As we walked up the tree-lined driveway leading to the Isamu Noguchi Museum on Shikoku Island, my traveling companions were laughing and joking about nothing in particular. "So, we're going to look at a bunch of cut stones..." one of them quipped as we approached the gate.

But as we entered the outdoor courtyard filled with Noguchi works, all jaws suddenly, collectively dropped.

Before us was a massive collection of the works of one of the 20th Century's great sculptors. For the next two hours we wandered the museum grounds in awe, from one masterpiece to the next.

Behind the museum are the works and work- shop Izumi Masatoshi, stone cutter, student, apprentice and, later, collaborator with Noguchi during his years on Shikoku. Now Izumi is considered a master in his own right.

Izumi came from a long line of traditional stonecutters, but by the time he met Noguchi in the mid-1960's, he had already moved away from the tombstone-and-stone-lantern trade and into contemporary sculpture.

Stone art did not gain popularity in Japan until approximately 50 years ago, when modern architecture began to develop. Noguchi and Izumi were instrumental in introducing, developing and popularizing this art, and their collective energy manifested itself not only in Japan, but throughout the world. It was a collaboration between a remarkable artist and a stone mason with instinctive knowledge of stone and its potential. American-born and raised, Noguchi came from a new culture and looked to traditional Japan for inspiration, while Izumi came out of an age-old stone cutting tradition and took inspiration from the modern world through Noguchi.

Their first collaborative work was Black Sun (1969) a mammoth piece commissioned by the city of Seattle, and they worked together until the master's death in 1988. Izumi then finished the works in progress and began his own works.

Now, his work is known for its rough-hewn style that evokes the natural beauty within the stone. Such is his commitment to natural stonework that despite advances in stone cutting technology, he has always worked with traditional cutting and setting methods.

I had seen some of their collaborative works at the Sogetsu Kaikan Ikebana School in Tokyo and the Japanese American Cultural and Community Center in Los Angeles. I had also seen a few of Izumi's post-Noguchi works around Tokyo: the Contemporary Art Museum, Opera City and the roof garden of the Canadian Embassy. The style has an even greater simplicity than that of his mentor, if that's possible. I know a man has touched them, but they seem much closer to nature.

And here I was, standing amidst so many of his works.

I looked up and saw Izumi-san walking towards me, a soft-spoken man with silver hair and the eyes of a Buddhist priest...

Steve Beimel: What a momentous opportunity it must have been for you, a very young man at the time, to work with such a visionary artist!

Izumi Masatoshi: I worked closely with him for so many years, but in no way could I ever compare myself to such a great artist. It was an enormous pleasure to work with him, to be motivated and inspired by this man, even if Noguchi Sensei's thoughts about stone were sometimes quite different from mine.

SB: How so?

IM: I have always thought of stone as being heavy. Noguchi-sensei, however, thought of it as being light. He looked at stone as being part of the universe.

SB: When I look at a piece of your work, there is no urge to try to find a meaning or symbolism. Instead, I immediately feel something very direct and intense, as if the stone were talking to me directly.

IM: I am pleased to hear that. Most people consider stone as the origin of all living things, yet they don't speak, move or make a sound. I don't think I ever intentionally decided to try to communicate through stone, but as the son of four generations of stone masons, I have always felt very natural around it.

SB: When I see a work of stone art, I feel as if the piece and I don't exist separately. I feel a very strong tie to it, as if I were seeing myself in the mirror.

IM: Yes. When I behold a stone, it looks so strong and wonderful, almost un-approachable. But when I feel weak, my own weakness is reflected back to me. I agree that we see our own reflections in the stone. (I reworded it.)

SB: To me your work is particularly honest and unaffected. For example, when I visit Japanese temples I see the many shapes of tsukubai (stone water basins), most of them look like someone has created them. But yours look natural, as if they grew in the setting. Koji Takahashi of Nihon University says of your work, "Rather than giving form to stone, Izumi listens to the voice that emerges from the stone. He seems to be searching for the primal source of art, the source of all human action, in the life of the stone." *****

IM: Japanese art in the past was more like high-level craft, from which you could sense the artist's effort and sweat. Personally, I try to allow the natural beauty already present in the piece to be present, and conceal my own thoughts and technique. It is my way of giving an offering to nature.

I worked in mountain quarries beginning at age 15, and I would often see stones packed tightly together, like human teeth. Now I feel that in removing stones I was destroying something important, and I wish that I could, even just once, return to the mountain some stones which had been removed.

In nature, stones are altered by rain, sea and sunlight. Since early childhood I was taught the various techniques for handling stones, but in an ideal world I think the best way would be without any tools at all, but by gently touching them. So I use tools and techniques sparingly, with a sense of hesitation and regret for having disturbed such a precious thing which has been "living" for billions of years.

But when I drill a hole into a stone, in the moment it splits, I see something which no human being has ever seen. It's as if I see an aspect of myself in the stone.

SB: My impression of your work is that you are not trying to change the stone, but are, in a sense, opening a window to it, increasing our ability to experience it in all of its dignity. By polishing, by splitting, by altering it only slightly, you make it much more available to people.

IM: Man is so different from stone: always chatting, twisting, and moving. When people approach my work, I want them to experience the contrast between the stone and themselves. Though modern people seem to value more the brilliance of diamonds and stones that sparkle, I believe that beneath it all, they are really seeking something deeper, more subtle and profound.

SB: That reminds me a quote of yours in the catalog to your show [Izumi Masatoshi: Stone Works, Sapporo, 2000]: "The more you polish a stone, the weaker it gets. The more you knock on it, the more it becomes a nonstone existence."

IM: Yes, a work of art is created only when an artist can express his individual character. But if you design a stone sculpture with too much individuality, I think it loses its essence as the stone.

SB: Do you see stone as a kind of tool to bring people closer to who they really are?

IM: Yes. Traditionally, Japanese people appreciated the natural beauty in stones and even treated them with a kind of reverence. At one point, this attitude seemed to be fading among young people, and I began to worry about the future.

However, in working with Noguchi-sensei, I saw that many Westerners are beginning to understand stone, so I am hopeful that the future of stone art is going in the right direction.

SB: You are working on a special job in California now?

IM: I was commissioned to design a work of stone art in Carmel, in the garden of a house designed by Green & Green in the 1920's. When I visited, I was struck by the wonderful relationship among the water (Pacific Ocean), rocks and sun, and I felt "this is the universe itself."

At first, I thought of putting a Japanese garden there, but I haven't had enough experience designing Japanese gardens, so I was relieved when I was asked create a particular stone work which I had wanted to do for a while. Usually, though, I do not think of placing stone art in such beautiful natural settings. I prefer areas which people are using daily, such as a living space or street corner.

SB: We are moved by beautiful works of art. Flower arrangement lasts only for 3-4 days, but as measured against eternity, even the lifetime of a stone sculpture is like nothing. In same way, the artwork now being created will return to its origin, natural stone. However, someday, anything made by the human hand will eventually disappear.

IM: I believe that's a very beautiful thing.

SB: Thank you for all of the works which I have enjoyed for many years, and I hope they last for a long time.

IM: Thank you very much for coming. I wish that there were more time in life to sit beside a stone. For me, it is calming spiritually and physically to sit beside a stone, without saying or thinking anything.