Discovering the Joy of Making Things

Hanada: Did you enjoy making things when you were a child?

Jaeho Choi : I always looked forward to arts and crafts class. I loved working with clay.

Hanada: You also like drawing, don’t you?

Jaeho Choi : Since my family was poor, I didn’t go to kindergarten or any after-school cram schools, but I always worked incredibly hard on my school homework. One day, we had an assignment to draw a picture, and I ended up winning first prize. What do you call it in Japanese? You draw a picture and write about what happened that day…

Hanada: A picture diary?

Jaeho Choi : Yes, that’s it, a picture diary! Because of that, my drawings were always displayed at the back of the classroom, which made me so happy. Eventually, I started aiming to go to an art university. If I was going to do it, I wanted to aim for the very top. But that turned out to be quite difficult. I failed the entrance exam three times and finally got in on my fourth attempt.

Hanada: So it took you three years?

Jaeho Choi : Yes, I failed a lot (laughs). I was just so determined to go to that school.

Hanada: Was there a specific professor you wanted to study under?

Jaeho Choi : No, not really. Once I decide I want to go somewhere, I just can’t change my mind. Even though someone like me didn’t seem to stand a chance of passing. If I had failed a fourth time, I would have had to join the military, so I barely made it in on the last try.

Hanada: How was it when the results were announced?

Jaeho Choi : I was planning to go see them by myself, but my father suddenly said he would come along. I remember taking the overnight train to Seoul. We walked from Seoul Station to the university in complete silence. As we approached the campus, university staff were just about to put up large sheets of paper on the bulletin board. I was terrified to look. Walking closer from a distance, I suddenly spotted my number written in ink. My father and I hugged each other and broke down in tears.

Hanada: You still remember it clearly.

Jaeho Choi : I will never forget it. I called my mother right away, and she was crying heavily too. It was a beautiful, clear day.

Hanada: Did you have a specific major?

Jaeho Choi : The ceramic art department.

Hanada: So you had already set your heart on ceramic art back then!

Jaeho Choi : Actually, the required test score for the ceramics department was lower, making it easier to get into (laughs). I just wanted to get into the university, no matter what major it was.

The Encounter with a White Porcelain Jar

Hanada: Was there a particular turning point that turned ceramic art into your career?

Jaeho Choi : It was a white porcelain jar from the Joseon Dynasty. I encountered it during my second year of university at the Samsung Museum of Art in Seoul, which I visited to write a report.

Hanada: Which period of the Joseon Dynasty was it from?

Jaeho Choi : The mid-Joseon period. I was so deeply moved by its simple form that I instantly decided to study white porcelain after graduation.

Hanada: That was truly a life-changing encounter.

Jaeho Choi : I felt the balance between its height and width was incredibly beautiful. It looks perfectly round, yet it isn’t quite a perfect circle. It is hard to find the right words to describe it.

The Apprenticeship Years

Hanada: What did you do after graduation?

Jaeho Choi : Back then—about 15 or 16 years ago—pottery regions near Seoul like Icheon and Gwangju mostly used molds in their white porcelain workshops, and nobody was recreating historical pieces. While I was struggling to decide on my path, a gallery owner introduced me to someone who restored antiques. He was famous in the antique world, and he was about the only one who handled everything from white porcelain to celadon. I stayed there for two years. His name was Mr. Lee Myung-bae.

Hanada: You must have learned a great deal from him.

Jaeho Choi : For example, if he needed to recreate a foot ring for a piece that lacked one, he would throw the entire shape, cut out only the part he needed, and discard the rest. He told me that simply making the missing part and throwing it on wouldn’t work. By matching the overall form and the clay to the atmosphere and quality of the original era, the added part would blend seamlessly over time. He taught me about various historical periods, such as the evolution of white porcelain through the 15th, 16th, and 17th to 18th centuries. He showed me which foot ring shapes, clay types, and glazes belonged to which era. White porcelain was pure white at first, but it gradually became softer, and towards the end of the period, it took on a slightly bluish tint. He taught me how to fire the kiln to achieve that…

Hanada: It sounds like it was the perfect place for your apprenticeship. Are there any words from him that left a lasting impression on you?

Jaeho Choi : He told me, “Look at the lines.” He emphasized that I must always value the line.

Hanada: So your current emphasis on lines stems from your teacher’s words.

Jaeho Choi : When I told him I wanted to study jars, he said, “Just because it is round doesn’t make it a jar.” He also told me, “Do not look at what contemporary people are making; go to museums instead.”

Hanada: Did you make various pieces using those museum objects as a reference?

