5.5cmhighx7.5cm width
 
Sake tastes different from these. Not subjectively better, not romantically enhanced, but genuinely, perceptibly different – the cool ceramic subtly aerating the liquid, the weight and balance affecting how you bring it to your lips, the visual interplay between sake and glaze creating a multisensory experience unavailable from glass or metal. This guinomi (sake cup) by Tadashi Nishibata represents the pinnacle of contemporary Tamba ware, a tradition stretching back over 800 years to one of Japan's legendary "Six Ancient Kilns." Arriving in its original signed box with protective cloth and artist's leaflet, this is not merely a drinking vessel but a considered statement about how we choose to engage with everyday rituals.
Tadashi Nishibata stands as arguably the foremost living representative of modern Tamba-yaki, holding a reputation that places him alongside (if not quite equal to) Living National Treasure status. His solo exhibitions at prestigious venues including Mitsukoshi department store's main branch in Tokyo have consistently sold out, with collectors recognizing in his work both technical mastery and genuine artistic vision. What distinguishes Nishibata within Tamba traditions is his ability to balance respect for historical forms with personal interpretation – his pieces feel authentically Tamba while bearing his unmistakable hand. In the hierarchical world of Japanese ceramic arts, where lineage and regional affiliation matter profoundly, Nishibata has earned widespread respect across collecting communities.
Tamba-yaki originates from Hyōgo Prefecture in the Kansai region, with kiln sites dating to the Heian period (794-1185 CE), making it one of Japan's oldest continuous ceramic traditions. The Six Ancient Kilns – Bizen, Echizen, Seto, Shigaraki, Tokoname, and Tamba – represent the foundation of Japanese studio pottery, the places where ceramic culture took root and flourished before the tea ceremony's influence and Korean potters' arrival transformed the landscape. Tamba specifically became renowned for its sturdy, functional wares: storage jars, mortars, bottles, and tableware made from iron-rich local clay that fires to warm brown tones. The distinctive Tamba aesthetic emerged from necessity – ash from the wood-fired anagama kilns would settle on vessels during multi-day firings, creating organic glaze patterns never exactly repeatable. What began as happenstance became defining characteristic.
This particular guinomi showcases hai-yū (ash glaze) in its full expressive range. Examination of the piece reveals complex surface phenomena: areas where thick ash deposits have melted into glassy pools of olive and celadon green, contrasted against sections of exposed clay body showing rich terra cotta and burnt sienna tones. The glaze appears to cascade down from the rim, arrested mid-flow by the kiln's cooling – a frozen moment of geological transformation. This is high-fire stoneware, requiring kiln temperatures exceeding 1200°C (2192°F), hot enough to begin vitrifying the clay body itself while melting the ash into natural glaze. The results carry visual and tactile complexity unavailable through electric kilns or controlled glazing: this is controlled chance, the potter setting conditions then collaborating with fire.
The form itself demonstrates refined proportions. A guinomi typically holds 60-90ml – substantially more than a traditional ochoko but still encouraging measured sipping rather than gulping. The size Nishibata has chosen here (specifics not provided, but guinomi typically run 5-7cm height, 5-8cm diameter) sits comfortably in the palm, with enough weight to feel substantial but not heavy. The interior shows the same ash effects as the exterior, meaning the sake makes direct contact with this complex surface – affecting temperature retention, subtly influencing taste, and creating a visual dialogue between transparent liquid and opaque ceramic. Serious sake drinkers in Japan maintain collections of cups, selecting different pieces for different sakes, occasions, and moods. The cup matters.
In the hierarchy of Japanese drinking vessels, guinomi occupy interesting territory. Larger than ochoko (the tiny cups used in formal settings) but smaller than yunomi (tea cups sometimes repurposed for sake), guinomi suggest casual sophistication – you're taking sake seriously enough to care about the vessel, but not so formally as to be precious about it. They've become particularly popular among collectors because the small scale makes them displayable, collectible, affordable (relatively), and usable. A single guinomi from a respected artist costs far less than a large vase or sculptural work, yet receives the same artistic attention. You're acquiring the maker's full skill set in miniature.