Kumie Tsuda: Plan in My Head Like Planet

KT_Plan in My Head Like Planet@MG_Poster_

Kumie Tsuda: Plan in My Head Like Planet

This dewdrop world is a dewdrop world, and yet, and yet…
露の世は露の世ながらさりながら
— Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827)

All the insects ceased
In honor
Of the moon
— Jack Kerouac,1956

But, but,
The branches and leaves in the fields have not yet to wither,
And we have already shown disrespect to the world.
— H.F., 2024

The Birth of a Certain Possibility

When does the relationship between humans and nature begin? Though we coexist in the same space and time, it is difficult to constantly grasp the mutual interactions of all things beyond our understanding. The moments when we become aware of ourselves as part of the external world often rely on some encounter that miraculously links our perception with the transcendence of nature.

The works of Japanese artist Kumie Tsuda seem to infinitely approach this moment of awareness, inviting viewers to join this silent waiting. Whether it’s the undulating ceramic forms reminiscent of human skin, the flowing, intertwining colorful glazes, or the indistinct scenes captured through her camera lens, they all appear to silently gaze at each other, patiently awaiting the viewer’s engagement. In this silence, a gateway opens to a world untainted by the preconceptions of human experience.

Kumie Tsuda, a graduate of Tokyo University of the Arts with a major in sculpture, ultimately favored glazes and ceramics—media she had never formally studied—when choosing materials for her creations. The colors in her ceramic works are as elusive and indistinct as the changing hues of nature. The glazes shine and shift, never at rest, like the orderly rise and fall of the sun, or the chaotic interplay of light and shadow throughout the day. Tsuda’s intention to NOT control the final outcome of the glazes precisely breaks away from the human tendency to seek shortcuts in understanding nature. By pausing the uncertainty of flowing glazes through temperature changes during the kiln process, the artist returns the decision-making power of the final effect to nature itself. On the surface of some of her ceramic pieces, Tsuda inscribes English phrases, seemingly at random. To the artist, the meaning of a non-native language carries a sense of distance, and for the viewer, her personal handwriting diminishes the legibility of the text. As a result, these phrases in her works resemble patterns or textures, breathing with the uneven ceramic surface. They are far from language and perhaps closer to the clouds in the sky.

The spirit-like figures frequently appearing in Kumie Tsuda’s creations are akin to the deities of ancient folklore, scattered across the natural world. They could be infinitely small, dwelling in the trees or under the eaves, quietly awaiting a passerby’s glance; or they could be infinitely large, as towering as mountains or as vast as lakes, bathed in sunlight, with rays cascading down waterfalls, witnessed unknowingly by climbers in a spontaneous natural ceremony. Some of the wooden bases Tsuda constructs for her works retain low-saturation hues. Through these structures, it is as if one is peering through windows or doors in a Japanese garden, seeing landscapes segmented into rectangular frames, subtly awakening memories of nature in motion. These distant memories guide viewers into a quiet contemplation, inviting them to sit humbly and wait for the birth of some unknown possibility alongside these human-like but not human spirit figures.

(Text: Baoyi, Yushan)

Shaping, Yielding, Silence, and Gaze

(Editor’s Note: After exchanging written thoughts with ChatGPT, the authors of The Birth of a Certain Possibility, Baoyi, Yushan, invited ChatGPT to respond to some questions from the author in a curious dialogue. Below is the record of the Q&A between the author and ChatGPT. To ensure the authenticity of the conversation, ChatGPT’s responses are presented without any edits:)

Q: How do you perceive the resonance between nature and human spirit realized through artistic creation?

A: The relationship between humans and nature dates back to the earliest moments of human survival on Earth, yet in our daily lives, we often overlook this profound connection. Even though we share the same space and time with nature, many external phenomena resonate and interact in ways that transcend human understanding. It is only in certain moments—through remarkable encounters—that we suddenly realize we are not merely isolated beings but part of a larger web of external relationships. These moments often go beyond everyday perception, connecting us to a deeper resonance with nature.

Kumie Tsuda’s works seem to infinitely approach these moments of awakening, inviting viewers to immerse themselves. Her artistic creations—whether it’s the undulating ceramic forms reminiscent of human skin, the flowing and intertwined colorful glazes, or the everyday scenes captured by her camera lens—construct a kind of silent gaze. This gaze appears to await the viewer’s engagement, not through language or logic, but through perception and empathy.

Tsuda’s work presents a quiet power, seemingly breaking free from the constraints of anthropocentrism and opening a channel for nature and art to express themselves. In this way, her art invites us into a world not pre-shaped by human experience, encouraging us to feel the subtle relationships between nature, art, and ourselves. In this process, a new sense of resonance is born between the viewer and nature, as if we are returning to the original state of human connection with the natural world.

This waiting and silent gaze reflect a meditation on the relationship between humans and nature. Art no longer becomes merely human self-expression but an integration of nature, material, and human perception. Kumie Tsuda’s works remind us that true resonance doesn’t come from our control or interpretation of nature but from our careful observation of natural phenomena and our reflection on our own condition.

