Emmanuel Alexia (born 1960), selected exhibitions:
2009: Dojima Gallery Osaka, Japan.
2016: Galerie Metzger, Johannesberg, Germany
2017: Temple Shörei-in, Enkakuji, Kamakura, Japan
2018: Le sentiment des choses Gallery, Paris, France
2019: “In the heart of the forest”, Nomura Art Museum, Kyoto, Japan
2019: Ten Tea bowls, Gansui Gallery, Kyoto, Japan
2021: Cha-no-yu : A Ceramic Sacred Space, Cavin-Morris Gallery, New-York, USA
2023: Saint-Sulpice Céramic, Paris, France
For over fifteen years, while exploring mines and quarries, walking along embankments and the edges of ponds, seeking out secluded springs or hiking up mountains, Emmanuel has gathered clays and minerals.
With these materials, transformed by wind, rain and frost, he mixes clays and glazes. The moment of modeling the clay: under the slow, continuous pressure of the fingers, in the hollow of the hand, clay becomes bowl.
Bisque-fired in the bright orange flame of the wood-firing kiln, partly or totally smoke-fired, the bowls are glaze-fired one by one over several hours.
Each bowl, each work is a fruit ripened by fire.
(from cheminsdargile.fr)
Emmanuel Alexia did his first steps on his clay path in 1995. One defining event on this path was the moment when he opened a small book dedicated to the most famous tea bowls of Japan. From the photographic representation of the black rakus attributed to Chôjiro emerged a peaceful and powerful natural force which was to modify the course of his existence.
For almost 30 years he has been creating tea bowls, each unique, each with its own story and feeling. Emmanuel does not work with recipes, every micro-batch of bowls is unique. Every iteration of new bowls might contain some of the old but is on the other hand a completely new beginning, a similar approach used in fermenting (starters, sourdough, combucha etc.)
Poem “the story of a bowl” (from cheminsdargile.fr) by Emmanuel Alexia
After the rain
On the path,
In the embankment,
Near a spring or a pond,
The clay is harvested.
The twigs and pebbles are removed
Once it is pliable,
It is rolled into a ball,
Gradually, The sphere is opened.
In the palms of hands,
Slowly,
Under the fingers’ gentle guidance,
The bowl takes shape.
Dry wood is collected,
Twigs and branches,
A fire is lit.
The bowl is set by the fire
To dry, slowly.
Unhurriedly,
The bowl is surrounded by small embers,
Then larger,
Progressively covered.
The flames are stoked.
Once the bowl is glowing
Hot orange,
The fire is stoked once more.
The flames are left to dream, to sleep.
While the bowl is still red,
With a slender branch
It is gently rolled from the fire.
It is placed on green or dry grass,
Dead leaves,
Pine needles.
Once the bowl emerges from the ashes,
We meet it for the first time. //
In another story, in another fire
It might be clothed in a transparent coating,
Or a glaze…
