The teacups, plates, and vases I made were all black, with a comforting, rounded shape.

Around the age of 26 or 27, I longed to be a ceramic artist and attended a pottery class.
I was drawn to the idea of being able to create a vessel from clay with my own hands.

A photo shoot, of course, cannot be accomplished alone. For a magazine, it's a team of nearly ten people: models, actresses, photographers, stylists, editors, writers, and more. For a commercial shoot, add directors, lighting, art, transportation, and technical staff, bringing the total to around 30. Everyone works like a cog in a machine to create a single piece.

While I now find joy in collaborative photo shoots, in my twenties, I was filled with a desire to "do work where I could create freely on my own!" From the outside, pottery seemed to fit my criteria, and the act of creating with my hands felt akin to my work in hair and makeup, which is why I aspired to be a ceramic artist.

Naturally, I attended the pottery class but didn't stick with it, and here I am still working in hair and makeup (though I likely wouldn't have become a ceramic artist even if I had continued). However, that experience wasn't wasted. Through the few pieces I created, I was able to clearly understand what I truly liked. That became a significant discovery for me at the time.

Even though it was an open-ended class, all the pieces I made—teacups, plates, vases—were black and had a comforting, rounded shape. Not ostentatious, but noble, with a sense of presence... with a gentle softness. It wasn't intentional, but I couldn't imagine creating anything else, and everything I made had that impression. Perhaps it was the black color that made the outlines stand out, allowing me to clearly recognize my preferences.

Looking back, it was a time when I was grappling with the question, "What is my individuality as a hair and makeup artist?" Perhaps I was drawn to other professions to escape that. But thanks to that experience, I was able to clearly identify what I loved, and I believe that's why I continue to work in hair and makeup today. You never know what might spark a change or where life might lead. This experience taught me the importance of having the courage to dive into the unknown without hesitation and the flexibility to honestly follow my own desires. The two black vessels I still have serve as a reminder of this.