The Brooklyn Rail

En Iwamura (b. 1988, Kyoto, Japan) would like audiences to see what’s behind the mask, literally and metaphorically, from an objective starting point of his own making. The artist’s solo exhibition Mask, on view at Ross + Kramer Gallery in New York through March 22, 2025, engages the viewer in spatial relationships with inanimate objects come to life by way of fourteen ceramic masks lining the wall at various heights, in addition to ten glazed ceramic works that comprise the artist’s 2024 “Neo Jomon: Stacking Neighbor” series. While the show is a departure from Iwamura’s traditional floor-based sculptures, the works are an assertion of artistic maturity, emerging from a period of personal transformation and global uncertainty. The exhibition’s title is simple, with the word mask evoking the complex cultural and linguistic dynamics at play. As a Japanese artist living and working in the United States, Iwamura moves between languages that fundamentally shape how identity is expressed: English, with its insistence on the use of subjects along the lines of “I” and “you,” and Japanese, which often begins with verbs and leaves subjects unspoken. This duality conveys the central tension at play, or the pull between expression and concealment—the stoicism inherent in each work.

The emotional resonance in Mask builds gradually as the viewer moves through the space. Neo Jomon: Pink Mask (Beret) (2024) quickly intrigues, its soft pink face donning a dark blue beret in a manner that’s equally calm and mysterious. The work’s careful hand building demonstrates Iwamura’s technical mastery with an approachable, almost playful quality. Viewers will note the neutral expression of each mask, a masquerade of sorts, or an expression of the need to hide what one is truly feeling. To that end, the scaled-down “Neo Jomon: Stacking Neighbor” series captures an artist comfortable enough to explore intimacy. These smaller pieces, the majority measuring under 20 inches, came to Iwamura after observing his young son place miniature cars one on top of the other, a milestone worth celebrating. Revisiting these stacked toys, the artist noticed different shapes and color combinations, formal observations echoed in the series. Among the works, Neo Jomon: Stacking Neighbor (2024) stands out with its striking vertical composition. The piece features a diminutive gray crown-like form perched atop a vibrant red cylindrical base, the whole sculpture balancing on a humble wooden pallet; the work embodies the playful experimentation of children’s games while maintaining the silent dignity that characterizes Iwamura’s larger masks. Its modest scale balances the commanding presence, the red form laying the foundation for the more delicate upper element, establishing a dynamic that speaks to the balance between strength and vulnerability, between stability and precariousness.

Texture is inherent in the exhibition’s greater impact, the surfaces shifting between high-gloss glazes and rough, almost fractured details. Neo Jomon: Black Mask (Crack) (2024), with its gold accents and deep fissures, nods toward kintsugi, the Japanese tradition of repairing broken ceramics with gold, but Iwamura doesn’t lean into nostalgia. Instead, his technique suggests both permanence and vulnerability; the tactile quality creates remarkable tension with the masks’ stoicism, suggesting, more broadly, that the warmth of our shared humanity lies beneath composed exteriors. The artist shows that this ambiguity becomes a source of strength, allowing the masks to hold space for the emotions viewers bring to them. The overarching exhibition illustrates this same humanity, with some pieces resting on simple wooden pallets, holding the gallery in a state of flux, somewhere between a formal exhibition space and an intimate artist’s studio.

The timing of the works coincided with the artist’s anticipation of first-time fatherhood, plus the waning days of the COVID-19 pandemic and the Noto Peninsula Earthquake that devastated Iwamura’s college town in Japan. These events influenced both the scale and emotional expression of the works; in the wake of the earthquake, for instance, Iwamura decided to inject more vivid colors into his ceramic works, hoping to inspire displaced audiences with positive energy and renewed hope. Energy is paramount in this way, with the decision to mount the ceramics on walls representing a technical challenge and a philosophical stance. Given the size constraints of the ceramic medium, Iwamura expressed a desire to approach the gallery space from a place of vertical ambition. This focus on height evokes his artistic growth: a willingness to push the bounds of tradition, to honor the medium’s essential qualities, all while thinking about what it means to exist with an emotional mask. With that, the contemplative faces that comprise the works in Mask serve as mirrors, reflecting audiences’ own experiences of hiding and revealing—of being between cultures, between languages, between selves.