Interview with Kokuyo

KOKUYO Co., Ltd. is one of Japan's leading companies. We do more than just manufacture and sell stationery and office furniture; we provide a one-stop solution for spatial design and furniture development aimed at making people's "working, learning, and living" more creative.

To me, design is about "creating things that naturally inspire attachment."
I believe that designs possessing tenderness and healing qualities—making you intuitively feel "I want to touch this" or "I want to be enveloped by this space"—are what affirm our humanity.
However, and this is the true essence of design, if you compose everything using only your favorite emotional forms, it becomes "too much" and ends up exhausting people's minds. It requires an exquisite balance of "addition" (making a statement) and "subtraction" (creating tranquility). When all elements are finally added together, the overall space should equal "zero"—a state of perfect harmony. Solving this complex equation is what design means to me.

I love creating designs that take root in people's daily lives, staying close to their hearts—sometimes healing them, sometimes boosting their motivation.
The "office spaces" I usually design are environments where people easily feel stress, which is exactly why the power of design is tested to naturally soothe on-edge minds. Transforming an office into a "place you want to go to" or a "place that inexplicably energizes you," and guiding people's minds to a healthy, happy state is what gives me the greatest sense of fulfillment.

For products, I love designs that gently stay close to the human heart, such as the "Love Sofa" by Marcel Wanders for moooi, the "Oru" furniture series by Patricia Urquiola, and her "Bandas" rug collection for GAN.
In terms of spatial design, it would be Antoni Gaudí's Sagrada Família. I was deeply moved by the majestic spatial energy composed of human tenacity and the organic (biomorphic) forms of the natural world.

My very first project was designing a break room for the staff of a commercial facility inside Ueno Station in Tokyo. The experience of designing while imagining the faces of the behind-the-scenes staff, before they stepped out onto the main stage, became my starting point as a spatial designer.

I prefer materials that convey the warmth of human handcraft and an organic texture. For example, unglazed tiles where each piece has unique unevenness, or plaster finishes that bear the traces of a craftsman's hands. While considering the durability required for public spaces, I value working with materials that retain the comforting "fluctuations" inherent in nature.

I expend the most mental energy when I am formulating the initial "design strategy" and figuring out the user's "hot buttons" (emotional triggers).
However, once that core is established and I enter the phase of translating it into concrete forms, I am enveloped in a completely different sensation—like swimming mindlessly in a pool. I let go of complex thoughts and layer sketches just as I feel them. The moment when this "deep logical consideration (left brain)" instantly switches to "intuitive creativity (right brain)" is when I feel the true essence of design.

It is the switching and balance between the aforementioned "logic (left brain)" and "intuition (right brain)." No matter how beautiful a form is, it will not function without a logical strategy to move the user's heart. Conversely, even with a perfect strategy, people won't be drawn to the final output if it lacks intuitive comfort. I place the most emphasis on fusing these two aspects at a high level.

In the initial phase of deeply understanding the user, my brain gets extremely exhausted from facing invisible challenges. However, once the strategic path becomes clear and I enter the modeling phase, it completely flips into a sense of elation and liberation, as if I have entered "the zone." This intense contrast between the "agony of creation" and the "joy of liberation" represents my real emotions while designing.

There are moments when I am wrapped in unexpected joy—when a space feels larger than I imagined, or the color combinations turn out more beautiful than expected. At the same time, however, my eyes inevitably are drawn to the details I fell short on, thinking, "I should have done this better."
Like a convergent function in mathematics, the more experience you gain, the closer the degree of perfection gets to the limit, but it never reaches a full 100%. That is my honest feeling—a mixture of joy and frustration.

Iterative prototyping. However, in spatial design, it's difficult to repeatedly build 1:1 scale prototypes. That is exactly why it is crucial to actually visit the magnificent spaces created by predecessors and experience the atmosphere firsthand. Rather than learning flatly on a screen, the accumulation of elements felt through the five senses becomes the repertoire for success.

I look at whether it has become a "self-serving design by the designer."
When explaining the intent of the design, if the subject "I" is used too frequently, it's probably not a very good design. The subject of design should always be the "user."

I had lived in Japan my entire life, but I recently relocated my base to Bangkok, Thailand.
Going abroad made me realize for the first time what a "precise and elaborate culture" Japanese design is, finishing even the smallest details beautifully. No matter how expensive the materials used, if even a single screw is driven unevenly, the space instantly looks cheap. Human-like "fluctuations" and mere "sloppy work" are two completely different things.
Since coming to Bangkok, instead of leaving it entirely to the site workers, I have started to think through the intricate details myself and give precise instructions. Being able to personally control Japan's meticulous aesthetics on an overseas site is a great growth (advantage) for me. On the downside, perhaps I have become obsessively particular about minute details that clients might not even notice.

My basic process is to extract insights through thorough observation of and empathy for customer behavior, create initial prototypes, and then iterate on verification and improvement.

Lyngby Vase by LYNGBY PORCELÆN
BERNADOTTE DINNER PLATE by Georg Jensen
Falcon chair by TIME & STYLE
Fussbett sandals by MARNI
La vilaine Lulu by Yves Saint Laurent

Do not start thinking from a superficial appearance or a "photogenic" style. First, deeply empathize with the users who form the core of the project. The direction for all excellent design will naturally emerge from there.

Pros: You acquire the ability to verbalize abstract issues and develop "realistic problem-solving skills" that are not just armchair theories. Above all, you get to be the driving force that introduces new spaces to the world.
Cons: Because your eye for design becomes unusually discerning, there are times when you agonize because you are not personally satisfied, even if the client is perfectly happy.

"Deep user understanding and empathy." The hints for groundbreaking design are always hidden within the process of getting to know the user.

I believe the most important skill is the ability to temporarily set aside the designer's strong ego and stereotypes, and "think things through purely from a user-centric perspective."

Please contact me via the inquiry form below:
https://reg18.smp.ne.jp/regist/is?SMPFORM=mckh-mcqfle-2222ad8c718758801a69551f791a9a03