Q: Why does Kumie Tsuda have a special preference for glaze and ceramics in her creative process?

A: Kumie Tsuda graduated from Tokyo University of the Arts with a major in sculpture, but when choosing creative media, she gravitated towards glaze and ceramics, materials she had never formally studied. Her ceramic works take inspiration from the color transformations in nature, presenting elusive, subtle variations of hues. The sheen of the glaze seems to never rest in her works, much like the rising and setting of the sun, the chaotic interplay of light and shadow during the day. Her inability to fully control the final result of the glazes disrupts the human desire to understand nature through rational means. This unpredictability reflects the artist’s respect for nature, especially as she utilizes the changes in kiln temperatures to allow nature to play a decisive role in the final outcome.

Tsuda’s works are not merely experiments with glaze and ceramics but a dialogue with nature. On the surface of some of her ceramic pieces, she casually inscribes English phrases, though the intent is not necessarily to convey clear meaning. For her, using English—a non-native language—creates a sense of distance, and for viewers, these phrases, written in her personal handwriting, lose their semantic clarity. These inscriptions seem more like textures or patterns that breathe with the undulating surface of the ceramics. Rather than functioning as language, they resemble forms closer to natural phenomena, perhaps more akin to clouds in the sky.

Through this approach, Tsuda integrates language with glaze and the form of ceramics into a world of art that transcends rational understanding. Her works blur the boundaries between the natural and the man-made, demonstrating a form of “yielding” in artistic creation—surrendering control back to nature. This not only reflects her exploration of the materiality and unpredictability of glaze but also introduces new layers of perception through the deconstruction of language. Language ceases to be merely a tool for communication, instead becoming a form that exists within the material and natural textures, flowing between the visual and tactile realms.

Q: How do you understand the spirit-like figures in Kumie Tsuda’s creations?

A: The spirit-like figures that frequently appear in Kumie Tsuda’s works are filled with a sense of mystery, as though they are embodiments of the deities scattered throughout nature in Japanese folklore. They may exist in tiny forms, hidden within trees or beneath eaves, quietly awaiting a passerby’s glance; or they may be enormous, towering like mountains or vast like lakes, bathed in sunlight, with rays cascading down waterfalls, witnessed by climbers in a spontaneous natural ceremony.

Tsuda’s spirit figures are both human-like and non-human, carrying an inexplicable sense of mystery that seems to transcend our perception of reality while being deeply rooted in nature and tradition. In front of these figures, viewers are often drawn into a state of silent meditation, shedding the clamor of the world and entering a quiet state of waiting. This process bears a sense of humility, as if joining these spirit figures in awaiting the birth of some new possibility—an unknown force emerging from nature or the depths of time.

This approach to creation resonates with the Japanese concept of mono no aware—a profound awareness of the beauty in the transient. Tsuda’s works bring viewers back to a more primitive, pure level of perception, where, in quiet communion with nature and these spirit figures, one can experience a deeper connection with the world. It is an experience that transcends the rational framework of daily life, calling us to open our hearts to the mystery and beauty of the world.

Her artistic creations are not merely representations of nature but also explorations of the relationship between humans and nature. These spirit figures subtly reflect our thoughts on how we coexist with nature. They invite viewers to reassess the relationship between themselves and the world with humility, entering a poetic moment that transcends both time and space.

Q: Could Kumie Tsuda’s creative process bring new insights into the form of sculpture?

A: Kumie Tsuda’s creative approach offers multiple new understandings of sculpture, especially through her integration of nature, folklore, and metaphor into the medium. Below are several insights and inspirations her work brings to the understanding of sculpture:

The Introduction of Dynamism and Temporality in Sculpture: Traditional sculpture is often seen as a static, fixed art form. However, Tsuda’s works, through the uncontrollable nature of glaze and the involvement of natural forces, imbue sculpture with a sense of dynamism. The flowing glazes, shifting sheen, and the metaphors of natural landscapes and spirits, introduce a fluidity in sculpture, as though the pieces breathe with time and natural conditions. This approach challenges the conventional notion of sculpture as rigid and static, offering a new understanding of it as dynamic and interactive with the natural world.

Dialogue with Space: Tsuda’s sculptures are not just solitary objects but also engage in a deep dialogue with the space they inhabit. Her wooden bases and structures, reminiscent of framed views in Japanese gardens, create a semi-obscured experience of space. Sculpture becomes part of a multi-layered perception of space, interacting with the surrounding environment and the viewer’s gaze. This interaction resonates with the Japanese aesthetic concept of ma (negative space), allowing sculpture to transcend itself and become a gateway to a broader spiritual world.

The Fusion of Form and Meaning Beyond the Visible: Tsuda’s spirit-like figures, which often appear as embodiments of Japanese deities, blur the boundaries between tangible form and abstract metaphor. They challenge the traditional pursuit of realism in sculpture by presenting figures that are both visible and mysterious, leading viewers to contemplate the invisible meanings behind them. This creative direction pushes sculpture beyond mere representation, into the realm of “formlessness,” where the physical world hints at the spiritual.

