Explore the Timeless Japanese Matcha Tea Ceremonies: Hours of Tradition with Exquisite Utensils

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A new exhibition at the National Museum of Asian Art showcases the longtime cultural meaning in the practice of chanoyu

Nathan Pugh – Freelance Writer

The Japanese term for tea ceremony, chanoyu, translates to “hot water for tea.” However, it embodies a much broader ceremonial practice surrounding the art of preparing and enjoying matcha, a finely ground green tea.

In modern ceremonies, guests bow as they enter a tranquil space, often set amongst gardens. The host carefully selects unique tea utensils, taking into consideration the occasion and season. In formal settings, a kaiseki meal may accompany the tea. The ceremony’s intricate steps begin with the hot water being combined with powdered matcha, whisked with a bamboo whisk to create a frothy beverage that is served in individual bowls. Alternatively, koicha (thick tea) is prepared for communal sipping from a single bowl. Each ceremony, painstakingly choreographed, can extend for hours and engages all the senses of attendees.

The art of the Japanese tea ceremony has evolved over centuries. Before the 16th century, these events often showcased wealth and power, especially among Japanese rulers and the samurai class. However, it was during the 16th century that tea master Sen Rikyu refined the tea ceremony’s aesthetic principles, promoting themes of simplicity and humility, rooted in the philosophy of wabi and incorporating various Asian artifacts.

Gregory Kinsey encountered chanoyu at a young age, growing up in Florida. Despite his family’s French Huguenot background, his connection to Japan came through his uncle, who spent two years there during the Korean War and married Yoshiko Asano from a notable Japanese business family with historical ties to the samurai. While Kinsey’s Japanese American cousins showed little interest in their heritage, Kinsey developed a strong bond with Yoshiko, nurturing his passion for Japanese culture during summers spent together. His relatives were supportive, recognizing that cultural appreciation is acquired rather than inherent.

“They were very open-minded,” Kinsey reflects, emphasizing that culture is a learned experience.

This blend of tradition and modernization is evident in the current exhibition titled “Reasons to Gather: Japanese Tea Practice Unwrapped,” running at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Asian Art until April 26, 2026. Following in his family’s footsteps, Kinsey immersed himself in the Urasenke tea school, amassing a vast collection of utensils, some as old as the 16th century. In 2019, he donated nearly a third of his collection to the museum, which included 167 pieces added to the Freer Study Collection for public demonstrations of chanoyu. Additionally, fifteen tea practice items have found a permanent home in the Freer’s collection and are showcased in “Reasons to Gather.”

Curator Sol Jung aimed to highlight the cross-cultural significance of the exhibition’s artifacts. Many of these objects, particularly tea bowls, predate the 16th century, originating from China, Korea, and other regions in Asia. Jung notes that by the time these items reached Japan, they were already considered valuable antiques. Their creators may not have regarded themselves as artists but rather as “makers.” Many of these ceramics were not initially crafted for tea ceremonies; instead, Japanese collectors “repurposed and appropriated” them for this purpose.

“What we now associate with this distinctly Japanese tradition is indeed cross-cultural and cosmopolitan, deeply influenced by trade and exchange,” Jung explains. “Japan has a rich history of valuing objects from other cultures. While this can be seen as appropriation, it highlights a respectful engagement with those items, merging them within Japan’s own artistic traditions.”

Kinsey concurs, recognizing these objects as testaments to the interconnectedness of Asia, especially in a time when written records may be scarce. “Historically, there has been significant cultural exchange, more than we often acknowledge, even if records of such interactions have been lost,” he posits.

One notable piece in the exhibition is a tea caddy, named Ueda Bunrin, accompanied by a silk storage bag and lacquer tray. This caddy not only represents diverse histories, named after its Japanese owner from the Meiji period (1868-1912), but it originates from the Chinese Song dynasty of the 13th century and was valued by the Shintoku-in temple in Mount Koya before it succumbed to a fire in 1776. Jung underscores that the stories of these objects encourage inquiries regarding their historical contexts.

