[Ceramic artist: Yen Yu] Vessels that wear memories
Kamigyo Ward, Kyoto City.
It is a quiet and peaceful town where old townhouses and houses built in line with the times coexist side by side.
Located a little away from the hustle and bustle of the tourist area, you can hear the footsteps of people walking down the alleys and sense the presence of everyday life.
The color of the light changes between morning and evening, allowing you to see different expressions on the same road.
The nostalgic feeling of those times still remains in this town today.
In this city, there is a ceramic artist who reflects his own memories and feelings in his vessels.
This time we would like to introduce ceramic artist Yen Yu.
Born and raised in Taiwan, she worked as an office worker in Tokyo, but the COVID-19 pandemic prompted her to reflect on herself and she discovered pottery.
What began as a hobby, pottery, eventually became the focus of her life, and now she spends her days making pottery in her townhouse in Kyoto.
"Somehow, I was able to continue."
As she spoke, her expression was cheerful, yet she also had a strong core.
He discovered pottery in Tokyo, deepened his studies at the Tajimi Ceramic Design Institute, and then moved to Kyoto.
As if guided by something, Yanyu entered the world of pottery.
The workshop is located at the end of a narrow alley.
The townhouse, which was once used as a weaving shop, has high ceilings and is filled with a calm atmosphere.
The soft light streaming in through the south-facing window changes angle from moment to moment, casting quiet shadows inside the workshop.
Morning and afternoon, sunny and cloudy days.
The pottery made here conveys the beautiful atmosphere of the workshop to us.
All of her works have a soft impression.
This is surely because the vessels reflect the time she has lived through.
Deep green reminiscent of moss, the presence of plants quietly enduring the snow, fragments of scenery that suddenly linger in your mind while traveling.
I reinterpret the images I receive from nature and incorporate them into my vessels.
The act of applying the glaze with a brush is just like painting a picture.
Each stroke creates a unique fluctuation, and no two strokes are the same.
The shapes evoke memories of growing up in Taiwan, while the colors reflect the everyday feelings of living in Japan.
Without leaning to one side, her pieces have an appearance in which the boundaries seem to slowly dissolve, giving them a unique depth.
When creating something, he says he rarely draws a clear picture of the finished product from the beginning.
As he turns the potter's wheel, he listens closely to the sensations in his hands and looks at the vessel from various angles, gradually searching for the shape he wants.
The process is more like a conversation than a plan.
As you face the clay and listen to what it has to say, the vessel gradually takes shape.
"I'd be happy if people who use it would accept it freely."
Her pottery is imbued with a definite image and feeling.
But I don't insist on that.
The vessels are passed on to the user's daily life as if they were gently speaking of memories of a trip.
There, the memories of the maker and the user overlap, creating a new landscape.