Aki Katayama

A unique body of work born from boundless curiosity

Striped patterns reminiscent of wood grain, softly rounded silhouettes, a gentle, comforting touch. The ceramics of Aki Katayama have a tender atmosphere and a quiet, dignified strength that makes it hard to believe they are made of clay. The visit was to the nature‑surrounded atelier where these pieces are created, and to the gallery where they are permanently on display.

Creative time with clay in an atelier embraced by nature

Katayama’s atelier stands on a hill by Zennyuji Temple in Hongo‑cho, in a quiet spot surrounded by greenery. The building is an old folk house that evokes memories of a grandmother’s home in the countryside. From there, a separate room is reached with the words, “This is where I make my work.” Outside the window stretches a view of lush mountains, and from time to time a pleasant breeze drifts in. The background music seems to be the voices of wild birds and insects, yet with a laugh comes the comment, “I usually work while listening to podcasts and my favorite radio programs.”

When the work process is demonstrated, a solid mass of clay is quietly shaved down. It is not formed on a potter’s wheel, as is common in ceramics, nor is it simple hand‑building. “This is a tatara technique,” comes the explanation. “I stack plate‑shaped clay, called tatara, together with colored clay in layers to form a single block, then carve that block into the shape of a vessel.”

“Right now I’m shaving the block with a kanna plane. The process of shaping everything by hand just goes on and on.” Coiling and hand‑building are traditional techniques, but this laminated tatara method is an original approach devised by Katayama. The amount of clay carved away is overwhelming, and only a small portion of the layered colored clay remains in the finished piece, a method that almost feels bewildering in its wastefulness. “It takes a lot of time and effort, and scraping away so much clay is such an inefficient way of working that it might be hard for others to even think of doing it. People in the same field often tell me I’m crazy for it,” comes the comment with a laugh.

Katayama has always enjoyed detailed, repetitive tasks and feels more energized when creating slowly at a personal pace. “I’m not very good with the speed of an electric potter’s wheel, and it suits me better to take my time, thinking carefully about each individual shape as I make it,” is said with clear delight.

Choosing an artistic path while studying abroad

“Since childhood, there was a love of working with the hands—drawing pictures, playing with mud, mixing colored water. But there was never really any thought of going to art school or pursuing art. There were always people who seemed more talented, like a sister or classmates.” Katayama’s father is potter Masaaki Katayama. “My father would say, ‘Making things is good,’ but he never told me or my sisters, ‘I want you to do ceramics,’ or ‘I want you to take over.’ The world is wide, so you can go anywhere and do anything—that was his stance.”

One of the reasons Katayama eventually chose ceramics came during a period of study abroad. “In junior high and high school, English and languages were interesting, so in high school there was a 10‑month study abroad in Australia. In art class there, assignments had to be finished within a set time, and that was difficult. There was always a rush to finish somehow, and it felt like that was just how it was. But then the teacher encouraged taking the work home and drawing carefully until satisfied. When that piece was completed, the art teacher praised it and asked, ‘Why not aim for art college?’ That was the first time the idea of an art path became real.” After returning to Japan, there was hesitation right up to the end between languages and art, but the final decision was to enter Kyoto City University of Arts. From the second year, ceramics became the major. “For some reason, my father seemed very happy at that time.”

After graduating, life in Kyoto continued with part‑time work alongside making pottery. Through the late twenties, days were spent moving from one place with a kiln to another, searching for a personal style. A turning point came with a special

Aki Katayama Exhibition

2/7 Sat. ~ 3/1 Sun. 2009

What does the happiness of a maker mean? 

More than 20 years ago, I visited a potter in Hokuriku. He lived with his wife and children in a country house that doubled as a workplace. He had a split bamboo kiln built elsewhere. In the living room, the young potter had a pale look and sat down with something like pride and murder. The tatami mats were conspicuously cracked, and something like pen pen grass was growing from the tatami mats. But I remember the child's eyes were clear and his cheeks were red. Poor may be poor, but it seemed that there would be great salvation in his life. He had the atmosphere of living in a strange world of pottery. It can be said that strangeness is a value that exists in Kenkon, which is different from Nari and Fuki. There may be times when you play with the innocent life that divides the blood and flesh and wash your heart. Such a child cannot be seen in the city. Although he was reluctant, he thought that he was satisfied with the situation, accepting the situation, or living according to the circumstances, with a clear heart. Above all, I thought that was reflected in what he made.

The world is unrelenting. Even now and in the past, human beings are all money, but what remains is their heart. No matter how blessed you are with things and convenience, it seems difficult to maintain your mental health. It's not that there's no food to eat today, but it's not that there's nothing to eat today, but it's a water service that can be twisted, clean toilets, safe and accurate transportation, an ambulance that can be carried by free, a library that can read books, health insurance, and when in trouble. It is said that almost all the people who gathered have been granted welfare protection, even though it is a dispatched village these days. Isn't it unusual? And above all, we do not hear the explosion sound in our daily lives. It's a really well-made product, and I think it's a reign that governs this kind of society. From the point of view of people in a certain country, it looks like heaven. However, how many of us are worried about our hearts. What a weak heart to endure lack and misery. For example, equality is desired, but in reality society cannot be equal. The world is full of reluctance and regret. Nevertheless, he says that he only evaluates perfect equality. I can't forgive you. I can't forgive and can't stand it. That kind of heart is eroding my heart. My life has already been haunted, as Kenko Yoshida says, but I don't think so.

It seems that people are in a bad mood unless they are self-centered forever. I think so ... In that case, we should push the ego further and seek and build our own world of iron walls that is not violated by anything. Rather than being trapped in Ressentiment, demanding only to receive it, the starting point is lack and misery, and the egoistic pursuit of value for one person. For that purpose, mental freedom will be required. I feel that someone who can do that is truly happy. I have no choice but to fill my heart with myself.

Kudan's potters were driving themselves into the immersive state of pottery, transforming omissions and misfortunes into higher ones. A young woman named Aki Katayama of this exhibition is also a person who can do it. She may not be in trouble, but she finds and chooses what to do and has her own world as a lifetime value. It is a world that no one can invade. It is the ultimate self-centered world that is cut off. It is free in it. I envy these kinds of people. If more people like this increase in the world, I think it will be a reign that will settle down in terms of mind. The true heart is the most uncontrollable, though it is my own.

Her pottery technique is called "Kurinukide", which is her original. She is a kind of so-called kneading hand, but she realizes a pattern that can not be put out by kneading or inlaying. The line pattern is delicate and clear, and although it is a line, it forms a surface and crosses the inside of the womb. The line is a surface and the surface is a line. And I think that it can abstract the mystery of creation and show unseen uniqueness.

Thank you for your patience.

葎

Aki Katayama

1979 Born in Hiroshima

2002 Graduated from Kyoto City University of Arts, Department of Ceramics

2004 Solo Exhibition, Kyoto Takashimaya Arts and Crafts Salon (Kyoto)

2006 Solo exhibition, container shop BON.II (Kyoto)

2007 Solo exhibition Savoir Vivre (Tokyo)

2008 Solo Exhibition Savoir Vivre (Tokyo)

2009 Solo Exhibition / Gallery Utsuwakan (Kyoto)

2008 26th Asahi Contemporary Craft Exhibition Jury Encouragement Award