An Interview with Shu Suzuki -Inspired by Tokuro Kato-
by 森一馬I had been familiar with Shu Suzuki’s work for some time, and there was something about the character of his ceramics that reminded me of Tokuro Kato and caught my attention. Then, one day, I came across a photograph on his social media of a Sekido Shino Chawan with deep crackling in its glaze. I was completely captivated and decided to get in touch.
I had read somewhere about Suzuki’s admiration for Tokuro Kato, but what surprised me when we finally met was the unmistakable reggae vibe he seemed to radiate. In my twenties, I had also been deeply immersed in dub, a genre of reggae music, working with sound processing for bands and DJing reggae. I immediately felt a sense of kinship with him.
When he showed me into his room, I found shelves lined with records.
“Hey, you should have told me sooner!” I blurted out.
Seeing him making pottery in the mountains of Toki, I could not help picturing a Rastaman growing coffee in Jamaica’s Blue Mountains. Suzuki, however, was quick to clarify, “I’m not actually a Rasta.”
With music occasionally entering the conversation, I began by asking how he first encountered ceramics.
“I think I was in the third or fourth grade of elementary school. I can’t remember exactly, but my father bought me a book called Tokuro Kato’s Pottery Lessons, and I became completely absorbed in it.
“At first, it wasn’t so much his work that interested me. I just thought he was a fascinating person. The way he spoke and expressed himself was so distinctive. I thought he was a funny old man.
“As it happened, my elementary school art teacher was also a keen potter, and we even had an electric kiln at school. There was a club called the Creative Arts Club, which was essentially a pottery club. Around the time I became interested in ceramics through that book, the club activities were starting, so I joined.
“I began making all sorts of things, but the club sessions alone weren’t enough for me. I asked my teacher if I could bring in pieces I had made at home, and he said he would fire them for me. So I started making pottery at home as well. I loved seeing the pieces come back after firing. I think I was making things like Yunomi and Chawan.
“We had clay at the club, but there was also a ceramics supplier nearby called Tokyo Maruni Toryo, where I sometimes went to buy materials. There was also a place near Lake Tama where you could dig clay out of the ground, so I would go there and collect it myself.”
I was astonished to hear that an elementary school student had been going out to dig his own clay.
The first piece he wanted to try making, he told me, was inspired by a Black Oribe vessel from the Momoyama period that he had seen in the book.
“I remember thinking, ‘What a great shape.’ I think I tried making something like a Yunomi based on it.
“I had the impression that Shino was extremely difficult. Perhaps reading the book had convinced me that it wasn’t something you could make easily.
“Of course, I couldn’t reproduce what I saw in the book. But I managed to make something that was roughly what I had in mind. Black glazes seemed difficult too, so I sometimes used green Oribe glaze instead.
“My art teacher was incredibly kind to me. Even after I moved on to junior high school, he continued firing the pieces I made at home. He was someone who genuinely loved making things himself. He would let us work freely while making his own pieces alongside us. That was the kind of teacher he was.”
Suzuki continued making pottery through junior high school, but eventually music began to take over his attention.
“At first, I listened to compilations of Western music that my older brother had recorded onto cassette tapes for me. My father also loved music, and once he saw that I was interested, he kept saying, ‘You should listen to this, and this too.’
“Most of it was Black music: soul, reggae, things like that. I think it was hearing Black Uhuru, which my father introduced me to, that first got me interested in reggae.”
From there, our conversation wandered into the kind of obscure territory that only devoted reggae fans would understand.
Augustus Pablo, On-U Sound, Adrian Sherwood—names I had not heard discussed in years came up one after another, and we found ourselves enthusiastically exchanging memories.
“Later, I also listened to hip-hop and R&B. As for playing instruments, I had tried a little guitar, but I really couldn’t play much at all.
“Then, when I was about twenty, an older friend who had been teaching me guitar said, ‘We’re starting a reggae band. Why don’t you play bass?’
“That was how I started playing bass.”
Even during those years, however, pottery was never entirely absent from his mind.
“When I graduated from high school, I actually thought about going into ceramics. I applied to a pottery training school in Mashiko, but I didn’t get in.
“After that, I worked various jobs, including harvesting vegetables in Nagano and taking part in archaeological excavations.
