This training began with a vague sense of crisis: that in the space humans inhabit and in theobjects placed within it, an excess of information has been embedded, obscuring the essence of form itself.
When we encounter culturally shaped systems and customs of various countries—and the artifacts naturally formed through long periods of time—we can instinctively grasp, even without words, the underlying order and solid foundation that support them. In Japan, for instance, such harmony has slowly and deeply permeated everyday life, to the point where objects are no longer perceived merely as aesthetic targets, but as silent “companions” essential to life, taken for granted in daily existence.
This idea stands in stark contrast to what is now called “open design.” It may seem, from a modern perspective, rigid, monotonous, and far removed from freedom. But within the strictly defined “boxes” of architecture at the time, this was inevitable. Freedom of form was allowed only within narrow bounds, and this limitation was closely tied to the larger structure of society. Invisible forces such as religion, morality, and social roles naturally found their way into the forms of furniture and tools.
After the Meiji era, however, these “shapes of dwelling,” which had been carefully cultivated over centuries, were suddenly shaken by an influx of foreign cultures. Regardless of human sensitivity, the very structure of daily life was rapidly reconfigured at an overwhelming pace.
In such a constantly shifting world, the question arises: which direction should we walk toward?
Through this training, I sought to explore and present potential solutions to this discord—universal design strategies or enduring systems—through hands-on making and critical reflection.