Remembering Toshiko Takaezu: Artist Kaili Chun on the influential artist | Honolulu Museum of Art To the cookie settings To the main content To the footer Interview Mon Feb 9 2026 Remembering Toshiko Takaezu: Artist Kaili Chun remembers the influential artist Artist, educator, and HoMA Trustee Kaili Chun arrived at Princeton University as a freshman in 1980 with some information her resourceful mother had secured—an artist from Hawai‘i was teaching ceramics at the storied university. Taking the class might be a grounding respite from Chun’s rigorous schedule as a pre-med and engineering student. The artist was Toshiko Takaezu. And meeting her would change Chun’s life. To take Takaezu’s class, students had sit through an interview with the artist. “I was shocked at the number of people lined up in the hall waiting to talk to her,” recalls Chun. “Then she came in with her apprentice and walked into the room. She had a presence walking down the hallway—she had this dignity and elegance about her yet was also a little bit reserved.” Chun awaited her turn and sat down in front of Takaezu’s desk. The artist asked the prospective student her name, and why she wanted to take her class. “Obviously she knew I was from Hawai‘i, and I said, ‘Because my mom told me.’ So she let me in the class, and it was very kind of her to do so.” Takaezu as teacher At the time, Princeton didn’t have an official art program. Takaezu’s class was an elective, and Kaili took it twice. Her introduction to art from a world-renowned, pioneering artist was akin to a parent throwing their child into a pool to learn how to swim. “Her style of teaching was old school,” says Kaili. “She would just say, ‘Oh, this is good. That’s not good. Not as good.’ And that’s it! That was the critique. Sometimes she would say ... ‘Nice form. I think this should go into the student show and it should be placed this way.’ That was helpful and encouraging.” Chun also remembers Takaezu’s class demonstrations. “She would put her hands on my hands for throwing,” she says. “And she would introduce the class with an interesting exercise—she would put a ring of clay all around a huge table. And everybody would start to work on a part of the ring. After 10 minutes she would have us get up, walk around, and stop, then work on a section started by someone else.” For Chun, the exercise was a great lesson in not being overly precious about one’s creations. “It taught us to not value our work so much—important, especially at the beginning level, when the work is not that great,” she laughs. Capturing the breath of things While the classroom gave Chun her first taste of ceramics, getting to know Takaezu outside of the classroom—they developed a friendship that lasted until Takaezu’s death in 2011—was just as much of an education. Takaezu is famous for her lovingly tended vegetable garden and the feasts she would cook from her harvest. Chun thinks Takaezu’s success and confidence navigating the art world is a direct result of this connectedness to earth and practice. “It came from something very special. That's all I can think of to describe that. I think it’s embedded in the way that she lived,” says Chun. “Her life was rooted in discipline, humility, and spiritual awareness. She also saw so much joy in simple things we take for granted. Like the importance of the vegetable, the beauty of it. The beauty of the bean pod—having a basket full of beautiful beans that she grew. And they were delicious, too. There was always this sparkle in her eye. When we unloaded the kiln at Princeton, she would say, ‘Oh, look at this! And we would all feel her joy in bringing something out that was special.” Takaezu is widely recognized for references to nature in her work, and Chun saw this deep relationship firsthand, citing how Takaezu was aware of the spirit of living things, whether it was a stone, tree, or leaf. “I thought that she was connected to ‘āina wherever she was, the ‘āina of Quakertown, New Jersey, and the ‘āina here. The way she glazed, just the ephemerality of landscape, of seascape, of skyscape—she was able to capture that breath, the living part of all of these things. When I paddle out in the ocean, I see what she has captured on canvas, on her pots, on her plates. She had a confidence about what she was doing and she knew what she was doing was important.” Chun frankly says she may not have found her path to art had she not met Takaezu. After earning a BA in architecture, she eventually started in the MFA program at the University of Hawai‘i, with a reference from Takaezu, and feels her influence to this day. She remembers first seeing Takaezu’s ceramic trees that were inspired by the Devastation Trail on Hawai‘i Island. They sprouted from a large square of gravel in the Advertiser Building gallery. “That’s when I became aware that she’s not only creating pieces, but entire environments,” says Chun. “My consideration of space is definitely connected to Toshiko. She looked at a space and was