●We’re currently in the main space of the multi-complex space, ’Keshiki’, and there’s a huge number of exhibits on display. I’m curious to look at all the objects on display, but before we do that, could you tell us how you became involved in this project?
It all started when I was approached by the team at “Somewhere in Tokyo”, who are also involved in this project. One of their team members visited “Essential Store” when they were in Osaka, and they were so impressed that they later attended the silent auction we held at “M.A.G.M.A. Gallery” in Shinagawa—and things kind of moved forward from there.
However, I initially thought of declining the offer. Partly because I didn’t have much energy at the time, but also because I hadn’t been able to go to the U.S. to buy anything since Corona. Also, during that time, I had been busy with space design and styling, and so my antique collecting had been somewhat lacking.

●What changed your mind and led you to get involved in the project?
Actually, it all started by chance when I began to gain interest in fiber art. When I heard that the leading figures of fiber art in Japan, Tetsuo Kusama and Kyoko Kumai, were going to hold an exhibition in Kyoto, I asked one of our younger staff members, who was studying fiber art at the time, to go to the exhibition and lecture. I had bought a collection of Kusama’s works at a used bookstore 20 years ago, so I knew about him, I had always wanted to deal in fiber art, so I thought it would be a good idea to invite him to Essential Store. he liked it and said, “At my age, I am still amazed at what you can do. Apparently, I was the only person in my 20s there, and they approached me. It was a coincidence that they learned about Essential Store. I had purchased Kusama’s art book at a second-hand bookstore 20 years ago, so I was familiar with his work, and I had always wanted to work with fiber art. I saw this as an opportunity and invited him to the Essential Store. “Even at my age, there are still surprises in store,” he told me.
That was two days before I was supposed to go to Tokyo to decline the invitation to participate in Kabutocho Art Week, but I thought there might be some potential. On the way to Tokyo, I received a message from Kusama saying, ‘Let’s do something together,’ and as soon as I got off the Bullet Train, I headed straight to Kabutocho and said, “Please let me participate!”
About three months prior to that, I had acquired a large work by Kusama and installed it in my hotel, so I had a hunch that something was in the works.

●So, initially, it was an offer for an exhibition at the Essential Store, but that evolved into an exhibition centred around fiber art?
Exactly. The project took a different direction from what was originally intended, so we eventually accepted the offer to present at Kabutocho Art Week. However, since Kusama had previously worked as a designer at Kawashima Textiles, a long-established textile company in Kyoto, I thought it would be interesting to express the cultural connection between textile designs, graphics, and aspects unique to Japan, rather than just fiber art. We launched the project through “Cultural Waves” with my friend Shinya Yamada, the owner of Zuan Museum.

●What made you launch “Cultural Waves” in the first place?
The term ‘culture’ was established around 1820 in the Bunka Period, but by the 1920s, Western culture had come into Japan and began to influence the unique culture of Japan. 100 years later brings us to the present. In other words, culture has been changing in 100-year cycles. Having lived through the pandemic of 2020, we wanted to draw attention to the culture of the past 100 years, which is why we started Cultural Waves.

●Objects retain fragments of past cultures and spirits. By focusing on them and picking up on the historical context and lifestyles of the time, as well as the senses that were once important but have been lost, we may be able to glimpse into the future. This time, the exhibition is being held at four locations: ‘KABUTO ONE,’ ‘Hakusuisha,’ ‘Nisshokan Building,’ and ‘Keshiki.’ What was your impression of Keshiki, the main venue?
The first thing that struck me was how quiet it was. I thought that if you put good speakers in this enclosed space, surrounded by steel, it would resonate and create a sense of travelling through time. Later, I learned that this place used to be a vault for a brokerage firm, which made sense—but my initial intuition that it was a good location was spot on.
We installed art pieces in the other venues as well. And when we installed a piece at the Nisshokan Building, a worker commented, ‘It feels like it’s always been here.’ I felt reassured that the nostalgic feeling behind the pieces had been conveyed and that they harmonised within the space.

