KYO (ECHOES) — KEN MIHARA

A small kitten has taken to wandering around my home.

Only a month or two old, it is tiny and endearing.

I began feeding it, and the habit has settled in.

 

When a new series of work begins, an idea comes like a stray cat.

Sudden. Unbidden.

 

The heart stirs, a spark is lit.

One tends it carefully, little by little, keeping the flame alive.

But it is not obedient like a dog.

It is capricious, drifting this way and that, yet always circling near.

 

At last, the cat rounds a street corner and looks back,

urging me onward.

 

“This way,” it seems to say.

 

And there, waiting long and unseen,

stretches the landscape I have long hoped to discover.

 

To lift the cat into my arms is to feel its warmth,

and that warmth melts the heart within.

 

Ken Mihara

 

 

An Ode to Ken Mihara

Pristine forests, rugged ravines, gentle rivers, quiet mountains. Such are the landscapes that artist Ken Mihara (1958- ) witnessed as a child, growing up in the majestic scenery of Izumo in Western Japan. With natural surroundings of great beauty, steeped in the mysticism of ancient Shinto lore, Mihara-san’s solemn stoneware are borne and influenced by deeply idyllic environs. His works are far more than odes to nature, however. They are, above all, a window into the artist’s soul, and are vestiges of self-expression that capture and convey the Ken Mihara of yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

No man can step into the same river twice. Likewise, Mihara-san introduces new forms every three to four years, thereby abandoning entire bodies of work, no matter how popular. Mihara-san’s sculptures must change because he himself has changed, much like the turning of the seasons.

Kigen (Genesis). Kodoh (Pulse). Kei (Mindscape) and Kuon (Aetus). Mihara-san’s “4K’s”, created from 2007 to 2020, mirrored the fluorescence of the artist himself, and serve as clear testament to why over 43 museums have collected his work over these years. Mihara-san’s austere poems in clay have captivated a global audience, propelling the artist to become one of the most sought-after artists in contemporary Japanese ceramics today.

Yet regardless of any phase in his career, each and every Mihara work is immediately recognisable as a Mihara. It is the visceral appeal of his clay flavour, the almost Zen-like serenity that brim from his silhouettes, that are unmistakable for any other artist, and which have not changed throughout the years.

The artist does not sketch, nor does he make maquettes. Rather, Mihara-san allows his hands to “start a conversation with clay”, and it is through this silent dialogue that Mihara-san discovers his heralded forms. He has always preferred the ambiguity, the uncertainty, and more importantly, the unpredictability of the technique that is hand-coiling, and through his powerful hands, Mihara-san not only finds new forms, but his very sense of self.

Mihara-san’s sculptures do not use any glaze, ash, or slip. Instead, each landscape of colour pours from the clay itself through multiple gas-kiln firings of great intensity and length: a bisque-firing followed by two main firings at 1270 degrees Celsius for 40 hours each. But what is most remarkable is Mihara-san’s philosophy regarding the “memories of clay”. The artist believes that any basic clay that one may dig out from the earth holds a distinct and primordial memory of colour. If one fully understands this trait, and knows how to fire it effectively, then that person will be able to “unlock”the memories trapped within clay, and transform that clay into any colour one wishes, simply by the way with which it has been fired. Mihara-san’s bright colours are dictated by flames rich with oxygen, whereas his signature dark blues, grays and purples are the result of oxygen-deprived flames, otherwise known as reduction firing.

Unbelievably, Mihara-san takes absolutely no data at all with his firings, and simply controls his flames on memory alone. The artist says that “data can only lead to predicable outcomes. Instead, I wish to fire something that transcends predictability”. There is an audacity to his words, yet this audacity stems not from arrogance but from a child-like sense of wonder    an innate wish, perhaps, to surprise even himself with the heightened elation that comes with a new discovery every time he opens the door to his kiln.  

Five years have passed since the debut of Mihara-san’s most recent series Sei (Awakening) at A Lighthouse called Kanata in September 2020, which also was the inaugural show that commemorated our move to Nishi-Azabu and the changing of our gallery name from Yufuku to Kanata. Sei’s debut was a great success, and so was his second collection of Sei works in 2021. But as all good things must come to an end, and the same goes for Sei, which witnessed its grand finale and coup de grace at Ken Mihara’s solo exhibition in NY in October 2023. And so another series ends, only to give birth to something new. Behold, the debut of Kyo (Echoes).

The catalogue that you are holding in your hands captures the debut collection of Kyo (Echoes), and it is always a great honour and pleasure of mine to be able to introduce a new body of work by perhaps the most quintessential of Kanata artists, an incredibly gentle and kind soul who has worked together with our gallery for 27 years.  

Brimming with stark silhouettes and emboldened firings, Mihara-san’s latest series is perhaps his most architectural, with interiors that reveal exteriors and visa versa, with large facades curving dynamically, his colour palettes brighter and almost desert-like in comparison to the bluer hues of Sei (Awakening).  The show is a collective tour de force, with 15 new works elegantly evidencing the 67-year-old artist at the height of his powers. We hope you will feel the same, as Ken Mihara writes new songs with fire and clay.

To Mihara-san, the act of creating is much like writing pages of a diary, and each work captures the artist at a very certain time and place. But as we all change with time, it is the same with Mihara-san. A new series of work is only a means to an end, and not the end itself. In this light, if Mihara-san feels that he has nothing left to say with a particular body of work, he will move on. He must move on. And so, he will. God only knows whether this series will be borne again. And such is why the artist continues to captivate.

All of us at Kanata sincerely look forward to welcoming you to Mihara-san’s latest exhibition at A Lighthouse called Kanata, which will also mark the very first and inaugural solo exhibition held at our new Omotesando location. All of us at Kanata hope you will enjoy the show, and at the same time, continue to wish you and the world much peace, happiness, and prosperity.

Wahei Aoyama

Founder

A Lighthouse called Kanata