Jaeho Choi : At first, I only did cleaning. I was dying to touch the clay. At his workshop, the teacher would start drinking around four in the afternoon. He drank three bottles of soju every night, repeating the same stories over and over. Keeping him company was part of my job, but he would usually get drunk and fall asleep by six. One day, after he went to bed, I quickly threw about twenty teacups and lined them up on a shelf board. The teacher always woke up earlier than me. That makes sense, considering how early he went to sleep (laughs). The next morning, he called me over and asked, “What did you make last night?!” When I answered that I had made teacups, he suddenly grabbed them and hurled them away. He said, “You came here to study jars, so why are you making teacups like these? You must challenge yourself with jars while you are young! If you make teacups like these, you can manage to make a living for now, but you won’t be able to survive like this when you are old. Look at the bigger picture!” That was a profound shock to me, and even now, every time I make a teacup, that scene comes back to my mind.

Hanada: Were those teacups well-made?

Jaeho Choi : I completely forgot about that part (laughs). I wanted to stay there a bit longer, but the teacher passed away suddenly from a myocardial infarction. After that, I rented an old traditional house near the Joseon Dynasty official kiln site in Seoah-ri, Gwangju, built my own kiln there, and started making various pieces.

Moving to Japan

Hanada: What brought you to Japan?

Jaeho Choi : I happened to have an opportunity to hold an exhibition in Tokyo, and I was amazed by how Japanese people look at pottery. They are incredibly passionate, and the way they observe pieces is entirely different from people in Korea. Japanese tradition is deeply rooted in tea culture. Even people who don’t practice the tea ceremony have inherited that fundamental aesthetic sense within themselves, and I was moved to see them looking at my pieces. A traditional sense of beauty flows through ordinary people here; that is what Japan is like. I immediately decided that if I was going to make pottery, I should do it in Japan.

Hanada: For Japanese people, enjoying pottery is by no means anything special; ordinary people simply enjoy it in their daily lives. If I remember correctly, when you moved here to Shunan City, Yamaguchi Prefecture, you came straight out here without checking out the place beforehand, right?

Jaeho Choi : An acquaintance told me there happened to be an empty house available, so I made my decision just by looking at a photo. I figured I wouldn’t really know what it was like until I actually lived there anyway. That was in 2004. However, it was far beyond what I had imagined. The house was so old that it needed extensive repairs. For the first two years, I did nothing but carpentry work. I felt depressed, wondering what I had come to Japan for. But then I realized that I had become arrogant back in Korea.

Hanada: Is that so…

Jaeho Choi : Having graduated from a top art university, I suppose I was putting on airs as an artist, focusing too much on appearances. People around me still treated me well enough despite that. When I first started out in Japan, I walked around carrying my pieces in a bag, visiting galleries in Osaka and Kyoto. I faced rejection after rejection, with people saying things like, “I’m sorry, we already work with artists who do Joseon-style pieces, so it’s a bit difficult for us,” or “Personally, I like it, but it doesn’t match the atmosphere of our shop.” In the end, one gallery even told me, “We can’t carry your work, but we will watch over you from afar” (laughs).

Hanada: Watching over you from afar doesn’t help much (laughs).

Jaeho Choi : I could hardly speak any Japanese at the time, so it was a painful experience. Eventually, I realized this approach wasn’t working, so I changed my mindset and decided to just focus on making pieces. I figured if I kept creating and creating, things would work out somehow.

Hanada: It is hard to tell whether you were feeling depressed or just optimistic. I like that quality about you.

Jaeho Choi : Then, I poured all my mental and physical energy into building my own body of work. It is precisely because of that experience that I am who I am today.

The Line

Hanada: What does the “line” mean to you?

Jaeho Choi : I am still searching for my own line—a line that truly fits me. Deep in these Japanese mountains, working with the specific thickness of clay that I feel at my fingertips on any given day, I want to intuitively find a beautiful balance as the clay thins out under my hands.

Hanada: Would it be fair to say that the “line” is an essential means of expression for you, and that your daily life, past experiences, and thoughts all manifest in that line? What kind of “line” do you prefer?

Jaeho Choi : Rather than a line with delicate tension, I am looking for something slightly softer. A line that looks straight but contains a subtle curve. Whether I am making a jar or tableware, there is always a moment when I feel the line instinctively.

The Appeal of Pottery

Hanada: What is the appeal of pottery for you?

Jaeho Choi : I feel a deep sense of comfort when I sense the lines in the clay with my fingertips while throwing on the wheel.

Hanada: What is it like when you are making a jar?

