“Voice Coil Soul” 2025 / clay, sound, sound equipment, video monitor, dimensions variable
June 24 (Tue) – July 27 (Sun), 2025
Opening hours: 11:00-19:00 (last entry 18:45)
Closed: Mondays
＜Exhibition Outline＞
Takumi Hirayama’s solo exhibition, Voice Coil Soul, will be held from Tuesday, June 24 (Tue) to July 27 (Sun), 2025.
For Hirayama, working with clay is both a means of communication between people and a quiet dialogue with himself. Within these exchanges—whether shared or solitary—he senses subtle discoveries and frictions, which he distills into his own unique philosophy. Through this process, he continues to ask: What kind of art is truly essential to our lives?
This exhibition unfolds as a new experiment in “speaking” to clay: a challenge to convey intention through the perspective of the material itself, using tools and methods yet unexplored.
We warmly invite you to experience this evolving dialogue between the artist and the medium, within the space of CREATIVE HUB UENO “es”.
＜Artist’s Statement＞
The people and things that offer support—what is it that supports them? I listen closely to the quiet signals, then scream at the top of my lungs. My voice echoes through the cracks in the earth. I want each sole to ruminate on that sound.
＜Recommender’s Comment＞
Takumi Hirayama liberates clay from its traditional role in modeling and sculpture, instead using it as a communicative tool to engage with people whose backgrounds often resist verbal expression.
In this sense, the earth as a medium has accompanied humanity since the beginning—it is only natural that it would serve as a vessel for connection. I look forward with great anticipation to these new artistic challenges.
— Godai Watanabe
Professor, Department of Art Education, Faculty of Fine Arts, Tokyo University of the Arts
＜Artist＞
© Takumi Hirayama
Takumi Hirayama is a sculptor born in 1994. He completed graduate studies at Tokyo University of the Arts. Using ceramics and clay, he creates and exhibits works in Japan and abroad that explore relationships with others.
＜Past Exhibition＞
2022
“The Echigo-Tsumari Art Triennial 2022” ／Nakago Green Park
2023
「BankART Under 35」／BankART Station
“Eye-Cloud-I” Solo Exhibition／Pacifica Collectives
2024
「SAPPORO PARALLEL MUSEUM」／Sapporo Underground Pedestrian Space
「Character Matrix」／BUG
「Roppongi Art Night 2024」／Roppongi Hills
「At Mt. Hani, where he and his friends worked together」
Solo exhibition / Nishinoshima Town, Oki District, Shimane Prefecture
2025
「Here is good」Solo exhibition / 1-11-6A, Higashi-Kasai Storage Unit
＜Past works＞
“Hanira” 2024 / Clay, iron, palm rope
Clay does not speak for itself—it simply accepts the touch, the moment, and the forms we attempt to shape.
I heard a rumor: in some clay-producing regions of Japan, it may become increasingly difficult to mine clay over the next 10 to 20 years.
Clay, having yielded too much to human ego, may one day disappear.
Jamila, once a human astronaut, was caught up in the struggle for space development and transformed into a flame-resistant monster.
Despite Earth being their home, water—once harmless—became their fatal weakness. In the end, they were defeated by Ultraman and returned to the soil.
What must clay—or Jamila—have felt?
Made of yellowish-red clay, Hanira rises. It stands simply to exist and be affirmed.
I want to speak to Hanira often.
To give it water, and accept it just as it is.
“Monster War Chronicle: Hakai-Oh” 2020 / Clay, my brother’s drawings, conversations with my brother
When we were little, my brother would sometimes gently stroke my cheek with his clay-covered fingertips, smiling softly as he did so. This gesture was something he called “Shuryu.” I was the only one he ever did it to—never anyone else. Afterward, he would always use that same hand to draw pictures or create something out of clay. When I asked him, “Why don’t you do ‘Shuryu’ to anyone else?” , he always gave the same answer, “Because your cheeks are cold.”
The scattered moments of our busy lives quietly connect beneath the surface like continents, eventually revealing the shape of human relationships. Invisible “boundaries” exist there, yet most people don’t seem to know how to truly look at them. Even if we try to communicate with words, expressions of frustration or irritation end up sealing away gentle gestures—like my brother’s “Shuryu”.
As he continues drawing his work “Monster War Chronicle: Hakai-Oh”, I engage in conversation with him just as we did when we were children, and bring the piece to life through sculpture. It’s an attempt to touch the boundary that may have unknowingly formed between us. At the same time, it’s a challenge to give three-dimensional form to his imagined world, allowing others to encounter it from multiple perspectives.
This is not support or collaboration—it’s my own version of “Shuryu”, born naturally from our everyday life.
