Betting on Yourself: Finding Strength Through the Journey of Crafting

Could you please introduce yourself?

My name is Roee. I first came to Japan in 2016 and stayed for about a month while traveling. I started out as a skater and graffiti artist. Skating and painting graffiti were my first steps into the creative world. But I soon realized something. I didn’t really enjoy the illegal side of graffiti. What I loved was not the act of painting on the streets, but the letters and the typography itself. It was the same with skateboarding. I loved skating, but what really caught my attention were the board graphics and the shoe designs. I also played guitar back then, but even then I was more interested in how the guitar looked than how good it sounded. Since I was a kid, whatever I did, my attention was always drawn to design. Around the age of 18, I started teaching myself graphic design. Later, I worked as a graphic designer for newspapers and magazines. During that time, I realized that I preferred print over web design. That was when I started learning ceramics , because I wanted to create and touch something three-dimensional. From there, I moved into product design and eventually earned a degree in industrial design. Today, I still do some graphic design work from time to time, but I am especially passionate about furniture, and I have been doing ceramics for more than ten years. What I truly believe is that with curiosity, there is nothing you cannot do. I still live with that curiosity and continue to build my own visual language.

How did you first get into ceramics?

To be honest, I’m not really sure. It’s one of those things where you start without even knowing why. That’s also how I ended up coming to Japan. I didn’t research where to go or make any detailed plans. I just felt like coming, so I came. It was the same with ceramics . At the place where I was working, there was someone whose girlfriend’s mother was a ceramics teacher, and she said, “Why don’t you give it a try?” So I went, and I immediately fell in love with it. Some of my friends told me they had done ceramics when they were kids, but growing up I wasn't exposed to any kinds of creative arts, so I had never touched clay before. It was the first time in my life that I experienced making something with my hands. The first ceramic piece I ever made combined clay with leather. That piece was actually featured in magazines both in Japan and overseas. I was surprised to see something I created being recognized like that. When I worked in graphic design, my name never appeared anywhere, and there was always a sense of anonymity. But with ceramics , I received a response right from my very first work. That recognition made me feel that I could keep building and growing from there.

That’s amazing. How did the magazines reach out to you?

At first, I sent my work to one magazine myself. Then other magazines started contacting me, and it spread from there. In 2018, a big article about me was published on TABI LABO. It all happened quite naturally, almost by coincidence. I didn’t plan anything in advance—I just decided to send my work, and it ended up getting a response.

So it sounds like trying things out is really important to you. Earlier, you mentioned that you taught yourself graphic design. How did you actually learn those skills?

Even though I knew nothing, I started telling everyone, “I’m a graphic designer. I’m good at it.” It took some time, but eventually I was assigned to a department that handled graphic design. On my very first day there, my supervisor told me, “You need to create the layout for the next newspaper issue.” But I had no idea what to do. He looked at my work and said, “You have no clue what you’re doing. Go home, learn how to do it, and come back tomorrow.” That day, I got off the bus and ran all the way home. I sat down at my computer and didn’t leave until morning. I watched every InDesign and Photoshop tutorial I could find on YouTube. The next day, I came back and used what I had just learned. My supervisor showed me examples like the layouts from Blue Note Records and said, “This is what good design looks like.” So I never studied design formally. I’ve always learned by doing. Even now, there are many things I don’t know yet, but I believe that if you keep doing, you’ll keep learning.

That really was a life-or-death “learn it overnight” moment. After going through all that and working at different companies, would you call yourself an artist now?

I think “designer” describes me better. I work with graphic design, furniture, and different materials and objects, so “designer” feels like the most accurate word for what I do. Industrial design usually focuses on functionality, but in my case, I often prioritize concept over function. So I would say I’m somewhere in between a designer and an artist.

I’d love to hear about your daily life. Are you busy these days? Would you say you’re more of a morning person or a night person?

Definitely not a morning person. I still have my job at a company, and my daily rhythm changes depending on the time of year. When I’m preparing for an exhibition, I dedicate all my time and energy to that. There’s always something I want to do or make. But I try not to overwork myself. If you keep creating nonstop, your inspiration eventually runs dry. It’s important for me to go to flea markets, see good exhibitions, or spend time in nature. I sometimes work late at night or on weekends, but what matters most is staying healthy and keeping inspiration in my life. I want my work to hold a sense of happiness. When you’re in a miserable state, you can’t create something good.

Where does your inspiration come from, Roee? Each of your series has its own distinct character.

I always have more ideas than the number of works I’ve actually created. What I lack are time and resources. I don’t really create because I “feel inspired.” I don’t even have my own studio yet. After making furniture, I might move on to ceramics, and then to graphic design, moving across completely different fields. If I did the same thing every day, I’d probably get bored. So yes, I’d love to have a studio someday, one where woodworking, ceramics, leatherwork, and printing all coexist in the same space. For me, inspiration comes from bridging different crafts. I often use traditional methods, but I always try to add my own interpretation. Whether it’s leather, furniture, or ceramics, I start by understanding the proper way each craft is made. In ceramics, for instance, I studied the chemistry behind materials to understand how they behave. I value the mindset of always being a beginner. I try not to act as if I already know everything. It’s important to respect tradition and knowledge, add my own perspective to what I’ve learned, and then branch out from there. I think that’s what has brought me to where I am today. I don’t necessarily expect other designers to like my work. I create for the people who experience it directly, the general public. I want to grow my own branch from the trunk of tradition, shine a new light on what already exists, and share that with people.

