない。
焚く日の天候や風向き、焼いている土や、窯の中での置き方によって、毎回違うシチュエーションになります。
炎の色を見て、今どのくらいの温度なのかをある程度予想したり、窯から来る熱を肌で感じて、「あと何時間焼こうか」と考えたり。
便利すぎる現代で、僕はあえてそういう難しい状況の中で土を焼くことに挑戦したいと思っています。
いろんな感覚を、当時のように研ぎ澄ませたい。
中村：
実際、失敗もしてきた？
木村：
めっちゃ失敗していました。
大学三年生の頃から始めて5年以上経ち、ようやくこう、人に出せるかなと思えるところに来たのが、ちょうど最近のことだったので。
中村：
じゃあ今の穴窯のスタイルは今後も続きそうだね。
木村：
ようやくスタートライン。少しずつ、つかめてきたという感じ。
穴窯を一回やってみようという人はいるかもしれないけど、「続けたい」と思う人はなかなかいないと思います。それぐらいリスクが大きい。
その場所がずっと同じ状態であるわけではないし、窯を築いても、長く使い続けられるかは分からない。
地形のわずかな変化だったり、気候だったり、そういうところに、自分の方も合わせていかないといけない。
雨が降って窯焚きを延期したこともあるし、かなりギリギリな状態。でも、今回は無事うまくいった。
中村：
夜通し焚きながら、その場の環境を読み続ける。
木村：
そうですね。最初から最後まで同じ条件ではないので。
中村：
須恵器の話で言うと、今、能登の宿泊施設だったり、工房の設計をやっているんだけど、とある山の窯跡から須恵器が出てきたらしい。
須恵器は歴史上発展が途絶えたはずなのに、それが能登の珠洲焼にも特徴が引き継がれているらしく、文脈として結構面白いなと。
木村：
須恵器の時代は、日本全国で黒い焼き物が作られていたんですけど、珠洲焼の時代になると多くの産地は黒くならない焼き方へ移って、それぞれの個性が出てきます。その中で、珠洲焼だけが須恵器の黒い焼き方を引き継いでいる。それが特徴の一つですね。
中村：
時代を超えて、その方法だけが残っているのが興味深いね。
木村：
珠洲だけ、ちょっと変わっているんですよね。自分は、その黒い焼き方が珠洲の土に合っていたのかなと思っています。
中村：
焼き方が伝統的だから残ったというわけじゃなく、土との相性があったかもしれない。
木村：
確かにそうかもね。土に合っていたからこそ、残った可能性はあると思う。
中村：
今回は内装の左官壁の相談から始まり、最終的には家具として土が形を成したけれども、キムタツが器を作る中で、建築とか家具みたいな、人のスケール以上のものを扱うことについてはどう思う？
木村：
焼き物って、窯に入るものより大きいものは作れないから、自然とスケールが小さくなりがちというか。
土壁とかは昔からあるけど、あれは焼いていないし。焼くというのはすごくハードルが高い。
だからこそ、何か大きいスケールでやってみたいというのはあります。
中村：
今日、穴窯に潜りこんでみて、「これ建築やな」という感じがしたけど。実際人が入れる大きさであるという以上に、包まれている、という感覚が建築空間だった。
木村：
そう思ってもらえて嬉しいです。
もし建築というか、空間を僕が作るとなると、自分で掘って焼くというか。窯自体が焼き物の部屋、みたいな考え方になってしまうね。
中村：
窯自体が焼き物であり、部屋。それしっくりくる。
木村：
自分は将来、そこを茶室にしたりとか、焼くときは焼き物を入れて焚くんだけど、焼いていないときは、そこに人を招いてみたい。
やっぱり地面の中って落ち着くし。何だろう、土ってどこにでもあるじゃん。子供のときに土遊びをしたり、トンネルを作ったりとか、その延長線上にあるかなという。
中村：
それで言うと、石上純也さんが設計をした山口県にある洞窟のレストラン。あれは、建築と自然の間ぐらいのスケール感でいいなと思った。
初めに山みたいに土を盛って、その上に配筋してコンクリートを流して、固まった後は下に盛っていた土をかき出す。そうすると、盛った土を反転した形のコンクリート空間ができて、その下の隙間に人が入って生活ができるようになる。
さっきの焼き物の部屋は、それの逆の事をして空間をつくっているよね。土をまず掘って掻き出すことから始まり、そこの中でどんどん火をくべて焼き締める。そしたら、表面全部が焼かれた、すごく大きい穴窯空間みたいなものができる。そもそも構造は大地のなかにあったことになる。
とんでもない量の火をくべないといけないけど、新たな建築の可能性かもしれないし、自分自身そこで過ごしてみたいね。
木村：
かなり火を焚かないといけないね。（笑）
中村：
かなり危ないけど、ちょっと面白すぎるかも。
木村：
焼き物の中に入るという経験は、たぶん誰もしたことがないと思うから。タイル張りとかはあっても。
中村：
今の穴窯は、入るのにも一苦労やから、もう少し大きい空間で、人が二人対面で入れるとか。煙突も必然的に作る必要があるし、さらに暖炉みたいに火をくべてもいいね。
木村：
今、次の拠点で穴を掘ろうかなと思っているんで。
中村：
そのスケールのチャレンジは、ちょっとできるかもね。
木村：
うん。やってみますよ。
-English-
Nakamura:
Could I ask you a little more about the anagama? Where does the hand-dug anagama sit within the history of pottery?
Kimura:
It was the first structure in the history of pottery that could truly be called a kiln.
Because the surrounding earth retains heat, it made firing at much higher temperatures possible.
When the anagama was introduced to Japan, it was used to produce what we now call Sue ware. Sue ware was fired using carbon and water vapor to make the soil dense and watertight, so the basic principle is not that different from the way I fire today.
