Blue-and-White Peony Jars of the Joseon Dynasty
Aristocratic Hues and Graceful Forms
Reflecting on Affluence and Inner Emptiness in Ourselves

[The Old Future] Joseon's Dreams Embodied in Everyday Vessels View original image

"Among the old things, what do you like the most?" As a curator, I sometimes get asked this question. My answer is usually the same: "I like Joseon white porcelain." When asked for more specifics, I add, "Among Joseon white porcelains, I like blue-and-white peony-patterned jars produced at the Bunwon kilns in Gwangju, Gyeonggi Province in the 19th century—the rounded jars with that bluish-white glow."


These jars, with a slightly compressed body, a relatively tall mouth, and a foot, are decorated with peony motifs—symbols of wealth and honor—painted in blue cobalt oxide, and then fired. This form and pattern are quite common. There are still a substantial number preserved today, so they are not particularly expensive in antique shops. The subtle ridge below the rim suggests that the jars originally had lids, though it's rare to find them still intact. Lids are, after all, always prone to go missing. Back in those days, I imagine people used these jars to store things like honey or jang (fermented sauces).


The peak period for Joseon blue-and-white porcelain is generally considered to be the early to mid-19th century. Politically, the dynasty was in decline, yet culturally, the urban literati class known as the "Gyeonghwa Sajok," who had long resided in Seoul, saw their refined tastes flourish more than ever. This was also the era when Chusa Kim Jeong-hui (1786–1856), after his sojourn in Beijing, spread his own artistic vision far and wide across Joseon.


Joseon Dynasty white porcelain blue-and-white peony pattern jar. Height 15.7 cm, mouth diameter 10.3 cm, base diameter 9.9 cm. National Museum of Korea

Joseon Dynasty white porcelain blue-and-white peony pattern jar. Height 15.7 cm, mouth diameter 10.3 cm, base diameter 9.9 cm. National Museum of Korea

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Even in the world of ceramics, the preferences of the Gyeonghwa Sajok were fully reflected. The color—neither lustrous milky-white nor austere snow-white, but a bluish-white that seems to emerge from river ice—is truly "aristocratic" in character. I've heard that even among contemporary ceramicists, very few can faithfully reproduce the bluish-white glaze of those historic Bunwon kilns. Even the simple blue line drawn around the low, deeply recessed foot—subtle on the outside but with depth within—seems to proclaim, "We are different."


Yet, despite this, in both the soft, rounded form and the unpretentious brushwork with which the peonies are painted, there is an earthy warmth. As the renowned art historian Ko Yu-seop (1905–1944) put it, these jars are "rich in robust flavor." They are utterly distinct from the dazzling fen-cai porcelains of Qing China or the brilliant blue-and-white wares of Japanese Imari. Nor are they quite like the strongly Yuan and Ming-influenced 15th-century wares, or the painterly 16th-century pieces that resemble scrolls transferred onto porcelain. From the top-quality jars bearing inscriptions like "Geunjeongokan" or "Unhyeon," to the lower-grade wares that continued to be made even after the Bunwon kiln shut down in the late 19th century, these peony jars, more than any other ceramic, feel truly and thoroughly Joseon—from their makers to their users.


And above all, their decoration is the peony. Into every full petal is painted the dream of wealth and glory—an aspiration that people have cherished throughout time. During the Japanese colonial period, countless "Wa-sagi" jars were produced featuring large peony motifs, further illustrating how much people in Korea desired and made use of peony jars.


In some ways, it was just an everyday kitchen jar. Yet, even in such a humble piece, people of Joseon managed to imbue their dreams of prosperity and splendor. Today, as their descendants, we are surrounded by containers of every sort.


Not only ceramic or glass, but now light and sturdy plastic containers abound. We store kimchi, honey, sugar—anything and everything—in such vessels and place them in our refrigerators. Is it only wishful thinking to imagine that our dreams might also be etched into these ordinary vessels, that they might be widely used and catch our eyes in the same way?



Kang Min-kyung, Curator, National Museum of Korea


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