“Eventually, I started doing web design with a friend, but around the time of the global financial crisis, the work dried up. That was when I decided I really should give pottery another try.
“I was in my mid-twenties, and I felt that if I was ever going to do it, it had to be then. So I applied to a ceramics training school in Seto and moved here.”
His decision to study in Seto was also driven by his desire to make Shino and Oribe ware.
“Because of Tokuro Kato’s influence, I had always loved Mino ceramics, so I wanted to work in this region.
“After studying at the training school for a year, I settled in Toki. I continued making pottery while working other jobs and saving money to buy a kiln.
“I built my anagama wood-fired kiln later, after moving to my current location.”
Alongside the records, Suzuki’s room was filled with books on ceramics and art. Among them, the book about Tokuro Kato that he had first read in elementary school remains the one that has influenced him most.
“Most of the books here are just sitting around waiting to be read,” he laughed. “But I like having books about ceramics around me.
“I’ve read many other books by Tokuro Kato since then. His writing is very accessible, and whenever I make a Chawan, I inevitably find myself thinking about him.
“Of course I love his work, but I also find him fascinating as a person. There’s something extraordinary about him. You get the feeling he was no ordinary man.”
I asked Suzuki what it was about Tokuro Kato that appealed to him most.
He thought quietly for about a minute before answering.
“It’s difficult to put into words, but I think perhaps what I love is that rebellious side of him.”
Turning to his current work, we talked about clay and firing techniques while looking at the pieces laid out before us.
“Some of the clay I use is clay I dig myself. I mix some of it into my Shino clay bodies as well.
“Basically, I work with clay from the Mino region, blending different materials to create my own mixtures.
“With Shino, changing the clay can completely transform the character of the finished piece.”
Among his works are Chawan incorporating elements of slipware. The combination of forms associated with Oribe and surfaces reminiscent of the Japanese Mingei folk-craft tradition is particularly interesting.
“These pieces aren’t pulled out of the kiln while hot. I use a technique called cooling reduction.
“The atmosphere is relatively oxidizing for most of the firing, and I introduce reduction toward the end. I also vary the clay depending on the piece.
“I apply a black slip, paint white patterns over it, and then cover the whole surface with an amber glaze.
“The white areas turn slightly yellowish, while the areas with the black slip underneath appear black.
“I became interested in slipware by looking at books featuring old examples. I’ve always liked old things.
“Beyond Mino ceramics, I’m also interested in medieval Japanese pottery, such as Sanage ware. Some of those pieces have wonderfully refined forms. They might not appeal to everyone, though.”
It will be fascinating to see how his interest in these older ceramics, alongside Shino and Oribe, finds expression in the Chawan he creates in the years ahead.
“Ultimately, I love all kinds of ceramics.
“I love Korean ceramics from the Joseon period, as well as unglazed stoneware like Bizen and Shigaraki, and of course Karatsu.
“I want to keep exploring Momoyama ceramics as the foundation of my work, but someday I hope to experiment with many different things.”
The rebellious spirit that Suzuki sees in Tokuro Kato. Those words stayed with me.
Reggae is often associated with sunny, relaxed music from the tropics. Yet at its roots lies something quite different: the spirit of rebel music, born from resistance to oppression and injustice.
Deep, driving basslines, sharp guitar rhythms, and kick drums beating like a heartbeat. Through the powerful militant beat that Suzuki says he loves most, the music gives voice to deeply held beliefs and convictions. To me, that is the true essence of reggae.
I sometimes sense a similar spirit of rebellion in ceramics. I am particularly drawn to artists of the past who stood firmly by what they believed in, regardless of convention or opposition. Perhaps this is also what Suzuki finds so compelling about Tokuro Kato.
The records lining his room, the books on philosophy and society, and his lifelong admiration for Tokuro Kato. Through our conversation, these seemingly separate elements began to connect in my mind.
At the heart of Shu Suzuki’s work, I believe, lies a rebellious spirit—a true rebel mind.
It is a spirit that has been with him since the days when, as an elementary school boy, he first discovered Tokuro Kato. And I came away feeling that it continues to sustain him today, finding its expression in the ceramics he creates.