Jaeho Choi : To make a moon jar, I join two bowls together and shape them further on the wheel. The process of the form coming together is incredibly enjoyable. Creating the rim is the climax. I step back to look at the overall balance from a distance, or agonize over how to finish it, because subtle details can change the balance completely. Ultimately, the fascinating part of pottery is that the shape is finalized through firing. The piece doesn’t come out exactly as I shaped it; it enters a high-temperature kiln to become pottery, shrinking and distorting in the process. The distinct charm of a jar lies in joining two halves together, as the way it deforms is completely different from a piece pulled up entirely from a single lump of clay. This is because the rotation of the wheel differs between the top and the bottom. If it didn’t change, it probably wouldn’t be fun, and even if I do this until the day I die, I will never be able to know the outcome from the start. The excitement of waiting for the kiln to cool down and opening it remains exactly the same as it was in the past.

Hanada: How do you feel about making tableware?

Jaeho Choi : I knew almost nothing about Japanese food, so I struggled a lot when I first came to Japan.

Hanada: In Japan, people hold their tableware in their hands.

Jaeho Choi : At first, a rice bowl was the hardest thing to make. In Korea, if you lift your tableware while eating, your father will scold you severely (laughs).

Hanada: (Laughs) That is the exact opposite of Japan. In Japan, you get scolded if you don’t hold it.

Jaeho Choi : What kind of food will be served on this plate? How will this bowl be used? I can visualize these things much better now. Fundamentally, I want to create tableware that I would want to use myself.

Hanada: Right now, that would be Oyakodon (chicken and egg rice bowl), wouldn’t it? (At the time of the interview, Jaeho was passionate about making Oyakodon using his own pieces)

Jaeho Choi : (Laughs). It is all very interesting. There are many ingredients and dishes that I discovered for the first time after coming to Japan. As someone who makes things, I believe it is essential to eat delicious food and visit stylish shops.

The Beauty of the Entire Line

Hanada: What kind of tableware work do you feel best represents you?

Jaeho Choi : My favorite pieces to make are bowls. It is fascinating to feel the thinness of the clay while watching the line emerge from my hands. Not a straight line, but a line that curves smoothly like a wave.

Hanada: When you throw on the wheel, your face gets incredibly close to the clay, doesn’t it?

Jaeho Choi : That’s because I have poor eyesight (laughs).

Hanada: Also, you take deep breaths while throwing on the wheel. I haven’t really seen other potters do that.

Jaeho Choi : I don’t really know why myself. I started doing it about two or three years ago. If I keep working in the exact same posture, I can only create the same shapes. But throwing while exhaling feels entirely different from throwing while holding my breath. My body just reacts naturally, making sounds like a long exhale or a sharp breath.

Hanada: So it is a physical reaction that comes out naturally?

Jaeho Choi : I was conscious of it at first, but lately it happens unconsciously. When you get used to the work, the lines tend to become ordinary. When I was thinking about how to break out of that pattern, I started changing my breathing, changing the way I use my hands to center the clay, or altering the rotation speed of the wheel.

Hanada: By intentionally avoiding familiar methods, you challenge yourself.

Jaeho Choi : As your skills improve, each individual cross-section becomes cleaner, but I believe that by breaking that down and reconstructing it every time, the beauty of the overall line emerges. Once something goes well, you tend to want to trace over that success. Instead, I want to always maintain the feeling of creating from scratch. Besides, throwing on the wheel while exhaling prevents back pain (laughs). Almost all potters suffer from back pain, you know.

Hanada: (Laughs) You should share that with everyone.

Jaeho Choi : Oh no, it’s a trade secret (laughs).

What I Learned from the Japanese People

Hanada: You continue to work today while holding onto your admiration for the Joseon Dynasty.

Jaeho Choi : When I was in Korea, I don’t think I understood the true appeal of my own country’s pottery. When you visit places like the Japan Folk Crafts Museum, you see many Korean pieces from the Joseon Dynasty. I used to think that the Japanese fondness for Joseon pottery was just a simple form of admiration. But in reality, it isn’t that simple.

Hanada: I do think there is a sense of admiration involved.

Jaeho Choi : Yes, but I used to think of it too lightly. Lately, I have come to ponder what the differences were between Japan and Joseon during that era. In the past, I feel I was just trying to copy the superficial forms of Joseon pottery, determined to make an identical jar. Now, that desire has completely vanished, and I look at history as a continuous flow, trying to understand why the people of the Joseon Dynasty created those specific forms.

Hanada: Rather than the superficial shape or size, you mean trying to capture the mood and mindset of the people of that time that led them to create those pieces?

