A Childhood Glimpse of In Praise of Shadows in Mackintosh's Architecture

My interest in Japanese aesthetics began at an early age. Growing up in a creative family in Glasgow, Scotland, I was lucky enough to spend a few summers taking classes in The Mackintosh Building at the Glasgow School of Art, designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh. Studying here, I was exposed daily to the innovative results of Scottish design thinking influenced by Japan and how this fusion could result in groundbreaking work that bridges cultures.

Roaming the corridors of Mackintosh’s architecture, I witnessed the interplay of light and shadow. I had my first glimpse of Japanese craftsmanship techniques, observing the wooden frameworks, which were akin to Japanese kigumi. Not until later would I become acquainted with the works of Junichiro Tanizaki and his book In Praise of Shadows, where he writes:

“Whenever I see the alcove of a tastefully built Japanese room, I marvel at our comprehension of the secrets of shadows, our sensitive use of shadow and light. For the beauty of the alcove is not the work of some clever device. An empty space is marked off with plain wood and plain walls, so that the light drawn into its forms dim shadows within emptiness. There is nothing more. And yet, when we gaze into the darkness that gathers behind the crossbeam, around the flower vase, beneath the shelves, though we know perfectly well it is mere shadow, we are overcome with the feeling that in this small corner of the atmosphere there reigns complete and utter silence; that here in the darkness, immutable tranquillity holds sway.”

These words, referencing a traditional Japanese ‘tokonoma' (alcove), perfectly capture the

stillness and depth I felt within that building at a young age.

Bridging Two Philosophies: Japan's technical precision with Western design thinking

My first experience connecting with Japanese craftsmanship in Japan was during my three-month exchange programme to Hiko Mizuno Jewellery School in Aoyama, Shibuya. Here, I observed the mastery of Japanese artisans' hands-on through a Damascus steel workshop, where I learnt hand-forging.

During this exchange, I witnessed the excellence in craftsmanship and pursuit of perfection. Yet studying among my Japanese peers, I also recognised a significant contrast: while Japan excels in technical precision, Western design education, such as at the Glasgow School of Art or the Royal College of Art, which prioritises conceptual thinking and narrative, was significantly lacking.

It was clear to me that if we could merge these two ways of learning and conceptualising, similar to Mackintosh's fusion of Japanese and Scottish design, something completely new and groundbreaking could be possible. And flash forward five years later. After graduating from the Royal College of Art, I found myself rediscovering these metalworking techniques at the ‘Biology of Metal: Craftsmanship in Tsubame-Sanjo’ exhibition at Japan House London in 2018. Astounded that so many factories championing technical innovation and precision in craftsmanship were located in one town, I knew this would be the place to marry my conceptual design thinking with Japan's technical innovation.

The Birth of ‘Oku': Arriving in Tsubame-Sanjo

And in 2020, with the help of the Daiwa Scholarship, I moved to the small industrial town of Tsubame-Sanjo in Niigata Prefecture to study and create with the craftspeople. Living there, I was struck by how the entire community seemed to operate as a single, interconnected workshop. Small factories worked side by side, each specialising in a particular process, yet sharing knowledge and supporting one another in a uniquely collaborative ecosystem.

Together, we developed my design, ‘Oku: a knife with a unique folded handle’ drawing inspiration from chopsticks and chopstick rests to fuse Eastern and Western cultures. Its form, enabling it to interact with objects in new ways, hooks or wraps elegantly along the edge of a plate or board to keep the blade off the table, creating a newfound sense of intimacy.

The design is the result of a careful collaboration with master artisans, leveraging techniques rooted in over 400 years of Japanese metalworking tradition. Oku is packaged and sold with a wooden board made in partnership with Karimoku Furniture, Japan’s leading wooden furniture manufacturer, utilising sustainably sourced Japanese wood. Each board is unique, composed of expertly cut strips that recreate a natural wood grain pattern, giving every set its own identity.

Oku has earned a Dezeen Homeware Design of the Year award and is used in Michelin Star restaurants. However, what currently excites me most is the community the project is forming, spanning food, film and poetry, bridging East and West, practice and idea, embodying my belief that design can act as a dialogue: connecting traditions, challenging norms, while creating something that feels innovative yet timeless.

Design as ‘Dialogue'

Alongside Oku, I am developing a new project called TANA.

TANA is a platform dedicated to bridging British and Japanese cultures through product creation, exhibition curation, collaborative events, and the exchange of ideas. Its mission is to enrich and promote traditional craftsmanship.

In another area of my practice, I am also continuing to develop a casting project with a glassblower in Tokyo, exploring centrifugal casting techniques from Toyama Prefecture. Together, we are creating vessels that encapsulate foraged flowers and butterflies between metal and glass.

In collaboration with artisans in Tsubame–Sanjo, I will continue to produce and sell Oku internationally, showcasing the region’s technical innovation to Western audiences while promoting cultural exchange and celebrating traditional crafts and local materials.