Dialogue - Shimizu Shiro -

The Shimizu Shiro exhibition was held in midsummer.

The artworks are made 120% from soil dug by the artist himself.

This exhibition also featured many works of open-air burning, giving off a primitive breeze and an air reminiscent of the beginnings of mankind.

Pottery may seem like a simple act, but it has many complex elements and is incredibly diverse and fascinating.

Shiro's works make the space and time deeper and more mellow just by being there.

In the late summer after the beginning of autumn, watch the dialogue as your thoughts turn to the mountains and soil in your garden.

The act of burning earth

So, why is this exhibition mainly focused on open-air burning works?

Shimizu: Mr. Ono (owner of Utsushiki) gave me the theme of "something that scoops water". So I wanted to make something like a vessel that was made when humans wanted to scoop water more easily than with their hands. So I thought the only way to fire it was in the open. There probably weren't even kilns at the time.

I believe you have created many works that involve outdoor burning. What makes you want to do this?

Shimizu: Well, maybe it's because I do open-air firing... I'm simply interested in "firing earth", so I fire in electric kilns, climbing kilns, and anagama kilns, and it's just one of those options. I don't know why I enjoy it so much, but I think it's probably because I haven't done it much.

It seems like more and more potters are starting to do open-air firing. Is this a sign of the times?

Shimizu: I could say something as bold as that it's what the times demand. I think they're sensing and catching the feeling of the times. I don't really want to say that, though. The more science advances and the more IT becomes available, the more humans crave something completely opposite, something primitive. It's like we're living in an age where we're forced to think, "How did we do things in the first place?"

When did you first do open burning, Shiro?

Shimizu: I started doing open burning around the age of 30 when I started digging soil. At the time, I would sometimes get the temperature too high and have explosions. This time, I aimed not to get the temperature too high, so I put the work and firewood in a space covered with soil and a lid to prevent air from getting in. However, at the beginning, the air was not passing through very well, so the temperature did not rise at all, which was a problem (laughs).

I was surprised when I saw the Utsushiki interview video, but even though it was an open-air burning, it was done in a shape that looked like a small kiln.

Shimizu: To begin with, there are many ways to do open-air firing, and there is no rule that says it has to be done this way, so you just have to try things out and make trial and error. This time, we used a kiln-like method, but we felt like, "I want to do something about the heat that rises to the top. The things I want to fire are at the bottom!" It would be a waste to let the heat escape. Last time, we did it without a roof, and I want to try out different stages.

The location of individuality

I heard that you started burning fields and digging soil when you were in your 30s and felt "stuck in a bind." What kind of jam did you feel at the time?

Shimizu: I don't know if it was because I was born into a family of potters or because I didn't have anything else I wanted to do, but I didn't have the option of quitting. I didn't want to quit, but I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if I had any talent. That's when I started to lose confidence.

So you started digging. Did that have any impact on your pottery making?

Shimizu: Yes, there were a lot of them. It was like the digging saved everything, and it was a major turning point.

so!

Shimizu: The first soil I dug up was one that could be used immediately without any work. I was impressed that I could dig it up and use it right away, but I didn't know what it would be like until I tried baking it, so I just tried baking it. I discovered a lot of things when I started baking it, and then I started thinking about what the surrounding soil was like, what about other soils, and there are various ways to bake it, and what would happen if I changed the way I baked the same soil? That was fun, anyway.

Did that feeling never occur to you before?

Shimizu: Well, I do have some. But rather than trying to make use of something, I have an idea of ​​what I want to do or what my goal is, and then I try to do this or that according to that. But when I dig up soil, it's always the soil that comes first, and I think, "What will happen if I use this soil?" "Maybe I should bake it like this?" It's a completely different vector. That was interesting, and it suited me.

It's like leaving yourself to chance and encounters.

Shimizu: That's right. When I think about it, it was a time when the emphasis on "individuality, individuality" was gradually fading. Until then, I had always been driven by an obsession that I had to create something unique. But when I dug up the soil and tried to do something with it, I ended up in a state where my individuality "came out," even though I was not trying to express it in any way.

In particular, Shiro digs up and uses soil from places other than the production area.

Shimizu: Digging in a place where clay is produced and digging in a place where it is not produced are very different things. It may seem natural to dig in soil where it is produced. Clay can be extracted in great quantities in places where it is produced, but that is not the case in other places. You have to find a place where there is not a lot of clay and dig it up. I think it would be impossible to do this without the mindset of "Let's make use of the soil around us somehow."

I got a glimpse of that spirit in the video interview. It was very impressive to see him work on some clay that looked difficult to use, saying, "I want to boast that there is no such thing as unusable clay."

Shimizu: I'd like to do something about it. Basically, this happens because we use soil alone. If we want to make soil easier to use, we can mix it with soil that has other characteristics, but then the characteristics of the soil are halved. In order to know, grasp, and utilize the characteristics, I want to do it without mixing. As for water leakage, if we don't want it to happen, we can mix it with other soil, but then we won't be able to see the original nature of the soil.

About the auction

This time, Utsushiki also tried selling some of its works through an auction (bidding) format without setting prices, but I'm curious about what prompted them to start an auction.

Shimizu: About five years ago, when I went to an exhibition, I would bring in pieces that were scratched and couldn't be displayed as perfect, but had good tanning, and put them under the shelf without putting a price on them. More and more customers would notice them and say, "This is nice." I would say to customers, "It's scratched, leaks water, and is cracked, so I can't put a price on it, so please give me a price," and then the customers would give me a price and take it home.

Wow.

Shimizu: When this phenomenon started to happen and things were getting more and more interesting, there was a time when I was doing a two-person exhibition and I was showing only works that I had collaborated with another ceramic artist. I really didn't know how to price these works that couldn't be classified as either of ours, so I tried an auction system. The reaction of the customers at that time, the way I priced them, the gap between my own reaction and the feeling of a serious competition... I found it interesting.

I feel like it can be difficult

Shimizu: But I think there are more things I learn from them. What I thought was good turns out not to be so, and vice versa. I also get a glimpse into the way each customer thinks and values. And in the end, it all comes down to a zero-sum game in terms of sales. Surprisingly, sales don't fall or rise that much.

Thank you. Lastly, is there anything you would like to create or anything you are interested in in the future?

Shimizu: On the other hand, is there anything you would like to see? (laughs) Like, an exhibition like this.

(laughs). If I may say what I like, I want to see something big! Like chairs or furniture. On a scale that removes the constraints of size. Shiro's works have the appeal of being made of the clay as it is, even before the function or purpose of the vessel, so I want to make use of that.

Shimizu: That's an unexpected angle. There are times when you are restricted by the size of the kiln, but it's true that with open-air firing, you might be able to remove the size restriction.

thank you very much!

Shimizu: Thank you.

After our conversation , last year Shiro completely moved from Kyoto to Shiga, both his home and his workshop. He says that in the workshop that was once used by his grandfather, there are still many traces of his grandfather's work, such as half-finished works and soil left over from digging. His works, which are born in a big flow and influenced by his own body, have a quiet certainty.

Listening to him talk, I wondered if Shiro was actually making something. I couldn't help but wonder about the way he looked like he was supporting the soil.

Interviewer and writer: Noserumi