[Ceramic artist: Yuka Ando] Color and shape, what lies beyond

The day I visited Tanba Sasayama, it was so cold that snow was falling.

The air in the mountains is so clear that even the sound of footsteps seems to be sucked into the distance.

On such a winter day, we visited the studio and home of ceramic artist Yuka Ando.

The building, which was renovated based on a design by the husband, has a modern appearance that lets in plenty of light, while still retaining memories of traditional Japanese architecture in many places.

The new and the old did not clash, but blended naturally within the same space.

This building, which serves as both a place for production and a place for living, has a generous nature that welcomes people without pretense.

Before the shoot began, Ando treated us to tea.

With the steaming teacups in front of them, the conversation naturally expands to include topics ranging from artisanal craftsmanship to everyday life.

He is a good talker, cheerful and able to lighten the mood in any situation, but he never wastes a word.

Before I knew it, the tension I felt when we first met had quickly faded away.

When talking about his approach to production and his inner thoughts, he chooses his words carefully, but his clear tone throughout leaves a lasting impression.

Her candid attitude about the doubts and weaknesses she felt in the past gave me the sense of strength that keeps her in touch with herself.

I think that beneath his cheerfulness lies a definite strictness.

The first thing that catches your eye about the pieces lined up on the shelves in the workshop are their dignified shapes and beautiful silhouettes.

Each piece has a natural appearance, yet exudes a definite presence.

The refined design reveals the accumulated experience and trial and error that has gone into the creation of the piece.

Layered on top of this are gentle, deep colors.

It is never completed with a single color, but rather multiple layers of pale color gradations create a rich expression.

The impression changes depending on the angle from which you view it and the way the light hits it, and although it is just a vessel, it leaves a somewhat painterly impression.

There were moments that reminded me of Turner's landscapes of mist and light.

When asked about his work, Ando told us that he rarely decides on colors or shapes based on intuition alone.

Try, think, and build on it.

After repeating this process many times, the work takes shape.

After completing the work, he suddenly realizes that a beautiful scene he saw in the past is reflected in the piece.

The color of the sky you saw while traveling, the ever-changing light, and the scenery that stayed in your mind.

These are stored as memories, and over time, they unintentionally appear in the work.

His way of speaking conveyed the sincerity and concentration of a researcher who continues to engage earnestly with color.

There is a definite energy in Ando's works.

However, it is not so powerful that it overwhelms the viewer.

It will naturally emerge as you continue to explore shapes and colors.

The uncompromising words and the tense atmosphere that permeated the venue seemed deeply connected to his creative approach.

When we left the workshop, it was even colder than when we arrived.

Yet, deep inside, there remains a mysterious warmth.

He has a cheerful personality, a hidden strength, and energy that permeates his work.

It felt like what we received from all of this was warming us from the inside out, even in the cold air.