"Ceramics is not meditative for me."

Interview with Jimu Kobayashi

Jimu Kobayashi, born and raised in Düsseldorf, studied industrial design and is a ceramic artist. We met him in his studio in Flingern. In this interview, Jimu explains how his family history influences his artistic work.

At what moments do you see your art influenced by your Japanese side?

For me, this starts with the formal language. I deliberately describe it as rather delicate and restrained, with a minimalist approach. The objects should not push themselves forward too aggressively in the spatial context. I also work rather quietly in terms of color. What this means can be seen, for example, in the works that are painted in simple tones. Here, the loudest element is only added in the last step - a single large brushstroke across the work.

In the past, I deliberately didn't want to be so influenced by Japanese aesthetics in my work because I didn't want to feel like a cliché. I wanted my work to speak for itself. But over time I have learned that this cultural heritage and my artistic expression are not mutually exclusive. I don't think I can or want to switch off this Japanese-influenced aesthetic any more.

How did you come to your art?

When I first came into contact with the craft, I immediately had the feeling that I had a knack for it - but also the necessary zeal. I had clear ideas and was able to create the shapes I wanted with the clay relatively quickly. Which is not to say that the whole thing was easy for me, because what I particularly like about ceramics is that it presents this great aspect of challenge. Anyone who has worked with clay on a wheel, for example, knows how difficult it can be at first to shape the material the way you want to and how frustrating it can be if you don't have the necessary patience. You grow with this process and learn to submit to it. You must not lose sight of your focus. That may sound meditative at first, but it's not for me, at least not in a relaxing sense! In fact, it's more of an inner struggle every time, a problem that I try to solve.

To what extent does your family history play a role in your art?

By deciding a few years ago to embed our family crest in my ceramics, I am also trying to tie in with my cultural roots to a certain extent. The coat of arms can also be seen in action in our family restaurant Naniwa, where the ramen bowls are decorated with the insignia.

A traditional family crest has great historical significance in Japan. You can't choose it either and often have to look relatively far back in your own family history to find out what it looks like or what it means. We were lucky enough to have a fairly traceable family tree. As a result, we know that our ancestors had lived in the Niigata countryside for generations and were a highly respected family in the rice-growing tradition of the time.

Did you never plan to go into the family restaurant business?

I actually worked at Naniwa for a few years alongside my studies in industrial design, both in the kitchen and in service. Of course, the question always came up in our family and in myself as to whether my brother Masao and I would like to take over the family business together at some point. For me personally, however, that would probably be nothing. Working there on the side was a valuable experience for me in the gastronomy sector, but at the same time I also realized what an absolute back-breaking job it is. Our father is a classic workaholic. For the first few years after he took over the store from the previous owner in the early 90s, he mostly spent the night there. He wanted to work even more efficiently and earlier the next day. My father's story is absolutely admirable to me, especially in the context of his life story as a young immigrant from Japan. However, I saw myself in the design and art movement early on.

Cover picture: Düsseldorf Tourismus

This article is funded by REACT-EU.