Hanada visited Mansaku Nakao’s studio in July, right in the middle of production ahead of his annual August exhibition, which has now become a summer tradition. On a hot day, the studio had just finished a large batch of bisque firing and had begun painting. Shelves were gradually filling with Nakao’s lively works, full of his playful energy. The interview unfolded in a relaxed tone and direct expressions, with constant laughter throughout.

From knowing nothing at all…

Hanada: Man-san (everyone calls Mansaku Nakao “Man-san”), you originally worked in hand-painted Yuzen dyeing, and later entered the ceramic world after meeting Hideo Hata, correct?

Mansaku Nakao: I worked at a hand-painted Yuzen studio in Ito, Shizuoka, where I designed patterns. That’s where I met Hideo Hata.

Hanada: Did you already know what kind of work Hata was doing at that time?

Mansaku Nakao: Not at all. He just looked like an ordinary old man. Though there was something unusual about him—you couldn’t quite tell what he did. I was already getting tired of textile work, and the timing was right when he said, “Ceramics might suit you.”

Hanada: So you joined Kutani Seiyō. Did you study ceramics before joining?

Mansaku Nakao: Not at all. I knew nothing about ceramics.

Hanada: So you started from zero?

Mansaku Nakao: Exactly.

Hanada: Something like, “Try throwing on the wheel first”?

Mansaku Nakao: No, I didn’t start with the wheel. Thanks to my previous job, I could paint from the beginning. At Seiyō at the time, there weren’t many people who could paint, so I just kept painting on blanks made by others. From one end to the other.

Hanada: So painting was your main role from the beginning.

Mansaku Nakao: I thought that was normal. Then about six months later I met Hata again, and when he found out I wasn’t throwing on the wheel, he scolded me quite seriously. “Why aren’t you throwing?” he said. At the time, I thought painting was higher status than throwing. I didn’t want to touch clay—it made my hands dirty.

Hanada: That’s funny. It’s good he told you.

Mansaku Nakao: But once I started throwing, it was interesting. I got completely absorbed and started producing more and more. Eventually I told everyone, “From now on, you should paint your own forms.”

Hanada: That’s quite a self-willed decision.

Mansaku Nakao: Then everyone else started painting too, and each person’s individuality began to show.

What should be conveyed through what we make

Hanada: Kutani Seiyō was founded around the time I was born, and it was truly a pioneer of handmade everyday ceramics.

Mansaku Nakao: At that time, that kind of work wasn’t common. The media had also begun to feature crafts more, and the way of thinking around them was spreading socially.

Hanada: I visited as a child with my father and still remember the strong energy there. It was a period of momentum and collaboration among young makers.

Mansaku Nakao: We were just doing whatever we wanted.

Hanada: I still have some pieces at my family home—possibly yours. I always think, “This must be Man-san’s.” They feel full of energy.

Mansaku Nakao: Maybe they weren’t technically perfect, but everyone was overflowing with energy, and that came through in the work.

Hanada: Seiyō now has many more female makers as well.

Mansaku Nakao: Yes. Men tend to get caught up in pride and theory. Especially art-school types. They talk too much about ceramics theory—no one is listening. It’s not a lecture hall.

Hanada: That’s very direct.

Mansaku Nakao: Those things are just basics. You don’t impose them on others. What matters is what you express through what you make.

Hanada: You don’t really talk about theory, do you?

Mansaku Nakao: I don’t enjoy those conversations. They go in circles.

What is a maker?

Hanada: You were at Seiyō for 16 years before becoming independent. Where does the name “Seiseikyo” come from?

Mansaku Nakao: I thought of it before becoming independent. It comes from The Little Prince—the place where the prince lives. That’s why I named it Seiseikyo.

Hanada: (laughs)

Mansaku Nakao: It’s fine, isn’t it?

Hanada: It’s been 28 years since independence. Almost 30.

Mansaku Nakao: I became independent in the first year of the Heisei era.

Hanada: What do you value most when making work?

Mansaku Nakao: Fundamentals. Preparing clay properly, firing properly…

Hanada: The foundation supports everything that follows.

Mansaku Nakao: Exactly. Like a building—the base must be solid. I also modify clay partly to prevent copying. People will always try to imitate work, so I embed elements that make copying difficult.

Hanada: Your work has a distinctive feel—firmly fired, yet with soft glaze. It doesn’t seem easily reproducible.

Mansaku Nakao: Every maker tries, in their own way, to protect originality. That’s what a maker is: someone who creates something original and protects it.

Hanada: How do ideas emerge?

Mansaku Nakao: They come continuously. When I worked in kimono design, I had to come up with several patterns a day. That habit stayed with me.

Hanada: What did you draw in the beginning?

Mansaku Nakao: Autumn grasses, flowers—quick, loose strokes.

Hanada: That flowing pattern has been there since early on.

Mansaku Nakao: Yes. I also made my own tools to draw them.

Hanada: So. Your clients have supported you for decades. You also seem to value a sense of hospitality.

Mansaku Nakao: It’s not so much about pleasing others. I simply enjoy making things. I’m always thinking about new work—while walking, eating, even in dreams.

Hanada: You’ve been enriching many people’s meals through your work.

The cupboard is my museum

Mansaku Nakao: Recently something nice happened. A cooking teacher, Shigeko Nakamura, called me. She said she found many of my pieces while renovating her house and told me, “You used to make really good work.”

I think of the customers’ cupboards as my museum. My work lives on their tables, in their daily lives.

Hanada: What does food mean to you?

Mansaku Nakao: A moment of gratitude for being alive. Eating happily is the most important thing.

Hanada: What do you want to do going forward?

Mansaku Nakao: Continue as long as I can, without changing.

Hanada: Any message for younger makers?

Mansaku Nakao: You improve by making a lot. Keep refining your sensibility. Be interested in everything—from low-grade to high-end. Nothing is wasted in life.

Hanada: Lastly, any message for your exhibition?

Mansaku Nakao: I made several pieces of this kind. “I can do it.” There are also plain ones with gold accents. I’m looking forward to showing them.

Hanada: Thank you very much.

≪ END ≫