Hello.
I make glass in Otaru, Hokkaido.
My name is Yukie Kimura.
Today I'm in my work clothes and even brought a blowing rod.
I don't have experience speaking at this kind of place,
so I brought this thinking that holding it might keep me sane somehow.
(Laughter)
I don't know how this will turn out, but please go easy on me.
(Applause)
What I do is called glass blowing.
I melt glass at about 1,200 degrees
and continue to melt that glass for 24 hours.
I roll that glass on the end of this rod,
fold newspaper that is called paper phosphorous,
wet it, place it on the palm of my hand,
and then I mold it into shape.
I'm often asked, "Isn't it hot?"
but my palm isn't hot.
But it is 1,200 degree glass,
so the water in the newspaper will boil at once,
and when it drips on your hand,
it hurts so much that you will throw the newspaper away.
Other than that,
because you can't touch it with your hands,
you use a tool called a metal jack
and a tool called a pincer that looks like a huge tweezer
to pick, pull, and twist it
instead of using your fingers.
During production, I put on something like disco music
and make glass while grooving to the music.
My clothing is generally like this
though today I dressed up a bit.
(Laughter)
I have fun while working.
And if you ask what kind of things I make,
for example, I make pendants with the image of the Otaru sea
or pendants with a locked heart
and also decorative vases with a heart motif
or plates with a lot of colorful, transparent hues,
water glasses,
flower vases,
aroma pots,
sculptures,
and also trophies on request.
Glass is naturally really beautiful even when it's just a simple lump,
so I feel that I must create something even more beautiful.
While creating, I always think
that I want to make the things I touch more beautiful, more enchanting.
I grew up in Osaka and I lived there throughout high school.
The spark that caused me to start glass blowing
was when a former high school teacher took me to a glass factory.
In the middle of the factory, there was a giant boiler
and a roaring fire was burning.
Seeing the workman standing seriously in front of those bright red flames
my first impression was frankly that it was amazing and really cool.
That was where I first handled melted glass,
but it was soft and too hot, and of course I couldn't do anything with it.
But the melted glass I saw then
was quietly emitting this orange light that was so incredibly beautiful,
and I couldn't forget my fascination with it,
so I decided to jump into the world of artisans alone.
Those around me said things like,
"You won't be able to keep that going. You should stop now."
"What are you doing going to such a cold place
when you're sensitive to the cold?"
but no one could stop the dreams burning within my 18-year-old self,
and so I came to Otaru alone.
I'm going to change the subject a bit.
I started Karate in grade school
and became the second best in the country in junior high school.
(Applause)
I hated to lose and always thought that I wanted to become the best.
Honestly, when I started glass blowing
I was young and hadn't seen much of the world
and thought, "Maybe if I do this, I'll be able to become the best?"
but that kind of baseless self-confidence was in tatters immediately after that.
It was fine that I jumped into the world of artisans,
but it was a harsher world than even I had imagined by far.
It got steadily harder,
and despite trying my best, things got tougher every day.
At the time, I didn't even have a cell phone,
and I would go use the public telephone in the snow.
But the numbers on my telephone card were decreasing very quickly,
there weren't any friends nearby that I could talk to,
and I didn't want to whine to my family.
And so I was gradually feeling pretty run down emotionally,
and it kept getting tougher,
but I remember my heart being rescued many times
by the scene of the Otaru sea suddenly coming into view.
Before this, I had never lived so close to the ocean
so I thought, "The ocean is so nice!"
Though I had been trying my best in that kind of environment,
at last I got frustrated.
Two years after jumping into the world of artisans, I quit.
But at that time, I swore in my heart,
"Even if I leave this place, I definitely won't stop glass blowing."
After that, I returned to Osaka
and became engaged in glass blowing at yet another new place.
The world of artisans was a place of watch-and-learn,
but honestly,
even though I was watching hard, I was barely managing my own workload.
But because I would repeat the task of gathering glass up from the furnace
and carry it across day in, day out,
my skills for just that part
was recognized by a senior coworker at the next place I worked in Osaka.
He said, "Just your ability to gather glass is beyond compare."
"There aren't many guys that can handle this kind of soft glass."
"But why can't you make one cup after doing this for two years?"
That caused me to realize anew,
"That's right. I can't even make one cup."
Then that coworker gathered some glass
and came and explained in words everything about how to make a cup.
"At this point, since it's like this, here you cool it like this."
That kind of thing.