“That temple may not be famed for tea culture,” she observes. “Yet it was part of a broader network of tea practitioners. The caddy’s voyage to that Buddhist temple invites us to explore who utilized these items.”

Tea caddies also provide insight into the preferences of Japanese collectors. For example, the selection of a vibrant red lacquer tray, juxtaposed against the simplicity of the caddy, reflects the aesthetic sensibility of its owner. Similarly, a buncheong ware tea bowl, estimated to be from the 15th or 16th century, derives its name from the famed Naruto Strait whirlpools, while also illustrating the Japanese artistic technique of kintsugi, where broken ceramics are repaired with lacquer and metallic powders, becoming part of the piece’s character.

In “Reasons to Gather,” many objects are displayed alongside their original storage boxes, which have preserved them for generations. Akiko Niwa, the museum conservator specializing in Japanese paintings, describes these boxes as “microclimate boxes” that illustrate early collectors’ efforts to maintain the integrity of their items.

“It’s crucial to prevent humidity,” Niwa emphasizes, noting that while conservation practices were not formalized in ancient Japan, there was an innate awareness of proper storage.

As a dedicated tea practitioner for over a decade, Niwa found a deeper understanding of chanoyu through her work with hanging scrolls and artworks interlinked with tea culture, believing that involvement in tea ceremonies has enhanced her skills in mounding.

In the context of tea gatherings, the hanging scroll is often considered the most significant artifact. A featured scroll, believed to be from the early 17th century, contains an Suigan Somin letter to Sen Sotan, serving as the only documentary evidence of Sotan’s relationship with Chinese poetry. Niwa points out that the calligraphy employs luxurious materials that evoke the splendor of monk robes.

The museum’s conservation division employs specialized methods to care for such artifacts, especially hanging scrolls prone to creasing, which can lead to tears over time. Previous repairs often used infilling paper that eventually discolors, marking areas of “loss.” Conservators strive to retain the integrity of a piece while addressing such damages.

“We aim for a complete remounting process,” Niwa explains, detailing how conservators replace pigments or inks, apply new infilling paper, and tone areas to align closely with the original art, taking care not to overshadow the existing damage.

Kinsey’s motivation for donating his collection stems from his respect for the art and the desire to preserve historical pieces during his retirement, shaped by personal circumstance. While he consulted various tea schools, he was advised to donate for posterity’s sake.

“One must respect these art objects,” Kinsey asserts. “We belong to a lineage of custodians, not owners.”

Jung believes that attending tea ceremonies fosters an understanding of chanoyu as a vibrant tradition. Often portrayed as solemn rituals, she argues that tea gatherings are fundamentally about community, creating intimate shared experiences. “It’s about uniting people,” she states, reflecting on the warmth of communal gatherings.

However, Jung notes that art historians may interpret chanoyu through differing lenses than active tea practitioners. Curator Sadako Ohki compares the inclusion of everyday ceramics in chanoyu by Sen Rikyu to Marcel Duchamp’s submission of a urinal as art, emphasizing both as radical challenges to traditional aesthetic values. Jung also finds parallels in the adaptability of chanoyu with contemporary art today, which often involves the recontextualization of diverse cultural elements.

While some modern practitioners may hold traditional views, Jung highlights the collaborative nature of chanoyu’s early years in the 16th century, when collectors would share their pieces to gain insight from their peers.

Collaboration remains vital to Kinsey’s approach to chanoyu. Reflecting on his evolving perspective, he now encourages broader participation, hoping that engagement with tea ceremonies sparks curiosity beyond tea culture. For him, chanoyu serves as a bridge across time, connecting one with a lineage extending backward and forward.

“In essence, you engage in conversations with figures from centuries ago,” Kinsey reflects. “This practice can provide meaningful insights for future generations.”

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