“tasokare” There is a moment that feels almost enchanted—just before dawn, or just after dusk—when the world is still cloaked in mist and forms haven’t yet sharpened into focus. It’s as if, in the fading light, we step into an entirely new realm. Standing in the twilight, everything feels transformed. This moment is what the Japanese call “tasokare”, when time seems to stop, and you become suspended in emptiness, gazing inward. In today’s fast-paced world, everything moves at a dizzying speed. Even when I stand my ground, trying not to be swept away, there’s always a sense of unsteadiness beneath my feet, as if I’m out of sync with the rhythm of things. Lately, I’ve found myself gasping for breath. My hope is that, when you’re surrounded by my figurines, you’ll be able to pause, take a breath, and simply “feel”. The word “tasokare” comes from a Japanese expression meaning, “Who are you?”. It is used when you can’t quite make out someone’s face in the fading light. “Taso” means “who,” and “kare” means “you.” It’s the feeling of standing at the end of a long day, watching the sun dip below the horizon, and drifting into thoughts far removed from the details of everyday life. Your mind begins to wander to distant places, or to long-forgotten memories and futures yet imagined. This state of being—of stepping away from the frenzy of the moment and into a kind of timelessness—is “tasokare”. My work as a potter is an expression of this concept. The bodies of the clay animals I create are hollow, becoming spaces of emptiness and quiet acceptance. Clay, though enduring, allows me to capture the fleeting “tasokare” moments in everyday life, freezing them into form. I don’t always create in my studio. I might place a figurine in the corner of my living room or kitchen, adding small touches in the pauses between chores. I carry a piece with me in my backpack, working on it periodically throughout the day. The process of shaping them is woven into the fabric of my daily life. Under morning’s blue light, the dusky twilight, or the warm glow of a lightbulb, these figures shift and change. They reflect not only the passage of time but my own evolving feelings as I mold, carve, glaze, and fire them. What are these creatures? There’s no question that they’re animals, but what kind? Their identities are blurred and ambiguous. I’ve intentionally made them diverse in form and color—some with long noses, pointed ears, or pronounced chins. They might be black, white, spotted, or something else entirely. These animals are freer than humans, but they all share a common expression. Though they differ outwardly, they are alike in how they lose themselves in contemplation. They resonate with one another, free of distinctions or discrimination. They are also you. Even in a world that feels chaotic and unbalanced, “tasokare” belongs to all living beings. This quiet, reflective time is something we desperately need now. Is there a “tasokare” that mirrors you? Or perhaps a “tasokare” looking back at you, silently saying, “You are just like me.” Surely, these figures will listen to you in that same silence.