●In the exhibition space of Keshiki, the space was partitioned by dark curtains. How did you proceed with the organization of the venue?
We wanted to create a symmetrical space when viewed from above. Specifically, we placed the Daruma Doll that we used in the DM at the entrance facing the front. We wanted to create an invisible black hole at the centre of the gallery. When planning the layout, I start by unraveling the image to determine the magnetic field of the space. This might be unique to me, but there’s a golden time around midnight to 3 a.m. when my brain and body are exhausted and adrenaline kicks in. This time, I deliberately targeted that timeframe to conduct my work, and that’s when I came up with the idea of symmetry. Interestingly, I had acquired the Daruma Doll that night, and when I looked into its eyes, I immediately associated it with a black hole. Then I noticed a large hole in the Daruma’s back, and at that moment, the theme of creating an invisible black hole at the centre of the gallery was born. The feeling of time disintegrating when looking at antique objects also fits perfectly.

●The Daruma Doll adds a sense of depth to the venue layout.
After I got the Daruma Doll, information started pouring in from all directions. A friend contacted me about some old lids from a sake brewery in Hyogo that were going to be destroyed, so they became the display stands for the exhibition. And just when I decided on which speakers to install, I found these speakers called “Half One”, which have a unique design like a circle cut in half. Black holes can also be split into semicircles, and they can be symmetrical, so I based the rough sketches for the gallery on that idea.

It often happens that things I recognise as already completed in the future gather around me miraculously at the moment when I can see them existing there. It’s not so much about looking into the future and letting my imagination run wild, but rather about pulling back a concrete image of a ‘completed object’ that already exists in the future and rewinding it. By keeping my consciousness tuned in, information mysteriously gathers there. The art pieces I selected for each venue weren’t ones I actively sought out; they were all things that mysteriously came together through word of mouth. Each one has been on the verge of selling multiple times, but for some reason, they’ve all remained until today. Perhaps they’ve been waiting to be part of this exhibition all along.

If you call the act of objects gathering around you the ‘law of attraction,’ people might think you’re a bit off, but I want to believe more in the potential of human beings. When you work alone, it’s easy to fall into that mindset, but when you work together like a cultural wave, people start to approach you and say, ‘My grandfather collects all these odd things, but instead of throwing them away, I thought I’d consult with you.’ In that sense, there are more opportunities to rescue things now.

●Around the Daruma Dolls and speakers, there were objects made from paper and fabric, like fabric patterns that you could touch with gloves. How were those selected? Actually touching old items feels like you can grasp their existence more than just seeing them, and that seemed like one of the charms of this exhibition.
We divided these items, half of which came from the Zuan Museum and the other half from my Scrap Paper collection. I imagined it as two swirling currents created by two streams intersecting and overlapping at the centre of the space (like a black hole). We also arranged scrapbooks from graphic designers and other old documents in a similar way. Usually, exhibition items are kept in glass, which tends to create a sense of distance. However, at Essential Store, we want to prioritise the desire to touch and hold the items, so we allow visitors to touch them with gloves, despite the risk of damage. We hope this will spark something in them.

●I’d also like to hear about the Essential Store. When did you start collecting vintage items?
I started collecting things when I was 17. I didn’t go to high school, so I would go to the flea market in Osaka, pick up things that were discarded, and sell them at flea markets or on Yahoo Auctions. I would buy things, sell them, and repeat that process over and over. I didn’t have a mentor. I just looked at things from a simple, pure perspective—whether they were cool or not—and tried to see them in a sensory way, free from preconceptions. That hasn’t changed even now. Of course, I’ve learned a lot since then!

●So that’s how you cultivated your aesthetic sense! You can’t know what you need unless you look at your own life. In today’s world, where we are often pulled by information, I also find myself thinking about the value of things.
I think preconceptions tend to stick with me a lot these days, and while it’s easy to tell the difference between genuine and fake, honestly, it comes down to how much it resonates with my five senses. Trading card games are a good example. They have no practical use, but everyone gets hooked on them. I think it’s about how you play with your brain. Essential Store has many collectible items, but I want to focus more on proposing the true value and enjoyment of collecting things.

●When you say collectible items, what kind of things do you mean?
Things that may not be necessary for daily life but are mentally necessary. Outsider art is also like that. When you buy and own the work, you gain the power of the artist. It’s like the ‘Stands’ in ‘JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure’! There are many Stands on my back, and I own them and pass them on to others. Then, there comes a point where you clearly want to give it to someone specific, even if it means lowering the price. At that point, my role becomes more of a collector or connector!
※1 Stand 
A ‘powerful vision’ that appears beside its owner and exhibits various supernatural abilities, acting as a guardian spirit to protect the owner. Appears in ‘JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure.’