able to craft an environment that spoke to emotion and presence as a living being. I feel her works were living beings as well. So even though she is no longer here, she’s certainly here in her work and I’m so grateful to her and for the recognition she is now receiving.” More than 40 years after her auspicious interview with Takaezu, Chun is an internationally recognized artist whose work was included in the 2025 Sharjah Biennial. Like Takaezu, she guides future generations as the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa’s first assistant professor of Kanaka Maoli/Native Hawaiian visual art. Kaili Chun (center) as a college student with Toshiko Takaezu and her father Dr. Michael Chun. Outtakes: More memories from Kaili Chun about Toshiko Takaezu Why is Takaezu important? KC: She expanded the language of clay. I think she took it way beyond craft, but she was so content with being in craft as well, content to call herself a potter. There’s a humility there when you work with the earth and you appreciate the earth as much as she did in all phases. She was so grateful because the earth is feeding us. It’s so ‘āina, right? That which feeds. And she literally grew her food and ate her food and it nourished her. And the clay. She was connected, really connected. Most people are not. Because she's working with it, she knows it from wet clay through the greenware stage, through bisque firing, through glazing, all of it. So she sees it through its entire life cycle and then she’s eating from it! And she made large and small and everything in between. For me, my favorites are the big stuff,—moon pots in the hammocks, Gaea , Star Series, all of that. She opened the doors for all of us—for women, Asian Americans, Hawai‘i-based artists—to be taken seriously, because this is where she came from. And I think her legacy endures not just in museums, galleries, et cetera, but in the way artists today work with clay as a medium of reflection. And not only clay, in all mediums. Even though I don’t necessarily work in clay, she totally is still present in the work and in the approach to the work and the meaning of the work, the environment that is created. So yeah, that’s why we should value Toshiko. Her pots are living things KC: She centered the invisible and the intuitive. She was very intuitive. That's what I saw. She knows exactly what she wants when she sees it. When she walks into a space, she absorbs the space, and then she's able to, like, this is where this should go. She often said the space within the pot is as important as the form itself. And so, yes, I really believe that, because there’s the life within that exists in all of her pots. And I say this all the time too. One time in New Jersey I was in her adjacent house where she kept all her pots—big, small, everything. And I blew into one of the little spouts of a big one, and blow, blow, blow, blow, blow. Then when I lifted my lips off the piece, it came back. I thought, “Oh my god. It’s living! That’s the breath of this pot.” And that’s what made me understand the importance of the interior space of everything that she made. And it was an incredible experience. It was mind opening. And then I really, truly understood these were beings, and that they had breath, they had hope. So she teaches us to value stillness, to recognize that; what is unseen, the interior, the silence, the spirit. That can be the most profound part of her pieces, I think, which is the inside part. And then the amount of influence that she had in the care that she had, to nurture and cultivate all of us. Incredible. Students, people around her, people in the art field, people in galleries, people in museums, curators, collectors, apprentices—whoever. She really cared for you, for the person. Top banner Toshiko Takaezu with works later combined in the Star Series (c. 1994–2001), including (from left to right) Sahu, Nommo, Emme Ya, Unas, and Po Tolo (Dark Companion) , 1998. Photo: Tom Grotta. Courtesy of browngrotta arts. © Family of Toshiko Takaezu Suggested stories Film Q+A: Co-directors Kimiko Lawrence-Matsuda and Megan Trufant Tillman For the first time, HoMA Theater Manager and Programmer Sarah Fang put out an open call for this year’s Honolulu African American Film Festival. From the submissions she put together a great program o… Interview Mari Matsuda: I try to make art that gives us hope and energy Explore artist Mari Matsuda’s activist art, from Hawai‘i’s historic protests to her creative journey, legacy, and message of hope for future generations. Interview Aloha ‘oe: Parting words from Halona Norton-Westbrook May 16 is Halona Norton-Westbrook’s last day as director and CEO of the Honolulu Museum of Art, before she and her husband Jim Tucker and daughter Minerva move to Fort Worth, where she will assume the… Interview We have received your application. We will contact you when tickets become available. Something went wrong. Please call to be put on the waiting list. Added: To wishlist