[No. 9] Masato Shimotakahara

I can't say I was an outstanding student, so I wasn't confident I could write a "Keio University Alumni Connections" piece that would be of any use to you, the readers. However, I was told that any content would be fine, so I accepted the offer.

On various occasions, I have consciously followed an unorthodox path. Of course, I remain a maverick even now. People who visit my workshop often say, "It must be nice to do what you love." It's not that I started this because I loved it, but I can only mumble, "Well... sort of..." It is painful and difficult to knowingly place yourself in an unconventional position. You have to be prepared to be looked at askance and endure it. However, if you continue long enough, you eventually get the opportunity to write a piece like this. When I think about it that way, being a maverick isn't so bad.

With Professor Nakamura and fellow lab members from my student days

There was a time when I thought about changing my way of life, and pottery just happened to be the job that seemed most likely to resolve various future issues. I chose this work with the thought, "Well, things will work out by the time I die. If I believe in myself and keep going, it'll be fine." All that was left was to entrust myself to the strength of my self-belief. And in that strength alone, I had more confidence than anyone. When I was four, a medical accident involving my one-year-old brother caused a panic in my family. That is my first memory. All my standards of behavior trace back to that moment. Because of that intense memory, my thought process is simple. And because it's simple, there is no hesitation. There were hard times, but looking back now, I realize I learned a lot from it. It has given me the energy to continue on my unorthodox path and the power to have confidence in my own judgment. I have remained a maverick in the world of pottery as well.

As a potter, I entered the field from an unlikely place, having graduated from the Department of Industrial and Systems Engineering. I am sure it must be a good thing to be able to see the world of pottery from a different perspective than those who come from a family of potters, those who are skilled artisans who entered the profession out of a love for pottery, or those who graduated from art high schools and universities. Having no preconceptions or prior knowledge of pottery, I challenged myself in everything—glazes, techniques, wheel-throwing skills, and more. Although I received guidance from the instructors at the Kagoshima Prefectural Institute of Industrial Technology where I was a trainee, my natural disposition led me to take a mostly self-taught approach. The scientific mindset I learned through experiments and report submissions during my time as a Keio student is truly alive in my glaze testing, to which I have dedicated more than half of my life as a potter. Through many failures and wasted efforts, I was able to discover unprecedented glazes that would become my lifelong research theme and create my pottery. There was a long period of trial and error, but perhaps that was for the best. After 25 years in Kagoshima, I finally managed to hold a solo exhibition at the Odakyu Department Store this past May.

I often think these days that people have endless abilities, but most of them remain hidden, untapped, and undiscovered. In my case, if it weren't for the incident with my brother when I was four, I probably would never have even thought of taking up pottery. I knew almost nothing about the world of ceramics. Even so, if you keep at it, things somehow work out. If you persevere without getting discouraged or giving up, what you thought was a one-in-a-million dream can become a one-in-ten-thousand, then one-in-a-thousand dream, and eventually come true.

I have other dreams as well. Dreams for my work, dreams outside of work—I dream of many things. Some are incredibly big. I wonder how many of these dreams I can grasp from now on. It wasn't a dream, but the job of creating a ceramic wall for my high school alma mater also came my way. It was a project for the school's 50th anniversary. I was chosen for the job due to the rarity of being the only professional potter among 10,000 graduates. This happened when I was 50. Indeed, being a maverick isn't so bad.

I am deeply indebted to Professor Nakamura, who kindly accepted a student like me into his lab, lost among the many outstanding students in the Department of Industrial and Systems Engineering, both during my time at the university and after graduation. Thank you for the letter of recommendation for my solo exhibition. (Let me write down a new dream here: I want to create a ceramic wall for my other alma mater, Keio. Professor Anzai, I wonder if you remember me. You were my advisor under the advisor system, and I regret it as a bitter failure that I didn't show a glimpse of my maverick nature and make my presence known to you, had I known that something like this would happen in the future.) Another important thing is the people you meet. I met someone in the world of pottery as well. It's amazing how much your life can be changed by the people you happen to meet. I want to cherish my encounters with people. This has turned into something like a "Recommendation for Mavericks," but I am grateful to the Juku for providing a valuable webpage like this, akin to a featured graduate introduction, even for an alumnus like me who did not have a student life to be proud of.