Days of Trial and Error

Maeta had to manage every step of the creative process alone. Confronting this harsh reality, he devoted himself completely to white porcelain. With no one to turn to for help, his only option was to push forward through trial and error, tackling each unknown as it came. It was a slow process, but by learning from his failures, he solved each problem one by one.

Then one day, he suffered a devastating setback that threatened to wash away all his hard work.

"I think I built up my skills by making one mistake after another. But the hardest blow came about 10 years after I'd set out on my own.

The kiln I use is big enough to hold three months' worth of pieces at once. You can't see inside during the firing, so I always light it with a prayer in my heart.

When the firing is over and it's time to unload, I'm always hoping to find white porcelain of a beauty beyond my imagination. It cools for about three days after I turn off the heat, and I'm so anxious to see the results that I rush to open it first thing in the morning.

And then... I still hate to think about it, but every single piece from those three months of work was cracked. That moment was just soul-crushing."

In that instant, all his hard work had turned to dust. The agony of losing his creations at the final stage is hard to imagine. Maeta confessed that in that moment, before he could even begin to figure out how to prevent the cracks, he had lost all motivation to even try.

A Resolve to Never Fail Again

Today, it might be a distant memory of his youth, but that failure prompted Maeta to re-examine his commitment to white porcelain.

"It was an incredibly painful experience. Three months is a long time. I had even pulled all-nighters to create some of those pieces.

Even so, I never once thought about giving up on white porcelain. It wasn't as if I had another career I wanted to pursue. On the contrary, it made me realize just how much I genuinely love it.

That's when I had a thought. If I was going to dedicate my entire life as a potter to white porcelain, then three months is just a blip on the radar. With that, I resolved to never let the same failure happen again. Looking back, I feel that experiencing such a catastrophic loss of work early in my career was actually a blessing in disguise."

Maeta's love for white porcelain spurred him on. Just as he had dedicated himself to the potter's wheel (rokuro) back in university, he now committed to learning everything there was to know about white porcelain. This incident ignited his pride as a white porcelain artist.

Taking on National Competitions

In his creative process, Maeta has always pursued two main goals. The first is to exhibit his work annually in galleries and other venues. The second is to enter nationwide competitions, putting his skills to the test and seeking public recognition.

These self-imposed goals were deeply rooted in Maeta's personal circumstances and background. Not hailing from a traditional pottery center or a family of ceramicists, he faced a disadvantage. Deep down, he harbored a persistent anxiety about whether he could truly make it as a professional artist. For him, winning awards in competitions was the only tangible way to feel acknowledged by others as a true potter.

A turning point came at the age of 37 when he submitted a piece to the Japan Ceramic Art Exhibition.

“This is the largest ceramic art exhibition in Japan, held only biennially. Nearly all the exhibitors are established, professional artists.

Even getting selected is a challenge, yet I was honored with the Award for Excellence, second only to the Grand Prize. Winning that award was the moment I began to believe that I might actually be able to make a living from ceramics for the rest of my life.”

Maeta compared his situation at the time to a marathon. “In marathon terms, it was like I was at the very back of the pack,” he recalls. “I was so far behind it was quicker to count from the end, and I was even thinking about dropping out.”

Despite his surprise and joy at receiving the Award for Excellence, Maeta remained grounded, taking an objective look at his own approach to white porcelain.

“Looking back, I realize that while I may have lacked technical skill, my passion for creating white porcelain was second to none.

It had been about 15 years since I graduated from university. During that time, I failed countless times and faced so many setbacks that I was on the verge of giving up. Most people would have probably sought advice—it's much quicker to just ask someone what to do.

But I didn't. I painstakingly taught myself the knowledge and techniques required for white porcelain. In hindsight, I think that path was ultimately for the best.”

Had he studied systematically under a master, he would have learned the history and techniques of pottery far more easily. But whether a piece can truly capture the hearts of others is a different question altogether.

Perhaps Maeta's piece won the Award for Excellence because the judges could sense the artist's inner struggle and the profound passion poured into his work.