Discover Nikkei

https://www.discovernikkei.org/en/interviews/clips/876/

The Ritual of Silence and of Forgetfullness (Spanish)

(Spanish) I don’t have music, I have put something aside which I loved, I have completely put it aside. There is no noise, I need absolute silence, it so very much important [to have silence], wouldn’t you agree? And probably, I am forgetting the words. To go to directly to the clay, and what is more, I miss it. The last projects have involved video, audio-visual materials, literature, narration, to sit in front of a computer with an assistant to frame, to publish moments of the work. I would say that there is an important moment where the hands ought to be direct. It was what I wanted to do when I withdraw from philosophy studies. I wanted my hands to talk; they said things simply through this [act] imposed on the material. I need absolute silence; it is very important. I am unable to work and create without a completely peaceful space, of total tranquility. And I believe that there is another important moment in the process, that is, rhythm. Habits, rhythms, techniques, daily routines, to get up early, to mix the clay that becomes like a folded piece of paper, the folding of the origami. For this I only make the crab [as origami] because in reality I don’t want the skills of the origamist; I only need to fold a crab to forget that one is able to make something so complex. What’s more, as much as I fold it, I forget the various steps, it is almost direct; if it doesn’t [come out the first time], and I have to think how to make the fold, it just doesn’t interest me. Therefore, the same thing I try to do with my work, I try to forget the rules of the game, the formulas of my workshop, it should have [the] rules of the ceramist and to know the proportions of ceramics and of [the] clay to mix. It’s like cooking. On the contrary, I would say. I tell my assistants that if we do not know how to produce a clay that resists fire, then those thirty years of work means that we did not learn much. And there is very good proof that it is indeed the fire. I would say that fire gets rid of my ego and [my paternal attachment] [as well as] total control of what happens there. These pieces are produced by hands, by a body, by an idea, by the head, by a person who needs to make something, but the fire completely removes this kind of control, which is so important. Yes, I have always wanted to make something…my ceramics submit to the fire, it is like removing the possibility of completely controlling something.


Date: December 7, 2007

Location: Lima, Peru

Interviewer: Harumi Nako

Contributed by: Asociación Peruano Japonesa (APJ)

Interviewee Bio

Carlos Runcie Tanaka was born in 1958 in Lima, Peru. After studying philosophy he began to practice the art of ceramics. He also studied in Brazil, Italy, and Japan. He participates in group exhibitions both in Peru and abroad, particularly contemporary art exhibits. Tanaka’s work also has been exhibited in museums and private collections in various countries. He has shown his work since 1981 in Latin America, United States, Japan, and Italy. In the last few years he has been a visiting professor in several prestigious universities in the United States and Japan. In addition to his research and exhibits, Tanaka has maintained a ceramics workshop since 1979, employing local products and gas ovens for the firing (1300 C) of his objects, which are utilitarian and functional in nature. In November 2007 he exhibited the work “A Zen Parable and Ten Short Stories” in the Ryoichi Jinnai Gallery at the Japanese-Peruvian Cultural Center during the 35th Annual Japanese Cultural Week. At the same time, in December of 2007, he published his first book, also entitled A Zen Parable and Ten Short Stories, under the auspices of the Japanese Peruvian Association. (December 7, 2007)