Scoria

ScoriaKozy kitchens is a ceramist illustrator based in Yamanashi, Japan. She is one half of art duo kozyndan. Kozy and her husband, Dan moved to her home prefecture from Los Angeles to start homestead artist retreat at their 140 year old farm house in the countryside. Her ceramic creatures, Bunny Primitives, are fired in wood fired kilns. Kozy was influenced by ancient Jomon pottery that is found in the area of Japan she resides in. About this collection: I

Kozy kitchens is a ceramist/illustrator based in Yamanashi, Japan. She is one half of art duo kozyndan. Kozy and her husband, Dan moved to her home prefecture from Los Angeles to start homestead/ artist retreat at their 140 year old farm house in the countryside. Her ceramic creatures, Bunny Primitives, are fired in wood-fired kilns. Kozy was influenced by ancient Jomon pottery that is found in the area of Japan she resides in.

About this collection:

I began working with clay in 2011 in Los Angeles, discovering a new creative outlet that sparked a lasting passion. In 2018, while attending residencies in Japan, I was introduced to the art of wood-firing ceramics, an experience that resonated deeply with me. My husband, Dan, and I eventually moved to Japan in 2020, aiming to immerse ourselves in traditional Japanese crafts and establish a homestead farm and artist retreat. Our retreat was centered around a 140-year-old farmhouse in the countryside, where I connected with local ceramicists who had built wood-fired kilns nearby. These artisans, now in their 70s and 80s, were contemplating retirement and even demolishing the kilns they had crafted, but I felt compelled to preserve this enchanting space.

Around the same time, an art book publishing company called Gasbook moved into the former Velbon tripod factory in our neighborhood, transforming it into a vibrant arts complex and residency known as "Gasbon." Other ceramic artists and I took this opportunity to repurpose various gas, electric, and kerosene kilns from retiring ceramists, eventually establishing a ceramics studio at Gasbon. Meanwhile, the wood-firing kilns were set to be passed down to us, and the experienced kiln owners began teaching us how to prepare firewood and maintain the traditional kilns. Each winter, we venture into the mountains to cut red pine with chainsaws, transport the logs back to the kilns, and split them into firewood using log splitters and axes. The process is physically demanding and time-consuming, often requiring wood to cure for up to a year. Reflecting on my life in Los Angeles, I never would have imagined becoming a lumberjack, but this hands-on labor has become an essential part of my practice.

Unlike electric kilns, where ceramics can be fired with the push of a button, wood-fired kilns introduce an element of unpredictability. My sculptures often break during firing, which initially caused disappointment. However, I learned the art of Kintsugi, the Japanese technique of mending broken pottery with lacquer mixed with powdered metal. The lacquer, known as Ureshi, can cause skin irritation similar to poison oak, but it serves as one of the oldest natural adhesives. This approach aligns with the Japanese concept of “mottainai,” a feeling of regret when something goes to waste without fully realizing its potential. Kintsugi allows ceramics to hold memories and sentimental value, transforming breakages into cherished features. Now, instead of feeling discouraged when a sculpture breaks, I look forward to performing “kintsugi surgery,” weaving stories of resilience and healing into my art.

Embracing imperfection has become a philosophy I incorporate into my work and life. I find beauty in uniqueness and view flaws as features that add character. Accepting what I cannot control, I focus on shaping my responses and perceptions. Through my work, I hope to pass down the tradition of wood-firing ceramics and Kintsugi to future generations, keeping these beautiful, meaningful techniques alive and inspiring others to find strength and beauty in imperfection.