[Ceramic artist: Juba Asuka] White light that illuminates our lives

It's an hour's drive north from the center of Kobe.

Rice fields spread out gently on both sides of the road, and the roofs of old temples cling to the shadows of distant mountains.

In the villages where thatched roofs remain, the scenery becomes even quieter, and you can almost hear the sound of time taking a deep breath.

This is the land where the ceramic artist Juba Asuka lives, facing the earth.

Although her pottery is based on white, no two pieces are the same white.

A white with a softness to it, a white into which faint shadows seem to melt, a white that seems to transfer its temperature when you touch it.

Each of these items has the power to find a place in our lives and gently soothe the hearts of those who use them.

It's as if the vessel itself is lighting a small light deep within your heart.

The workshop is said to be a renovated version of the house where the family previously lived.

"The whole family used to eat around there."

As Asuka spoke, her voice was a mixture of nostalgia and calmness.

Standing at the window, you can see the gently undulating fields and shadows of trees, each taking on the colours of the season.

Her words that even a single leaf can move you are something only someone who lives and creates in harmony with the breath of nature can say.

It seemed as if the atmosphere of the land was gently superimposed on the gentle expression of the vessels.

Don't over-produce it.

Don't strive for perfection.

We do not waste the clay and treat each vessel with care.

The "attitude towards production" that Toba talks about is modest and sincere.

It was a strangely soothing experience, more like listening to the sound of the wind in the forest than an interview.

On our way home from the interview, Asuka invited us to stop by a nearby temple for tea.

In the autumn twilight, as the light on the mountainside slowly cooled, Asuka's smiling profile, flickering with steam, was the very image of the warmth that permeates her pottery.

The conversation shifts away from work and begins to quietly talk about family and daily life.

That moment created a gentle feeling, as if the layers of time were unraveling.

Pottery is an art of nature's quiet cycle, created by earth, fire, and human life.

The work of Asuka Toba, which stands at the center of it all, will remain in the user's mind for a long time, like a "landscape" that gently nestles in the user's memory.