Making his first appearance at Hanada is Kazu Oba. Born in 1971, Kazu moved to the United States at the age of 18 and later studied under Takashi Nakazato. After establishing his independence, he has been dynamically creating pottery around the world, based in Colorado and working in Denmark, Germany, Japan, and beyond. Kazu Oba is known for the grand scale of his work. His philosophy and extraordinary drive offer a glimpse into the future of ceramics. Let’s delve into Kazu’s past, present, and future. Please enjoy the read.

Hanada: You first encountered pottery during your student days in the United States, correct?

Kazu Oba : Since I was a child, I dreamed of becoming a diplomat, so I began studying international relations at the University of Colorado. To be honest, I kept dropping out and re-enrolling, and in the end, I was registered there for eleven years (laughs). Somewhere along the way, I became interested in art. For the last three years before graduation, I was in the fine arts department. I tried everything—printmaking, photography, painting, and pottery—but since I preferred three-dimensional forms, I focused particularly on sculpture. Even now, my perception of objects remains three-dimensional.

Hanada: Perhaps leaving Japan is what awakened your passion for making things.

Kazu Oba : If I hadn’t come to America, I wouldn’t have become a ceramic artist. I don’t have any relatives who are potters, nor did I grow up in an artistic family. I might never have paid attention to my identity as a Japanese person, or to the food culture and tableware traditions that Japanese people cherish.

Hanada: I also spent some time on the East Coast. Living there, I realized that there are certain things you can only see when you actively immerse yourself in another community. I believe there are things you can only discover and learn when you put yourself in a situation where you are the only Japanese person among a group of locals. Eventually, you get used to it. Encountering something different makes your own uniqueness stand out, and it also gives you an opportunity to re-examine your roots.

Kazu Oba : Although there are individual differences, Japan is truly unique. It might sound vague, but the food culture is profoundly deep, standing far out from the rest.

Hanada: A German person once told me that there is up to an eightfold difference between Germany and Japan. Can you guess what that difference is? It is the amount of tableware a single household owns. In Japan, we use different items depending on the ingredients, the season, and the occasion.

Kazu Oba : Thanks to its climate and geography, Japan has an abundance of ingredients unlike anywhere else in the world.

Hanada: Now, it was also in Colorado that you met your mentor, Takashi Nakazato, wasn’t it?

Kazu Oba : Yes, we met in Colorado while I was still at the university. I took a seminar where we visited various artists, painters, and potters. I first met Nakazato-sensei during a field trip for that class at the Anderson Ranch Arts Center.

Hanada: And did you become his apprentice after graduation?

Kazu Oba : At first, I apprenticed under the sculptor Jerry Wingren for four years. During the last two years of that apprenticeship, whenever Nakazato-sensei came to Colorado, I would visit his studio. In the beginning, I was just his drinking companion in America. However, I started getting interested in pottery, and as I tried to do it by imitating what I saw, I became completely absorbed.

Hanada: How was your time with Mr. Nakazato?

Kazu Oba : There is one thing where I knew I could absolutely never compete with him. It is the amount of energy and time Nakazato-sensei dedicates to pottery and the world surrounding it—namely, food culture. He devotes every single moment to it, except when he is asleep. For instance, he spends an hour and a half on breakfast, an hour and a half to two hours on lunch, and five, six, or seven hours on dinner every single day. A three-hour dinner is considered fast food to him (laughs). Actually, at that rate, he might even be thinking about food while he sleeps (laughs). For me, working alone now, this is practically impossible.

Hanada: What about the actual making of objects?

Kazu Oba : Making what is necessary for myself—that is the foundation of my work. I make whatever I feel I need. Conversely, if I don’t need it, I don’t make it.

Hanada: You have been making pottery not only in North America but also in Denmark and Germany. I heard you are going to South Korea next. You must have many opportunities to see ancient things in each country.

Kazu Oba : I don’t have a specific favorite genre, but I think antique porcelain is wonderful. I also like vintage Royal Copenhagen. Old German pieces are amazing too. Wherever you go, antique objects are remarkable, both technically and aesthetically. The makers weren’t trying to create something magnificent just to be praised or recognized; their primary goal was to make something that was the easiest to use in daily life. That simplicity purely captivates the heart. For example, rather than going to an art museum, I prefer visiting local history museums to see how people lived back then and the items they used in their daily lives. Those objects do not exist for an artist’s self-expression. Of course, I like art pieces too. There are things I find cool or admire. But to be honest, I have never been moved to tears by them. On the other hand, the Sueki ware I saw in Seto recently was at a level that could only be achieved by working twenty hours a day.

Hanada: When we feel lost or troubled in the process of making things, we ultimately have to rely on the classics.

Kazu Oba : Exactly, that is very true.

Hanada: In the items you create, I see various qualities that seem contradictory at first glance. They feel Eastern yet Western, classic yet contemporary, masculine yet feminine. Even when we talk, I sense both a passionate side and a cool, objective side to you. In a way, I think this is because you do not define the boundaries or style of your work in advance. You simply and purely create what you want to make, following your intuition. In a sense, it shows how serious you are with yourself. Because you don’t think too much about “expressing your individuality,” your true unique character naturally shines through. When you make tableware, what do you specifically value?

Kazu Oba : What I value most, or rather, where I focus all my attention, is shaping the rim. I believe the rim of the tableware is everything. Everything else can be adjusted to fit around it (laughs). At the same time, what matters most in ceramics is the service end—that is, the inside. After all, the food is served on the inside (laughs). I believe that if the inside is well-defined, the outside will naturally come together. In the first place, a discrepancy between the inside and the outside is a matter of technique, not a matter of sensibility or form. When I throw on the wheel, I place my dominant hand on the inside. Since I spin it clockwise and keep my right hand inside, people often ask if I am left-handed.