You’re very humble.

I do believe that what I create is unique. But at the same time, I don’t want to call myself a master. True mastery takes a very long time. To me, a real master is someone like the Japanese craftspeople who keep refining the same technique throughout their entire life, no matter how old they get.

In your creative journey, you must have faced moments that required big decisions or taking risks. How do you usually make decisions?

I believe designers can’t work alone. You need a trusted community, friends who can give advice, and mentors with experience. And in the end, it all comes down to intuition. There are no fixed rules about what you “should” do. Design is visual, so you can tell whether something feels right or not just by looking at it. When I’m unsure, I leave the work for a while and come back to it the next day. It often looks completely different after some distance. I also keep a notebook in my shower room to jot down ideas that come to me while I’m taking a shower.

That’s a great idea. Now, when in your creative process do you feel the happiest?

It’s the moment I finish a piece. People often say, “trust the process,” but honestly, I don’t trust it at all. During the process, I’m filled with doubt, wondering if it will work, if people will understand it, and how they will react. Especially because my work is more about concept than functionality, it makes me even more uncertain. But the moment it’s finished, I just know it’s good. That instant of clarity tells me it’s complete, and from there, the next work begins.

On the other hand, have you ever felt like quitting?

Many times. Creating work and having to make people understand it can be really hard. If I saw it as just a job, I might think it’s not worth continuing. But for me, this isn’t a job, it’s my life. There’s nothing else I could do, so I can’t quit.

You mentioned that creating is your life itself. What is it that you feel truly passionate about?

Telling stories. Bringing people into my world. I used to think my passion was for form, color, texture, craft, and knowledge. I still love those things, but what really matters to me is connecting with people through my work. A pure artist creates for themselves, while a designer creates for others. I’m somewhere in between. I create within my own world and language, but I want to communicate it and make others feel something. Even with something as ordinary as a chair, it’s not just about beauty. It’s about evoking a feeling. That’s where design and art come together.

Looking back at your past before entering the creative field and where you are now, what do you think has changed the most?

I’ve become happier. It’s not always easy, but there’s no better feeling than betting on yourself. To me, “betting on yourself” means putting all the cards in your own hands. I used to be just a small cog in a big system, doing what I was told. Now I steer my own ship and move through life on my own terms. That has made me feel more alive and stronger.

I love the phrase “betting on yourself.” It might even make a great title for this article. So, my next question is, what does Tokyo mean to you?

Tokyo holds an incredible amount of knowledge and expertise, more than any place I’ve ever been. Whatever you’re interested in, you can always find someone here who has dedicated their entire life to that craft. Shoemaking, graphic design, furniture, ceramics—whatever it is, Tokyo has some of the best people in the world. The city is vast and endlessly layered, and every time you walk through it, you discover something new. I’ve always dreamed of one day showing my work in Tokyo, and now that dream has come true.

Could you tell us more about your exhibition?

Yes. This year, I’ll be showing my work at Design Art Tokyo, an annual design fair. The main venue this year is near Shibuya PARCO. I’ll be exhibiting pieces that combine ceramics and leather. I started working with this combination about ten years ago, though I can’t really explain why—it just came from intuition. The title of my work this time is Kawatsugi, which means “leather repair.” It’s like a leather version of Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken ceramics with gold. I repair broken ceramics using leathercraft techniques. I collaborated with a Japanese ceramics store that gave me pieces damaged during shipping—objects that would have otherwise been thrown away. While I deeply respect the tradition of Kintsugi, I didn’t want to imitate it because I’m not Japanese. Instead, I wanted to add value in my own way. The ceramics themselves aren’t luxury items, but they were made by someone’s hands. Throwing them away just because they’re broken feels sad to me. By repairing them with care and respect, I try to give them a new life.

The respect you put into your work is truly beautiful.

For a long time, every time I came to Tokyo, I was always on the receiving side. I came to be inspired, to learn, and to take things back with me. But this time, for the first time, I feel like I’m on the giving side. It makes me happy to think that I can give something back to the city that has given me so much.

What kind of future are you aiming for? How do you imagine your “far future self”?

From now on, I want to focus more on collaboration. There’s a limit to what I can master on my own, and I believe there are things that can only be achieved through working with others. It’s about finding the right people and the right places—craftspeople, factories, and workshops that align with what I want to create. I don’t plan to map out exactly who I’ll be in ten years. Life never goes according to plan. But I do see the next ten years as a time to give everything I’ve got. To do, to challenge, and to keep moving. Maybe I’ll eventually settle somewhere, or dedicate myself to one particular field. Whatever happens, I’ll keep following what feels truly interesting to me.

Finally, if you could say something to your past self, back when you didn’t yet know which path to take, what would it be?

Whenever I meet students or young creators, I always tell them the same thing: don’t copy what others are doing, do what you want to do. Stop searching for someone else’s recipe for success. Following another person’s path won’t get you anywhere. The only real formula for success is creating with your own voice. Even if the results don’t come right away, if you don’t give up and keep going, you’ll eventually succeed. The moment you lose your voice is the most dangerous one. When you start listening too much to others’ opinions or the idea that “maybe it’ll work better this way,” you begin to drift away from your own path. Believing in yourself is the hardest thing, but also the most important. True success is staying true to what you believe in, all the way to the end.