A Personal meeting with the Ceramics Artist Yukiharu Furuno 古野幸治 in Osaka, Japan

A Personal meeting with the Ceramics Artist Yukiharu Furuno in Osaka, Japan

The Soul of Blue in Ceramics

During my time in Osaka, I had the privilege of meeting Yukiharu Furuno, a ceramic artist whose work has touched me in ways I didn’t expect. Furuno’s ceramics are known for their extraordinary blue glazes, each shade of blue carrying its own deep meaning, personal history, and spiritual resonance. But as I sat down with him, I quickly realized that his work is not just about color—it’s about life, loss, and connection.

Furuno’s story is as remarkable as his art. Despite studying business administration in university, he felt a pull towards ceramics right after graduation. He told me that as soon as he finished school, he decided to follow his passion for clay, setting aside a more conventional career to dedicate himself fully to the medium. He spent the next 40 years experimenting with ash glazes, a journey that seemed to be defined by a search for the perfect balance of color, texture, and emotion.

But then, something happened that would forever change his approach to his art. About 20 years ago, Furuno’s wife unexpectedly passed away, and it was this profound loss that shifted his creative path. Furuno shared with me how, in the aftermath of her passing, he started developing his signature blue glazes—not just as an aesthetic choice, but as a way to connect with her, in a place beyond the physical world. He described the blue as something that resonates with the heavens, where his wife now resides, as well as with the abyss, the sky, and the endless depths of the galaxy. As he spoke, I could feel how deeply personal these colors are to him—they are not just glazes but a language of memory, love, and the vastness of life itself.

I stood in front of one of his pieces, drawn in by its depth, its quiet beauty, and the way the blue seemed to shimmer and change in the light. I could feel that it wasn’t just a visual experience but a spiritual one. Furuno explained to me that, for him, colors are infinite. Every shade of blue has its own personality, its own energy. There’s a calmness to his work, but also a depth that feels endless, like an ocean or the night sky. It’s the kind of art that invites you to stop, breathe, and just be.

One of the most humbling moments during our meeting was when Furuno told me that his work was selected as a gift from the Emperor and Empress of Japan to the President and First Lady of the United States—a significant honor, marking the first state visit of the Reiwa era. Furuno spoke of this moment with a quiet gratitude, but what really stood out to me was how he described his art as transcending borders. The blues that he creates, he believes, speak to a universal beauty that isn’t confined to any one culture or nation. Standing in front of his work, I could sense that his ceramics were something much bigger than the sum of their parts—they were a part of something timeless, something that touched both the personal and the universal.

Furuno’s dedication to his craft is not just about creating beautiful pieces—it’s about sharing that depth of feeling and thought with others. In addition to his work, he runs a ceramic school in multiple cities in the Kansai area, passing on his knowledge and passion to a new generation of artists. He’s also the Vice President of the Osaka Art Crafts Association, helping to shape the future of ceramics in his community.

What struck me most about Furuno, beyond his artistry, was his humility and sincerity. Despite his international recognition and the prestigious awards he’s won (including for his Royal Blue series), he doesn’t wear his success like a badge. Instead, he speaks with quiet reverence about his craft and the people it connects him to. His work isn’t just for the sake of recognition—it’s a deeply personal exploration of life, loss, and connection.

As I left our meeting, I found myself reflecting on the profound impact of our conversation. Furuno’s ceramics are more than just beautiful objects—they’re a window into his soul, a way for him to continue his bond with his late wife, and a meditation on the infinite possibilities of color, emotion, and existence. His blues are not just colors; they’re an invitation to pause and reflect, to dive deep into the stillness of the sky, the ocean, and the very depths of the earth.

Meeting Furuno was a reminder of how art can carry us through both the quiet moments and the profound losses of life. If you ever have the chance to experience his work, I highly recommend it. His blues will stay with you long after you’ve left.