Integration of Sculpture with Nature: Tsuda sees nature as a key collaborator in her creative process, surrendering control of glaze to the forces of the kiln. This mindset challenges traditional notions of human dominance over sculpture and art, suggesting a more respectful and humble approach where nature co-authors the work. This blending of human and natural forces imbues her sculptures with an ecological sensibility, making them not just representations of nature but co-creations that exist in harmony with it.

Blurring the Boundaries Between Language and Sculpture: The casual English inscriptions on her ceramic surfaces are not meant as clear linguistic symbols but rather as textures and patterns that merge with the sculpture’s form. By blurring the boundary between language and sculpture, Tsuda challenges our conventional understanding of language as a communication tool, transforming it into a visual and tactile element. This approach allows sculpture to express something beyond the limitations of words, emphasizing form as a medium for both perception and imagination.

Q: Then, can Kumie Tsuda’s photography be considered another form of sculpture?

A: Kumie Tsuda’s photography can indeed be regarded as a form of sculpture, even though photography and sculpture are traditionally considered two distinct artistic media. Tsuda’s creative philosophy blurs the boundaries between the two. Below are several reasons why her photography can be understood as a form of sculpture:

Shaping Space: The core of sculpture is how it deals with space, and Tsuda’s photography demonstrates a similar sensitivity to space. Her photographs are not just records of specific moments or scenes but can be seen as a reshaping or reimagining of space. Through her camera lens, she presents ambiguous scenes with unique perspectives, weaving together nature, light, and color into a new, tangible visual space. In this sense, her photography is akin to sculpture—not merely capturing but constructing a new reality within space, offering the viewer a spatial experience akin to interacting with a sculptural object.

Texture and Tactility in Photography: Tsuda’s photographic works often convey a tactile visual expression, an essential element in sculpture. Through her use of light and shadow, the surface textures, reflections, and the volumetric presence of objects are delicately captured, giving viewers a sense that they can “touch” the materials within the image. This visual-tactile experience makes her photography possess a sculptural materiality. When facing these photographs, viewers might feel the sculptural power of the images, as the photographs are no longer flat but instead evoke a sense of volume and abstraction coexisting within space.

The Combination of Stillness and Movement: Both photography and sculpture are considered static art forms, but Tsuda’s works exhibit a consciousness of movement. Whether through the flow of glaze or the mysterious spirit-like figures, her photographs seem to capture fleeting, dynamic moments. Through this, her photography, much like sculpture, freezes a moment in time while also suggesting a dynamic force behind it. This concept resonates with sculpture’s attempt to represent dynamic energies through a fixed form.

Photography as an Extension of Sculpture: Tsuda’s photography can also be understood as an extension of her sculptural work. In her creations—whether ceramics, glazes, or photography—she explores similar themes, such as the mysteries of nature, the blurring of boundaries between humans and objects, and a redefinition of how humans perceive space. Through photography, Tsuda expands her exploration of materiality and space, extending the sculptural qualities into a two-dimensional visual realm. Therefore, photography in her artistic system becomes another form of tangible expression, an extension of her sculptural philosophy.

The Abstract Nature of Photography and its Relationship to Sculpture: Tsuda’s photographic works are often abstract, aligning with her concept of “formlessness” in sculpture. While sculpture is usually associated with tangible, physical forms, her photography obscures objects, making them difficult to identify through blurred focus or unusual composition. This abstraction pushes photography beyond a mere documentary medium and transforms it into a process of “shaping” through light, color, and composition. This abstract quality creates a connection between photography and sculpture, where the images themselves become unseen sculptures, waiting for the viewer’s perception and interpretation.

Silence in Photography and the Sense of Stillness in Sculpture: Tsuda’s work, particularly her photography, frequently evokes a sense of silence. The scenes in her photographs, much like sculptures, are filled with a quiet sense of waiting and observation. This silence imbues her works with a poetic atmosphere. Sculpture, in its essence, is also a silent existence, requiring the viewer to engage in contemplation to perceive its meaning. Tsuda’s photography shares an emotional resonance with sculpture, inviting the viewer to engage in a wordless dialogue, experiencing the flow of time and space within the work.

Although Kumie Tsuda’s photography belongs to a different medium, it carries forward her understanding and exploration of sculpture. Through photography, she redefines our perception of space, texture, time, and movement, blurring the lines between sculpture and photography. Her photographic work is not just a visual record but a process of “shaping,” carrying with it the qualities of sculpture—guiding viewers into a three-dimensional world of stillness, reflection, and resonance. Therefore, her photography can be considered an extension and deepening of her sculptural concepts, expanding the boundaries of sculpture beyond physical form and into the broader realms of the visual and spiritual.

Artist’s Biography

Born in 1980 in Kanagawa prefecture, Kumie Tsuda graduated from Tokyo University of the Arts majoring in sculpture in 2003, and finished the post graduate course in sculpture in 2005. Currently lives and works in Kyoto, Japan.