[Ceramic Artist Yusuke Umakawa – Interview, Part II] To Create Is to Live

— In your work, when do you feel the most joy?

It’s definitely the moment of opening the kiln.

No matter how much experience I gain, that moment always makes my heart race.

Thoughts rush in all at once: Did it fire well? This isn’t quite what I imagined… and so on.

Yet, I’m rarely disappointed when I open the kiln.
It’s not so much that I have a wide tolerance for imperfection—
I’m simply excited to see what each piece has become.

That’s why I love every single finished piece (laughs).

Of course, after some time passes, I start thinking, I feel like I could make something even better next time.
And so I move on to the next creation.

This is the cycle of my work.

— On the other hand, is there anything you find challenging in your work?

Being given a theme (laughs).

Whether it’s a university assignment or a commissioned piece,
when someone sets the topic, I tend to overthink it.

If it doesn’t come from within myself, my hands just won’t move.

I used to try hard to adapt,
but now I honestly say, “I’m sorry, I’m not good at being given a theme” (laughs).

— You seem to feel that the themes and styles of your work have evolved over time.

Yes, that’s true. The appearance may change frequently,
but the core remains the same.

I’ve always been expressing the relationship between nature and humans.

Back in university, I focused on plants as motifs.
I was drawn to the shapes of branches and fruits,
and I mostly made objects rather than vessels.

Later, I tried making vessels for people to use,
but when I focused on usability, I felt my expression became limited,
so I realized that wasn’t really my strength.

At a point when I felt stuck, I had a realization:

“As long as I can contain my own expression, it doesn’t matter whether the form is a vessel or an object.”

From that moment, I felt the range of my expression expand.

— A past creation, displayed in the garden of the workshop

— When you engage with nature, what do you feel?

Nature doesn’t bend to our will, does it?

But I think it’s precisely because of this uncontrollable aspect that I’m able to create.

For example, if someone asked me to paint on paper, I don’t think I could do it.
The expression would feel too direct, and I’d be overwhelmed by a sense of embarrassment.

In my work, I rely on a kind of third-party energy—the heat of the kiln—to help bring the piece to life.
You could even say I entrust it to this process.

Sometimes I carve the surface of a piece,
which gives the impression that my own intended expression softens a little.

Showing things as they are feels too vulnerable for me.
It’s only when this external hand intervenes that I feel the work is truly complete.

— Then, what does “ceramics” mean to you, Mr. Umakawa?

Hmm… I’d say it’s the tool of expression that suits me best.

More than painting or putting things into words,
working with clay just feels right.

It’s exciting because unpredictable things happen,
and in the end, what I want to express often emerges in its ideal form.

It’s not so much that I like ceramics—
it’s more that I feel I can’t do anything else.

— Finally, could you tell us what you hope to challenge yourself with in the future?

Honestly, I don’t have any specific goals.

I just want to keep creating.

If I’m not making, I don’t feel at peace—
I think I probably couldn’t live without it.

So, I want to continue making at my own pace,
for as long as I can.

The endless question: “What does it mean to be human?”

As he seeks the answer, Yusuke Umakawa continues to touch the clay and bring forms to life.

Perhaps the very act of creating, the way he moves and shapes,
is already one answer in itself.