Most anagama kilns today are built from bricks, and the more common approach is to raise the temperature as high as possible rather than relying mainly on carbon and water vapor.
Of course, you can reach high temperatures by burning a huge amount of firewood. But I imagine people in the past also wanted to use as little wood as possible while still firing the vessels densely enough. If they were going to hold water or sake, they had to be watertight.
Nakamura:
So it was not simply about reaching a high temperature and “firing” the soil. It was about how to fire it densely enough to give the vessel the performance it needed.
Kimura:
Exactly.
Today, we have electric kilns and thermometers that show us the temperature instantly, but none of that existed in the past.
Every firing takes place under different conditions, depending on the weather, the direction of the wind, the soil being fired, and how the pieces are arranged inside the kiln.
You look at the color of the flames to estimate the temperature. You feel the heat coming from the kiln against your skin and think, “How many more hours should I keep this going?”
We live in an age when almost everything has become incredibly convenient. That is exactly why I want to take on the challenge of firing soil under such difficult and unpredictable conditions.
I want to sharpen my senses in the way people once had to.
Nakamura:
Have you had many failures along the way?
Kimura:
A lot.
I started in my third year at university, so I have been working on it for over five years. It was only recently that I finally reached a point where I felt the results were good enough to show other people.
Nakamura:
It sounds as though you will continue with this particular style of anagama firing.
Kimura:
I feel as though I have only just reached the starting line. I am beginning to understand it little by little.
There may be people who want to try firing an anagama once, but not many who think, “I want to keep doing this.” There are simply too many risks.
The site itself will not remain in the same condition forever. Even if you build a kiln, you do not know how long you will be able to keep using it.
The terrain changes slightly, the climate changes, and I have to adapt to those conditions myself.
There have been times when rain forced me to postpone a firing, and there is always very little margin for error. But this time, it worked.
Nakamura:
You keep it going through the night, constantly reading the conditions around you.
Kimura:
Yes. The conditions are never the same from beginning to end.
Nakamura:
Speaking of Sue ware, I am currently designing a lodging facility and workshop spaces in Noto, and apparently Sue ware was excavated from a kiln site on one of the nearby mountains.
Sue ware eventually fell out of production, but some of its characteristics seem to have survived in Suzu ware in Noto. I find that continuity really interesting.
Kimura:
During the age of Sue ware, black-fired pottery was being made throughout Japan. By the time Suzu ware emerged, however, most pottery regions had moved away from firing methods that turned the pottery black, and each region began developing its own distinct character.
Suzu ware was unusual because it continued the black-firing tradition inherited from Sue ware. That is one of its defining characteristics.
Nakamura:
It is fascinating that this particular method survived across different historical periods.
Kimura:
Suzu is a little unusual in that sense.
I think the black-firing method may simply have suited the soil found there.
Nakamura:
So perhaps it survived not merely because it was a traditional method, but because it was particularly compatible with the local soil.
Kimura:
Yes, that may be true. It may have survived precisely because it suited the soil.
Nakamura:
This project began as a discussion about an interior plaster wall, and the soil eventually took shape as a piece of furniture. As someone who usually makes vessels, how do you feel about working at the scale of architecture or furniture—at or beyond the scale of the human body?
Kimura:
Pottery naturally tends to remain small because you cannot make anything larger than the kiln it has to fit inside.
Earthen walls have existed for a long time, of course, but they are not fired. Firing something at an architectural scale would be an enormous challenge.
That is exactly why I would like to try working at a larger scale.
Nakamura:
When I crawled inside the anagama today, I thought, “This is architecture.”
It was not simply that the space was large enough for a person to enter. The sensation of being enclosed made it feel like a genuine architectural space.
Kimura:
I am glad you felt that.
If I were to create architecture—or some kind of space—I would probably end up digging it myself and then firing it. The kiln itself would become a room made of fired soil.
Nakamura:
The kiln itself becomes both the pottery and the room. That makes complete sense to me.
Kimura:
One day, I would like to use a place like that as a tea room.
When the kiln was being fired, pottery would be placed inside and the fire would be lit. When it was not being used for firing, I would invite people into it.
There is something calming about being underground. And soil is everywhere, right?
It feels like an extension of playing with soil as a child—digging tunnels and things like that.
Nakamura:
That reminds me of the cave-like restaurant in Yamaguchi designed by Junya Ishigami. I have always liked the way its scale sits somewhere between architecture and nature.
The process began by piling up soil like a mountain, laying reinforcement over it, and pouring concrete on top. Once the concrete had hardened, the soil underneath was removed. What remained was a concrete space formed as a negative impression of the mound, which people could then inhabit.
The room you are imagining would be made through the opposite process.
You would begin by excavating the soil. Then you would keep feeding a fire inside the hollowed-out space until the entire inner surface had been fired dense. What would remain would be an enormous anagama-like interior, with every surface transformed into fired soil.
In a sense, its structure would already have existed within the earth.
It would require an unimaginable amount of fire, but it might also suggest an entirely new possibility for architecture. I would want to spend time inside it myself.
Kimura:
We would have to burn a lot of firewood. (laughs)
Nakamura:
It would be extremely dangerous, but it may be too interesting not to try.
Kimura:
I do not think anyone has ever experienced being inside a piece of pottery. There are tiled interiors, of course, but that is something different.
Nakamura:
The current anagama is difficult enough just to crawl into. But if the space were slightly larger, two people might be able to sit facing each other.
You would naturally need a chimney, and perhaps you could continue feeding a fire into it like a fireplace.
Kimura:
I am thinking about digging a new kiln at my next base.
Nakamura:
Then perhaps you could begin experimenting at that larger scale.
Kimura:
Yeah. I am going to try.