What Emerges from Continuous Thought
Before creating something, one must first think. Why create it? Why that particular form? Why release it to the world now? For Yoshimitsu Nakasono, creation might be described as clinging to these questions. Instead of succumbing to trends or superficial novelty, he focuses on the inherent essence behind existence. He doesn't rely solely on intuition, nor does he confine himself to pure logic. Through a pendulum-like oscillation between the two, his works gradually take shape.

What struck me during the interview was how every word he spoke bore traces of careful consideration. His works, the market, his own position — he doesn't dismiss any of these easily, but rather examines each over time. This accumulation of quiet thought seems to be connected to his current style and approach.

It wasn't his initial aspiration
The path to pottery, he says, didn't begin with a clear determination. During his student days, amidst various encounters and environmental flows, he found himself, almost unknowingly, building a career out of it. Rather than making a strong decision to "pursue this path," it might be closer to the feeling of naturally arriving at his current position through continuous creation.

Perhaps this is why he also says, "I didn't experience the typical hardships of an apprentice." Because his journey differs from those who study for a long time under a master, undergo an apprenticeship, and then become independent, he constantly had to confirm his own footing. Am I truly suited for this work? Am I making proper progress? What I like and what I'm good at, what I want to do and what I can do. This process of questioning acts like a backbone, supporting his work and giving it depth.

Making good things isn't enough to reach people
"Just making good things doesn't mean they will sell," he says.

His words reflected a calm perspective on creation within reality. No matter how sincerely something is made, it doesn't guarantee it will reach its audience. Just as delicious food doesn't necessarily sell itself, he believes that vessels and artworks also require ingenuity in how they are presented. Therefore, what's needed isn't superficial aesthetic adjustments, but rather discerning the approach to present one's inner thoughts. "While valuing the thought behind the work, it's about gauging the distance from the recipient and creating the work and its surrounding environment," he states, his professional stance unwavering.

The concepts embedded in his works are similar; simply explaining them thoroughly isn't enough. While valuing the idea that viewers can genuinely find them charming and naturally incorporate them into their daily lives, he quietly imbues them with "hidden intentions." This depth also reveals Nakasono's unique aesthetic sensibility.

The habit of thinking becomes the core of creation
Regarding his habit of continuous thinking, he says, "Because I didn't study much, I developed a habit of thinking for myself rather than simply accepting given answers." When he sees something, he first asks, "Why?" Instead of just chasing forms, his consciousness turns to their origins, structures, and the starting points of their ideas.

On the other hand, prefacing with "though there's no definite reason," he mentioned Japanese festivals, temple fairs, and the atmosphere of temple approaches as things that have recently caught his attention. While seemingly composed of disparate elements, they somehow possess balance and an inexplicable coolness. What's there is an un-overly-polished beauty. He says he's strongly drawn to that unique sensation, where sophistication and raw elements coexist on a razor's edge. The fact that he's drawn to it without being able to explain it might itself be an important premonition for his current creative work.

Placing oneself in a place not fully understood
While acknowledging that "continuing to create for a long time is also a talent," he also recognizes that the longer one continues, the more techniques and values solidify, potentially eroding a bit of freedom. That's why he avoids over-relying on technique and knowledge, deliberately experimenting from a slightly different perspective. Before settling into familiar methods, he values leaving unknown spaces for himself. This stance felt like a quiet resistance to continually refresh his work.

Listening to him, I felt that for Nakasono, creation is as much about continuous thinking as it is about moving his hands. Not chasing trends, nor being stubbornly rigid, but constantly searching for his own position in between. This quiet back and forth, I believe, gives his works their unique tension and space. From the accumulation of such inquiries, a form finally emerges.

Nakasono's works, contrary to their approachable pop sensibility, possess a quiet strength unique to those who continually think.