Jaeho Choi : Exactly. It feels as though the society, politics, culture, and daily life of that era all came together to be symbolized in that pottery. I want to feel that essence, and I don’t think I would have understood this if I hadn’t come to Japan. Seeing how deeply Japanese people cherish Joseon pottery may have taught me the true appeal of my own country’s craft.

Hanada: The atmosphere of Joseon pottery changes between the early, middle, and late periods as well.

Jaeho Choi : Whether it is blue and white or plain white porcelain, I personally prefer the pieces from the 17th and 18th centuries. The early period shows a strong Chinese influence in terms of form, design, materials, and production methods. However, moving from the 15th century toward the 17th century, it gradually became distinctly Korean.

Hanada: The influences they received were digested and became part of their own identity.

Jaeho Choi : I don’t know if the people of that time did it consciously, but they began making things that were different from China. As it became truly their own, it took on a deeply human warmth.

Shohei Matsuda

Hanada: You also like the paintings of Shohei Matsuda.

Jaeho Choi : About five or six years after coming to Japan, I happened to see a poster for Mr. Matsuda’s exhibition and visited the museum. That was the beginning. I was drawn to his use of color and expression. Whether it is a painting of a fish or a rose, he possesses his own unique line. It is never overbearing; it is soft. I also went to see his centenary exhibition, and looking at his journey from his early works to his final years made me feel many things.

Hanada: Did it influence your own work?

Jaeho Choi : There were many aspects that made me reflect on my own work. Stripping away the excess. Eliminating unnecessary lines. To avoid doing unnecessary things, you need a solid foundation. It is different from your hands simply getting used to the work and making things look neat and tidy. How do you maintain the touch and mindset you had before your hands became fully accustomed to the process? Intentionally making it look unskilful feels unnatural, so it is very difficult. I suppose it comes down to facing your craft with complete honesty regarding your feelings at that moment. There are times when I throw on the wheel while intoxicated, and human feelings vary depending on whether it is cold or hot.

Gratitude

Hanada: You also love music, and that is how you cultivate your creative mood. Perhaps what you call “feelings” is close to “sensibility.”

Jaeho Choi : I interact with people based on intuition as well, so I can’t lie or hide things. Sometimes I think I’d like to appear sophisticated, but it never works out well.

Hanada: Your taste in music is quite broad, ranging from classical and jazz to Mariah Carey.

Jaeho Choi : And when I’m drunk, I suppose it’s Korean ballads (laughs).

Hanada: What are the respective charms of Korea and Japan from your perspective?

Jaeho Choi : In Korea, I like that everyone is honest and doesn’t worry too much about formalities. People might lose their temper quickly, but they become friends through arguing, and they don’t make you feel tense. Japanese people are gentle. Even when I ask for directions, everyone is incredibly kind.

Hanada: Don’t people in Korea give you directions? (laughs)

Jaeho Choi : They tend to give a casual, vague answer and leave it at that (laughs). In Japan, people will sometimes walk with you to show you the way. Korean people are kind too, but I really appreciate the quiet kindness of Japanese people.

Hanada: A quiet kindness. That is wonderful to hear.

Jaeho Choi : Since coming to Japan, so many people have truly taken care of me. I must ensure I don’t become arrogant and always remember to be grateful. It’s not just about thinking “they are a good person because they buy my pieces.”

Hanada: (Laughs) That is certainly part of it, but it’s not the only thing.

Ten Years from Now…

Hanada: I wonder what kind of pieces you will be making ten years from now.

Jaeho Choi : I think it will be the same as now. I don’t want to change. Right now, I am falling in love with white porcelain all over again.

Hanada: Has your view of white porcelain changed compared to before?

Jaeho Choi : I think it has changed significantly. In the past, my attention was focused on mimicking cool shapes or making the clay pure white, but now I focus solely on what is right in front of me, channeling my spirit through my fingertips and expressing what I feel directly.

Toward the Solo Exhibition

Hanada: Could you share a final word for this solo exhibition?

Jaeho Choi : I’ve finally become highly successful in Japan, so I think I still have a long way to go…

Artist’s Wife: Don’t you mean “active” rather than “highly successful”?

Jaeho Choi : Ah, yes, active.

Hanada: (Laughs) I was just thinking it sounded a bit unusual for you to describe yourself as “highly successful.”

Jaeho Choi : I’m sorry, my Japanese can be a bit strange. I intend to do my very best to create a wide variety of forms, and I am delighted to have so many people view them.

Hanada: Thank you very much.

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