~ April 2026
Designing Abroad: A Home Renovation in Osaka
Looking back, what began as a straightforward renovation became something far more layered. After purchasing a home in Osaka, I was joined by my brother and nephew, and together we formed a small, cross-generational team of designers and makers. Over two months, we navigated not only unfamiliar materials and local building processes, but also the realities of working closely with different personalities—each of us bringing our own perspectives, habits, and thresholds for decision-making. That dynamic added friction at times, but it ultimately strengthened the outcome, forcing clearer communication and more intentional collaboration. What stands out now isn’t just the finished space, but how the experience reshaped our approach: more adaptive, more patient, and grounded in real-time problem solving. Between stretches of work, we traveled through Kyoto, Osaka, and Tokyo, drawing inspiration from the precision and care embedded in their architecture and craftsmanship. In hindsight, the project became as much about learning how to work within different cultural and interpersonal rhythms as it was about completing the renovation itself—an experience that deepened my ability to carry a concept through complexity and into something tangible.
~ March 2026
Quiet Mastery: Inside the Timeless Craft of Tatami with Ooe Tatami
There’s a quiet kind of mastery in the work of a tatami shokunin—one that reveals itself not in spectacle, but in precision, patience, and an almost meditative attention to detail. For our home in Japan, we had the privilege of working with Ooe Tatami in Sakai, Osaka, a workshop that has spent nearly half a century honoring and evolving this deeply rooted craft. From our first consultation in Sakai to the final installation in Osaka, their process felt less like a transaction and more like an exchange—of knowledge, care, and shared respect for tradition.
Tatami has long been a symbol of Japanese living, known for its calming presence and distinctive scent. That essence is carried forward in every mat they produce. The father, Syunzi, has devoted his life to mastering the art, embodying a philosophy shaped by decades of repetition and refinement. His son, Toshiyuki, brings a thoughtful balance—honoring inherited techniques while adapting them to modern lifestyles and sensibilities. Together, their work reflects both continuity and quiet innovation.
Despite my novice Nihongo, conversation flowed easily. Technology bridged the gaps, allowing us to talk shop in a way that felt surprisingly natural—as if language itself stepped aside in service of craftsmanship. Through those exchanges, it became clear that what they create goes far beyond flooring. Each tatami mat carries intention: measured, cut, and assembled with an understanding of space, proportion, and how people live within it.
Behind every finished room lies their story—one of dedication, evolution, and an unwavering commitment to keeping tatami culture alive. In a world that often favors speed and convenience, their work is a reminder that some traditions endure not by resisting change, but by shaping it with care.
~ January 2026
First Night in Higashi-Osaka: Cold Air, Warm Beginnings
Arrival in Japan didn’t unfold with ceremony—it came quietly, in cold air and clear blue skies. We reached our home in Higashi-Osaka to a house still in transition: no heat, just empty rooms and the anticipation of deliveries yet to come. The temperature cut through everything, hovering around 16°F, turning the wait into something we had to actively solve. A quick run up the street turned into a small act of survival—hot food, drinks, anything to bring warmth back into the moment. An improvised table came together from what we had, and we gathered around it, holding onto heat where we could. Time stretched, then softened. And somewhere in that cold, between unpacked boxes and first sips, a bottle of Chita found its place—less a drink, more a quiet anchor—marking the beginning of something new.
~ January 2026
A Quiet Practice in Making
Some of my earliest memories are set in the rhythm of a barbershop—the hum of clippers, quiet conversations, the ritual of care. My mother spent four decades behind the chair, and I spent years nearby, studying her tools and imagining how I might one day make my own.
That curiosity eventually became a quiet practice. In my spare time, I design and build traditional barber tools. Razors, brushes, small objects meant to be used and held with intention. Unlike digital work, these pieces are immediate and physical. Every decision shows up in your hands.
What draws me in is the process as much as the outcome. Sketching, prototyping, refining and letting things evolve slowly. I now use these pieces in my daily routine, and there’s something grounding about that. Holding something you’ve made carries a different weight. It’s not about perfection, but connection.
I’m still early in this exploration, with plans to expand into a more complete line over time. For now, this is about the practice of making, learning, and documenting the process along the way.