Ceramics reflect artist's journey of self-discovery

By Victoria Gail-White
Advertiser Art Reviewer

"Ceramics saved my life," says Yukio Ozaki. His latest exhibit, "Light and Color," focuses on neriage (marbling) and nerikomi (pattern design control) — colored porcelain techniques with which he has been experimenting since the late 1970s. The exhibit also includes stoneware pieces, tea-related work (Ozaki has studied the art of Japanese tea ceremony) and exquisite translucent porcelain lights made with a new clay from Australia. A total of 93 pieces demonstrate his passion for a process which Ozaki credits with changing his life.

In 1971, Ozaki was encouraged to come to the United States from Tokyo because of another passion: theater. The theater professor and good friend who sponsored Ozaki just happened to be taking a hobby ceramics course at the time. Ozaki decided to join him.

Ceramics changed what Ozaki believes was a self-destructive direction his life was taking. "Before, my goal was ego-oriented," he said. "I wanted fame and money. I wasn't happy. No accomplishment is ever good enough if it is ego-based. Through my connection with ceramics, I realized that my weakness stemmed from my avoidance of responsibility."

Who knows what goes on between a man and his clay? But in that self-discovery process, he met his wife (Elizabeth Train, a notable fiber artist) and became the father of two remarkable boys. "I believe God, in a universal sense, gave me ceramics," said Ozaki, "because I wanted to improve myself. My whole value system has changed."

The artist initially was interested in marbling clay to save time and avoid glazing. Ozaki's many years of experimentation with this technique have led him on a path that is in fact, more time-consuming than glazing, but more exciting in that it is closer to a treasure hunt.

The process takes three days of preparation: kneading and softening the porcelain, mixing the batches (13 to 25 pounds each) with various oxides and commercial ceramic stains for the colors and then making stock logs of those colors rolled out into coils. Nine coiled logs of light and dark color values were made for this exhibit.

The logs are then flattened, folded, twisted and rolled together to allow the colors to interact. In some ways, Ozaki said, it is like making Chinese noodles by hand: The more you fold and twist it, the finer the color layers become.

"Some of them are like faceted stones. Every way you turn it, the colors, layers and patterns change," Ozaki said.

The clay is then hand-built into plates, vases, sculptural forms and so on. When these are dry, the surfaces are scraped with stainless steel scrapers and abrasive pads. It is at this stage, Ozaki said, that the patterns reveal themselves and his hands take a beating.

The finished forms are bisque-fired and, when cool, sanded again. The final process involves one more kiln-firing at a higher temperature to vitrify the porcelain.

Ozaki has a master's degree in fine arts from the University of Hawai'i and a teaching certificate from the Ohara school of ikebana (flower-arranging). He has been celebrated as a teacher at Chaminade University, has won awards in art exhibits and his ceramic work has been purchased by the State Foundation for Culture and the Arts. A stoneware piece entitled "Kohemaru" is on display in the "Beyond Craft: Modern Ceramics in Hawaii" exhibit at the Honolulu Academy of Arts.

"I am in the art field," said Ozaki, "because I strongly believe it indicates the value of commitment. Believing in what you do and doing what you enjoy is life-affirming."

John Koga is a commanding presence — both in person and at the "Re-Examine" exhibit at the workspace gallery, where his face appears on eight beeswax sculptures.

"A lot of art I deal with," said Koga, "basically deals with my existence and my environment. I am making fun of myself within our society because I don't want to make fun of others."Ê

The beeswax sculptures are cast from molds made of clay. When asked why Koga chose beeswax he replied, "I always wanted to work in beeswax. I had this opportunity and I took it, and found there was a learning curve involved. But I'd go home tasting honey."

Beeswax — a soft, ivory-colored, translucent medium — smells sweet and gives Koga's analytical concepts a genuine simplicity. They're viewer-friendly.

"Me looking at me looking at me looking at you," a piece with numerous heads popping out of an armless pear-shaped body, appears extraterrestrial.

"The final comment is that I am actually looking at you through me," said Koga. "I poked fun at the funky me — in terms of the big body — yet there is something deeper within it."

"Purging" is one of Koga's favorite pieces. In this sculpture, all of the images he collected of himself have been vomited out. And remarkably, they all really look like Koga. But then, all the sculptures do.

In "Oblivious to Myself," a face of Koga is drowning in a body of water while another face is looking on from above. "Foot in Mouth" and "Reflecting Pool" are self-explanatory.

These sculptures are a zeitgeist. Yes, they are irreverent, as in "A Side of Me I Never See," but they also symbolize serious introspection.

If sculpting beeswax seems amazing to you, then imagine for a moment painting watercolor portraits on pills — specifically, Seldane and Advil.

There is something Dada-istic about the eight tiny portraits that Sanit Khewhok has titled "Predators" in this show. They're the faces of Osama Bin Laden, Martha Stewart, George W. Bush, John Ashcroft, Dick Cheney, J. Edgar Hoover and others.

In total, 31 pill portraits stare out of test-tube "frames" that emerge from the wall, sit in old glass doorknobs on a shelf, or rise out of the floor on plumbing fixtures and glass piping. Be advised that a magnifying glass may be worth bringing to the exhibit, even though two are provided.

"This show was inspired by an art show that I saw in New York which was more like a science fair," says Khewhok. "It really moved me."

The imagined portraits in the series of "Mr. and Ms. Seldane" and "Mr. and Ms. Advil" are held captive in test tubes. An eerie, secretive-lab quality prevails in these pill portraits.

In the future, will we be able to select a face in such a line-up and take a pill for reproducing or even having that specific face?

Studying art in Thailand and Italy has helped Khewhok develop the skill to render small portraits with a mastery of detail that is almost eccentric. The portraits are identifiable, even on the tiny workspace of a pill.

"The reason I like to work small," says Khewhok, "is because it is hard to make people look at it. Like an ant, it is small, and people just step on it. I feel that small particles are very important and can't be ignored. Science proves that."

Khewhok himself takes allergy and blood-pressure medication. Expired pills that he didn't want to throw away became the canvas for his ideas. He painted the entire series without magnifying glasses. He has remarkable vision and talent.

Today is a free Sunday at the Honolulu Academy of Arts. From now until the end of the year, admission is free on the first Sunday and first Wednesday of every month. The academy opens at 1 p.m.