As a result, everything I had learned by watching until then
had been like puzzle pieces in my head,
but upon having it taught to me in words
the pieces assembled all at once.
All of a sudden, I became able to understand.
Since then, I've been able to very easily make cups.
This was a very good experience for me.
And after that,
I thought, "If I can do this, I can make anything,"
and I started challenging myself with all kinds of things.
That was the moment where I started to think
that glass blowing was fun for the first time.
Up until then, glass blowing, to me, only meant something stressful.
Then I moved to a place near Yokohama,
I started to build up experience,
and when I was 30, I returned to my husband's hometown Otaru.
I decided to return in order to start my own studio.
The location was chosen,
I imported a melting furnace from the US,
and I was really excited and ready for the opening day,
but on the fifth day of operation, the furnace suddenly broke down.
What?! I was so surprised.
I didn't know what to do.
I had even put our opening day in the newspaper.
What should I do?
Even now, I can't forget the taste of the yakisoba noodle
I ate with my husband while crying.
Despite all of that happening,
we eventually managed to open.
There was support from family, friends, and acquaintances.
After I decided to establish myself
and make a living at this,
I felt that my family's attitude had changed as well.
Especially my father who, when he came from Osaka to Otaru,
made desks and the like for inside the gallery,
with my husband as his number one apprentice.
They also happily made the shelves in the gallery together.
And in addition to my husband becoming my father's number one apprentice,
he also became my exclusive assistant
and has been doing work at the studio alongside me.
My husband hadn't done glass blowing until that point.
And my mother and little sister in Osaka
as well as my husband's mother in Otaru
started helping out with things like side jobs and accounting,
and my self employment becoming a shared family topic
was not something I had expected from the start.
When I started doing glass blowing, I thought that I would try hard alone
and if I built a house from the earning, everyone would be happy,
but my bond with my family has deepened beyond my imagination.
And now it feels like
I have one more reason to continue glassblowing:
"I want to use your product for a proposal.
It is an important moment. Can you help me?"
The visitor from far away that says, "I look forward to it every year."
"Looking at you makes me imagine what my daughter,
who became handicapped at a young age,
would be like if she were well."
The grandmother that said,
"I'm rooting for you," along with a strong handshake.
And all the letters I receive.
At some point, through glass blowing
I started witnessing people's lives.
And witnessing people's lives, honestly, is not always pleasant.
Just last year this happened.
Mrs. Murakami from Kushiro.
It was just around the time we opened the gallery.
Even when we were open, no one would come.
At that time, she came and said,
"I saw you in a magazine and thought your gallery was lovely, so I came."
"When I see your red, it makes me happy,"
she would say.
Mrs. Murakami had been struggling with cancer for a long time.
"To be honest, there are a lot of hard times.
But when I put on your accessories and go to the hospital
it's like an outing and it lifts my spirits,"
she said.
Every year the cherry blossoms in Hokkaido come into full bloom.
At the height of the season, she visited the gallery with her husband.
Last spring, she didn't come, so wondering what could have happened,
I gave her a call.
She had already passed away.
I was so sad that tears started to fall.
I even thought
that if not for glass blowing, I wouldn't have experienced this sadness.
But I don't think I will forget Mrs. Murakami's kindness
for the rest of my life.
I want to face all of the joy and all of the sorrow.
That's how I feel about what happened.
I think it's okay to change
my reason for making things, my reason for continuing to create,
and what I choose to make.
And I think it might just be something that continues to change.
I'm often asked what I want to make in the future,
but I am always at a loss over an answer
because I feel that I surely won't know what I want to make in the future
until I'm in the future.
I believe that the accumulation of things I'm making now
and things I am working on will change my future self.
I want to continue to challenge myself to make a future I look forward to.
When I started glass blowing,
my foolhardy reasoning was that I wanted to become the best.
Then after my setback, I continued out of stubbornness.
There were times where I continued
because I was excited to learn the art of glass blowing.
Since acquiring those skills,
I feel like I'm always thinking about what kind of expression I should try next.
In the future, my reason for glass blowing will continue to change.
But when I thought in the beginning,
"I want to do glass blowing!"
"This is it!"
those sparkling emotions,
I want to at least keep believing in them.
So I am sticking with glass blowing.
Someday I want to build a studio in a place where you can see the ocean.
I want to continue to make more and more works of art
that touch people's hearts.
That is my dream now.
Thank you very much.
(Applause)