Hanada: That approach is close to the traditional Eastern sensibility of pottery.

Kazu Oba : On the other hand, I feel that people in the West tend to focus their attention on smoothing the outside.

Hanada: Colorado, your base of operations, must be a beautiful place.

Kazu Oba : Being in Colorado is just a coincidence. I don’t think for a moment that my base absolutely has to be there. Starting sculpture and pottery were both accidental. I didn’t move to Colorado to follow Nakazato-sensei either. On the other hand, the low humidity in Colorado is very suitable for my current making process. So, I do feel a certain sense of mission or destiny to make pottery here, in a way. If I said the location didn’t matter at all, it wouldn’t sound very good, so please let me add that much (laughs). However, there is no single method that is the correct one or the most amazing. There is no such thing as “that anagama kiln is the best” or “that clay is the best.” It is about doing your best work in each specific location. The process of searching for that “best” in each place is also very enjoyable. I believe there is basically no rule saying it has to be done a certain way. Each has its own merit, and believing that keeps me motivated.

Hanada: Regarding your approach to your studio and methodologies, you value them, but you are not attached to them; you maintain an open stance. It feels like looking at a miniature representation of Japanese people who focus on “What” to do, and Westerners who focus on “How” to make it successful. While you value the former, you seem closer to the latter.

Kazu Oba : Some might feel that you can only do your true work if you have your own kiln, but I want to travel and work in various places. My goal is to have people from all over the world come to my studio to work. I want chefs to come too. Right now, I am exploring the idea of a communal living space with friends who are potters and farmers.

Hanada: I really like that sense of scale. On the other hand, I am interested in how you view the current world of Japanese crafts and tableware, or the artists themselves.

Kazu Oba : In the first place, the food is the main character, and the tableware I make is meant for eating, serving, and drinking. It is nothing more and nothing less. Looking at it from that perspective, I feel that everyone decides on their style too much in advance. It is as if the details they worry about are misplaced—sometimes when we talk, I find myself thinking, “Are you really focusing on that?” (laughs). I wish things could be more natural. It often feels like people are making things just for the sake of making them. Well, I am in no position to preach (laughs). Also, rather than focusing on selling, becoming famous, or being talked about, perhaps people could focus more on the act of making itself.

Hanada: Perhaps each individual has become too deeply integrated into the economic structure of the craft market, which isn’t even that large. Many people must have started this job because they wanted to avoid getting stuck in such places and feeling constrained. Furthermore, the artists themselves and their lifestyles have become a significant part of the promotional content nowadays, so they have to be mindful of that as well. Of course, that aspect is important too, but it means you have to prepare a cool response just in case someone asks, “What do you think about when you throw on the wheel?” (laughs).

Kazu Oba : When I throw on the wheel, I am usually only thinking about what to have for dinner that night (laughs). Also, I don’t really have specific desires for how people should use my work, or a wish for them to handle it with extreme care. For me, what truly matters and feels urgent are practical details—like realizing a piece needs to be a bit longer because the grilled saury sticks out, or making a sake flask thin so it holds as much as possible and the user won’t accidentally run out and feel embarrassed. Those are the pressing concerns for me.

Hanada: For instance, do you take extra care knowing that people in America will be using your work?

Kazu Oba : Americans use a tremendous amount of soy sauce (laughs), so I make the dishes shallow so they can’t pour too much, or I shape them like a mortar so that even a small amount looks like a generous serving (laughs).

Hanada: It has been five or six years since I met you. Do you have any plans for the future?

Kazu Oba : I simply love making things. It is not about having dexterous hands or creating exquisite objects; it is about the process of imagining in my head, sketching, throwing on the wheel, or using a chisel. When I do that, the things I want to do and make come up one after another. I don’t want to lose that joy. Many people, including myself, tend to forget this as they grow up. When we were children, everyone enjoyed making things, didn’t they? But as people become adults, they start saying, “I’m not dexterous,” or “I’m not an artist,” and they become controlled by these preconceived notions. They get too caught up in things like the era or country they were born in, or the kind of family they grew up in. I want to immerse myself in making objects so that I don’t end up that way.

Hanada: And finally, your work will be showcased at Hanada. There is the 10-artist exhibition in March, followed by your solo exhibition in June. We are truly looking forward to it.

Kazu Oba : I want to create items that are not like beer.

Hanada: Tableware like beer?

Kazu Oba : I mean items that go well with anything and can be used for everything. In a way, that is wonderful too, but if you aim for that from the very beginning, it usually isn’t what you truly want to make. Multi-functionality is not a bad thing. However, those kinds of items are rarely the absolute best choice for any single purpose. Beer goes well with any dish, but it is different from a pairing where you say, “If you are eating this, it has to be this drink!” Ultimately, sake goes best with sashimi, wine goes best with pasta, and aquavit is the absolute best for pickled herring. Oh, but I do love beer myself.

Hanada: If you aim for multi-purpose use from the start, that is what happens. By first having a specific vision, something excellent is created. If the result turns out to be multi-purpose, that is something to be welcomed. In any case, I look forward to seeing pieces that reflect a thorough pursuit of your vision. I also have various antiques and items I would like you to see.

Kazu Oba : I look forward to that. I intend to give it my all.

It was an interview where English naturally blended in as the conversation grew lively, but talking with Kazu is purely delightful. I sense a grand scale and great potential in him. There are parts where our thoughts align, and parts where they differ. However, even when we disagree, I never feel any sense of rejection from Kazu toward things that are different from his own views. He is broad-minded, yet delicate at times, living each day brightly with full physical and mental energy. Giving your all to something is truly a wonderful thing.