In conjunction with the exhibition Nakajo Sings, Nakajo Dances—Letters, Pictures, and Shiseido, currently on view at Shiseido Gallery, the series “Talking about Nakajo” invites people closely connected to Masayoshi Nakajo to reflect on his work and his way of seeing.

The time they spent together, the words they exchanged, memories from the field—through each perspective emerges not only Nakajo as a designer, but Nakajo as a person.

For this fifth instalment, we speak with graphic designer Sota Yamaguchi. For the exhibition, Yamaguchi created a motion graphics video based on the works of Masayoshi Nakajo. Through this first attempt at animating another person’s graphics and illustrations, he reflects on what he discovered about the movement, language, and design of Nakajo’s work.

A story not as narrative, but as a worldview

—When you received the commission for the video, how did the project begin for you?

At first I received an email saying, “Let’s make a video.” Then, as we had more meetings, it gradually became a project to create a video based on Nakajo’s works. I think this was the first time I had taken graphics or illustrations drawn by someone other than myself and used them as material to animate.

At the beginning, I felt quite a lot of pressure. But once I actually started, I didn’t feel as much pressure as I had expected. Maybe I was also trying not to feel it.

I wanted it to be clear that these were Nakajo’s works. At the same time, by unfolding as a video within the flow of time, I hoped it would become a different experience from simply following the works with your eyes. I wanted to find that kind of balance.

—How did you think about the structure of the video?

At first I wondered whether I should structure it by creating a proper story, or whether it would be better to mix together various works. In the end, it was closer to the latter. More like a collage, or like DJing.

Rather than conveying a story as a single narrative, I wanted to convey a story as a worldview. That was the feeling I wanted to value.

So I’d like people to pay attention to the overall sense of mixing and the way the pauses are handled. There are moments where something just a little bit different enters, or where the movement becomes slightly strange. I think there is a subtle sense of dissonance.

There is something in Nakajo’s work that makes people smile. So this time too, rather than simply animating the works in a cool way, I wanted to value the parts that feel somehow funny or mysterious. It feels as if there is meaning, but not necessarily a clear meaning. That sense of “hmm?”—placing it in the work without making it feel deliberate—is something I care about a great deal in my own practice.

—When animating Nakajo’s works, were there parts that came to you intuitively and parts you had to think through?

Most of it came to me almost immediately. Looking at the images, I could naturally see how they might move. Just like the title Nakajo Sings, Nakajo Dances, when you look at them, you can imagine movement. I think that impression comes from Nakajo’s expression itself.

Nakajo’s works often feature motifs of living things—people, animals, flowers. If it’s an aeroplane, it would fly; if it’s an animal, it would move; even a flower has some kind of movement.

Also, rather than being made of multiple layers built up on top of one another, the elements exist within a single picture. Because there are distinct parts, it’s easy to imagine how they might move. I’ve heard that he made works by cutting things out by hand and collaging them, and I feel that quality in his everyday work as well. Each element sits within a single picture plane. So when turning them into video, I could naturally think of them as separate components.

What I struggled with, on the other hand, was the overall structure. I made it fairly calmly, so that each work could be seen more or less equally. But until the very end, I was worried that the whole thing might become too monotonous. Eventually, though, I felt that it was fine for it to end with a sense of, “Oh, it’s already over.”

I don’t think Nakajo’s work is necessarily about dramatic development either. It feels more like he calmly gathered together the things he liked. Hanatsubaki features also feel quite flat, rather than being structured dramatically with a beginning, development, turn, and conclusion. So in the end, I think it was right not to create a climax in the video. Perhaps, unconsciously, that flatness was connected to Nakajo’s work.

Words and pictures living on the same plane

—Nakajo’s words also have a strong presence, don’t they?

His sense for choosing words is incredible. Some of them are almost like puns, but they’re really amazing. Even when the words are short, by combining with the image, they reach somewhere that neither the words nor the image could reach alone.

At the preview, I heard from Nakajo’s daughter that he would write words on pieces of paper, put them up, and ask all kinds of people for their opinions—not only people in design, but people from completely different fields. I sometimes put up images and compare them, but I don’t go as far as putting up words. Learning that Nakajo approached language in the same way left a strong impression on me.

In advertising, words are often arranged beautifully so that they communicate clearly. But in Nakajo’s case, the words are alive. Rather than being placed there as copy, they are combined as one element, just like the picture or the pattern.

That’s why the theme of this exhibition, “Letters and Pictures,” makes so much sense to me. When I look at Nakajo’s work, it feels less like design and more like something speaking. It feels as if the person is there. That is what I find so compelling.

Designing with emotion and life

—Through making the video, did you feel any points of connection between yourself and Nakajo?

It may be presumptuous… (laughs), but I did feel there might be some. Looking at his work from the early period to his later years, there is of course consistency. But I don’t think he was the kind of designer whose work is extremely consistent. In terms of technique alone, sometimes it looks painterly; at other times, the imagery is very avant-garde and simple. He also seems to have flexibly taken in the illustration styles that were current at each moment.

I don’t think that comes only from intuition. I feel it became that way because he was designing while taking in the time he was living through, his worries and psychological state at that moment, and his own life. Of course, I never had direct contact with Nakajo, so this is only my own impression.

People often talk about the difference between design and art. Design has social meaning, and there is a way in which you separate it from yourself and place importance on how a third party will see it. But in Nakajo’s design, I feel there is also the act of expressing something honest within himself, of directly showing how he wanted to express something. That is where I sense something between art and design.

That feeling is also very important to me. People often say I resemble Nakajo because I draw by hand, but I don’t think that’s the point. It isn’t about whether something is hand-drawn or not. Rather, I found a point of connection—again, only on my own terms—in the idea of designing while including emotion and life.

When I look at Nakajo’s career as a whole, his expression moves back and forth. In a sense, I think that takes enormous courage. He could have settled into one style, but instead he continued to try different things in each era. That is what I find so remarkable, and it is how I would like to be too.

—You mentioned being surprised by the breadth of Nakajo’s expression. Is there anything you yourself would like to try next?

I’d like to try making three-dimensional work, something I haven’t really done before. Furniture, for example. I’ve started little by little, and I hope there will be an opportunity to present it. Perhaps the fact that I’ve begun working in different genres, such as video and music, is also part of that.

Designers in the past didn’t seem so bound by titles. Rather than being “graphic designers,” they were simply “designers”: making picture books, doing advertising, working on spaces and products. I really admire that kind of way of being.

Nakajo, too, didn’t use his solo exhibitions to show past work; he presented new work. I think that is truly remarkable. When designers hold exhibitions, they often end up showing their previous works, but he created and presented new pieces each time. I want to learn from that attitude and continue making work.

Agata Yamaguchi
Born in 1988. Graduated from the Department of Design, Faculty of Fine Arts, Tokyo University of the Arts. After working at 10 inc., he founded collé inc. in 2021.
Guided by the motto “bright graphic design,” he works on corporate identity and visual identity development, branding, package design, signage planning, and artwork. Through his own brand, published by collé, he explores expression across a wide range of fields.
Recipient of the JAGDA New Designer Award 2024.
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