For quite some time, handcrafting has existed as a form of self-expression. Utsuwa, however, was never an art form that could exist on its own, as a vessel cannot fulfill its role without both someone to cook and another to eat. Its final form emerges through connection, not just a one-way interaction.I’ve taken this text as an opportunity to reflect on and reconsider these vessels that exist intimately and in proximity to our everyday lives.

The ideal ratio for tableware is probably somewhere along the lines of half vessel and half food. Instead of filling it with just your own thoughts, you leave half for someone else. The existence of white space allows others to add new thoughts, so you must hold yourself back and avoid creating too much.

Through this practice, I teach myself to exist outside of my own self. Utsuwa (which can also be represented with the character empty) is about emptying yourself. The half emptiness of the vessels creates a lingering feeling that allows me to repeat this craft again and again. This is what makes these utsuwa so interesting.

The time we spend eating meals at the dining table helps to ease the hardships of our days. Even verbal conflicts are resolved when you gather around a table. Delicious flavors transcend reason: it brings altruism (your friends’ joys) and personal benefit (your own joys) together in an embrace. At the end of the day, life is just an amalgamation of subtle everyday moments, and yet humans have found a way to continue it for thousands of years. Blessed be these ordinary days and eternal living.

Japan has long been revered for its ability to create crafts with careful consideration of its users and attention to detail. And yet, when I called about a repair the other day, I was met with an AI-generated response. I can only assume that we are collectively moving towards a world driven by productivity and efficiency that deems human labor a waste. But are we really saying that we have come to terms with the inherent coldness and crudeness that will emerge from such a world? Perhaps this user-centric approach and attention to detail is outdated and inefficient. But the subtle oscillations and noises we experience with our bodies exist at the core of craftsmanship and will be what we makers continue to pursue.

Makers spend their days staring at their own hands. It means that we have a narrower perspective. On the other hand, however, techniques can only be mastered through repetition; so perhaps it’s a necessary practice. In my craft, there’s a practice known as Shu-Ha-Ri (to protect - to break - to leave), in which we learn from the past, remain skeptical of new trends, but also acknowledge that we must leave the status quo. Peeling ourselves away from the familiar comfort of our world and, like a bird, looking at the world from a higher perspective -- this is the perspective that users can provide makers.

To live

To survive

Utsuwas are containers that hold the everyday and the spirit of people.