The first time light passes through this vase, you'll understand why the Metropolitan Museum acquired Fujita's work—and why collectors waited years for his studio's limited output. This isn't decorative glass. This is suspended mathematics: gold and silver foil floating in crystalline layers, positioned with the precision of a watchmaker and the instinct of a painter who happens to work at 1,200 degrees Celsius. Kyohei Fujita (1921-2009) received every honour Japan bestows: the Order of Culture, Cultural Merit designation, membership in the Japan Art Academy, and the Order of the Sacred Treasure. But titles don't capture what made his technique revolutionary. Traditional Japanese glass relies on surface decoration—enamels, engravings, applied colour. Fujita embedded metal foil within the glass body itself, blowing and shaping the vessel while the foil remained suspended, sometimes warping into organic forms, sometimes holding geometric rigidity. The risk is catastrophic: one temperature miscalculation and the foil oxidizes to ash, or the glass cracks along stress lines as metal and silica cool at conflicting rates. This vase stands approximately 24 centimetres tall with a swelling body that tapers to a narrow neck—a form that maximizes the foil's visual depth. Fujita hand-signed the original paulownia box (tomobako), and the inner lid bears his studio's documentation slip, confirming this was not an assistant's work but emerged from his own bench. The foil distribution suggests a mid-period piece, likely 1970s-1980s, when Fujita balanced restraint with drama: enough metallic presence to catch every light shift, but not so dense that the glass loses its transparency. The Metropolitan Museum of Art acquired multiple Fujita pieces for their permanent Asian art collection. Tokyo's National Museum of Modern Art holds an entire gallery dedicated to his evolution. NHK featured him in multiple documentary profiles, capturing the physical intensity of his process—the constant movement between glory hole and workbench, the split-second decisions that determine whether foil floats or sinks. He worked without sketches, responding to how the glass moved, where the foil wanted to settle. Each piece is an improvisation locked into permanence. In contemporary interiors, this vase needs space to perform. Position it where natural light can pass through—a window ledge, a backlit display niche—and the foil creates an interior constellation. The gold reads warm at sunset, cool under northern light. The silver provides counterpoint, tracing vertical passages through the glass body. It sits comfortably beside Danish modern furniture, against concrete walls, within collections that value post-war Japanese craftsmanship alongside European studio glass. Condition is museum-grade: no chips along the rim, no scratches to the glass body, no foil degradation. The tomobako shows gentle age but remains structurally sound. This vase has been preserved with obvious care, likely part of a serious collection being thoughtfully dispersed. Fujita's works now command serious attention at international auctions, particularly pieces with full documentation. His passing in 2009 closed the edition permanently—no new works, no rediscoveries. What exists in private hands represents the complete catalogue. If you've been tracking post-war Japanese studio glass, you already know Fujita's name. If you're discovering him now, this vase offers an entry point that carries both artistic merit and investment-grade documentation. Shipping & Handling We ship worldwide via DHL or EMS with full insurance and tracking. Glass works receive custom-cut foam cradles and triple-wall carton protection to ensure safe arrival; combined shipping available for multiple wins. Local customs duties are the buyer's responsibility. Seller Guarantee We specialise in documented works by major Japanese glass artists and guarantee this piece's authenticity. Questions welcome—we reply within 24 hours.