●So, you are a mediator between objects and people. But there are people who have money but don’t attach much value to objects, and others who collect things even though they don’t have much money. What do you think accounts for that difference?
It might be influenced by one’s parents, the environment one grew up in, or one’s background. But I don’t expect everyone to be interested, and I think this is a niche genre where even if only 10% of people are interested, that’s enough for me. Still, even if people don’t understand it, if there are those who want to know how we feel, I’d be willing to take another step forward. If it doesn’t work out, we can always go back.

●Could you tell us about about your childhood?
My mother was a bit unconventional, and she had a rule that anything she found could be placed inside the house! So our home was filled with objects, stuff like stones and driftwood. We even put the fish we caught in fish tanks, so during my elementary and middle school years, I was obsessed with creating aquariums. I was always looking down at the aquarium from above and arranging the layout. What I do now is kind of the same. The worldview that forms the basis of Essential Store is an extension of what I’ve always done—the stage has shifted from an aquarium to a space, but creating a space from a bird’s-eye view might be my life’s work.

●The setting for this project is in the Nihonbashi Kabutocho area, but what kind of neighbourhood usually calls out to you?
Places with a sense of history, I suppose. Places that are said to be “power spots”—places with invisible energy—often have a history behind them. I feel that the truth is hidden in things that can’t be seen, which is why I’m drawn to old things, old architecture, and even older neighbourhoods. In that sense, Kabutocho is a great neighbourhood. There are historic buildings, delicious restaurants, and interesting shops all within a compact area. There’s a sense of order among the adults walking around, but young people also mix in, creating a harmonious atmosphere. I love that vibe. I’ve been coming here every day for the past few days, and my fascination with Kabutocho keeps growing!

●Speaking of which, have you noticed any changes since you started Essential Store?
I do feel that since the pandemic, people in Japan have had more opportunities to come into contact with old things. This is true of recycling shops and other stores that deal with old items, and as old things have become more accessible, a new appreciation for valuing and taking care of things has begun to emerge. It’s a very positive trend. I don’t know if it’s related to the pandemic and humanity facing a crisis of life, but I believe that confronting old objects and sharpening your senses improves your humanity, and by interacting with old things, you learn to make judgments based on your own thinking without being bound by preconceived notions. It’s good practice, isn’t it?

●During your time acquiring antique items, is there a specific moment that’s left a lasting impression on you?
Among antique items, those with a particularly strong power seem to create their own path and come to people like me. Last year, I rescued 25 tonnes of stone from a mansion built during the Taisho era where a Shinto priest once lived. There was a human-sized stone in the garden, and if I hadn’t taken it, it would have been crushed by heavy machinery. On the final day of the rescue, I suddenly decided to hold a tea ceremony in the large garden, so I called a gardener and set everything up for a one-night-only event. About 70 people gathered, and that night, I finally touched the stone basin I’d been curious about. Then I realised it was carved into the shape of a human figure. There was water in it, so I stripped naked and lay down in the hollow. The water pressure made me feel like I was being sucked into the stone. Looking up, I saw the full moon floating above me.

●So that stone was meant for a person to enter?
When I asked the people who lived there, they said they’d never heard of it, but it clearly looked like a human form. Then I remembered what the gardener had told me that morning: “A garden takes 100 years to create.” I imagined that maybe 100 years later would be around now, and perhaps the scene the original owner had envisioned was exactly what I was seeing today. So, even though I’d never done it before, I decided to try again by getting back into the stone. Nothing happened, though. But I thought I’d try one more time, so I gave it another shot around 4 in the morning.

●That’s your golden time, isn’t it?
Exactly! Then, I must have dozed off for a while, and when I came to, tears were welling up in my eyes. Maybe it worked after all.

●If the original owner was able to see the last view of the garden through you, well, that’s kind of romantic, isn’t it! But wasn’t it cold to be naked in the water?
It was summer at the time. If it had been winter, I wouldn’t have gone in!