Jōmon 3

Born in Osaka, Kuremoto moved to London in the 1990s to study conceptual art at Central Saint Martins, a departure that marked not only a shift in geography but a temporary severance from the weight of tradition. “In London, I didn’t have to bow. No more rituals, no more ghosts. Just forward, forward, forward. Science had the answers, right?” she reflects. “But facts aren’t wisdom. And wisdom is what keeps you standing when life cracks open.”

Over time—through love, marriage, motherhood, illness, loss, economic collapse, and war—she found herself returning to the myths she once dismissed. The spirits she had cast aside had never truly left; they had simply taken new forms. In a world that often outgrows its folklore, Kuremoto reclaims mythology not as nostalgia, not as superstition, but as an evolving, living language—one that still has urgent work to do.

Her ceramics are not merely objects; they are vessels of meaning, embodiments of survival wisdom passed down through centuries. “My responsibility isn’t to bury the past,” she explains, “but to bring what’s dead back to life. Not as dogma. Not as blind faith. But as something that moves, adapts, and shapes the world ahead. Because if we don’t carry the wisdom of the past, we don’t become free. We become lost.”

For Kuremoto, art is both an offering and an act of resistance—a refusal to let go of the symbols that once guided us. Her talismans, sculpted from the deep well of childhood memory, are meant to anchor us, to remind us of what endures beneath the noise of modern life. “I hope every piece I make helps my sons see the world as a beautiful place,” she says. “My work is my journey to strengthen my soul. And I would like to share that journey with you.”

Now based in London, Kuremoto lives with her family, including Lassie, the resident sausage dog. She is currently building a studio in Lithuania’s Lake District, deep in the forest—a return, perhaps, to the very wilderness where she believes the universe reveals its truest self.

Her ceramics are dreams made tangible—fire, earth, and spirit, shaped into form. And in them, perhaps, lies a quiet invitation: to rediscover the wisdom we were told to forget, to let these old stories breathe again, and to seek, in their echoes, a way forward.