Kohei Nawa, a visionary contemporary artist, mesmerises audiences with his unique approach to material and perception. Known for his groundbreaking work, Nawa expertly combines traditional artistry with cutting-edge technology, inviting viewers to explore the intricate interplay between life, matter and information through his art.
hube: Your PixCell series is renowned for its innovative use of materials, particularly the application of glass or acrylic beads. What inspired you to experiment with these materials, and how do they contribute to the conceptual aspects of your work?
Kohei Nawa: When I was in graduate school, I happened to cover an object with a transparent glass sphere while doing my research – that’s how this series started. It was the moment when this strange sense of distance between myself and the subject emerged, and I was drawn to it. First, I tried a tangerine and cabbage. My next try was a taxidermic sheep.
This transparent sphere material is multifaceted: it symbolises the way we interact with the world in the information age, the visual and tactile experience through sculpture, and the concept of the cell, which is one of the main concepts in my creation. In other words, it can be said to be a format that represents the relationship between life, matter, and information.
It was when the era of information innovation was established, and digital cameras, computers, and the Internet became commonly used. Just as a camera uses a lens to capture an object and transform it into a digital image – a photograph, PixCell transforms an object into a collection of countless images by directly covering it with a transparent sphere, a lens. As a result, the sculpture as material dissipates, and an immaterial vision of the sculpture emerges. In other words, the transparent sphere is an artificial imitation of the cells that make up the body of an organism. At the same time, through its effect as a lens, it deconstructs, diverges, and reconstructs the hazy image of the body.
So, my focus on the transparent sphere and the birth of PixCell was the moment when my concepts, ideas, and images at that time came together, and it was the beginning of a major development of my own work.
h: Your art often blurs the boundaries between traditional artistic disciplines and modern technology. Could you share more about how your multidisciplinary approach influences the themes and messages you aim to convey in your work?
KN: My creative interest is rooted in the search for the phenomenon of life, which emerges from the continuous exchange of matter and information. The concept of the cell, which underlies all of my work, is also a fluid thing that moves back and forth between information and matter and is universally present at every moment, from ancient times to the future. Therefore, by combining a variety of techniques and technologies, both traditional and modern, the production process itself, which switches between digital and analogue, data and material, is one of the approaches to explore my interest.
At each stage of the production process, the artist may work directly with the material with bare hands or use a digital haptic device to distance himself from the object to perceive a more abstract space. By interacting with the material at different distances, it is possible to develop new, deeper physical sensations and convey a broader range of sensory experiences to the viewer. I also feel that the involvement of handwork with the material to the computer-generated expression makes it richer and easier to convey.
The search for unknown expressions requires countless experiments and collaboration with various professionals. Even for a single paint, the chemical properties such as viscosity, particle size, and drying speed vary greatly depending on the formulation, so we repeat experiments from scratch. I also work with programmers to develop original programs and explore the possibilities of expanding the technology with traditional workshops in Kyoto. I run a creative platform called Sandwich in Fushimi, Kyoto. I believe that the process of realising artworks drives this platform, connects various talents involved in art, and activates multiple circulation processes.
h: What do you find most intriguing about manipulating perception through your art, and what kind of reactions do you hope to elicit from your audience?
KN: My interest is not only to reproduce material phenomena but also to find the systematic laws that shape these phenomena. This leads me to explore the relationship between the universe and life and the future of sensibility and technology. There must be a new paradigm of world perception that transcends the scale of the human body, what we might call Cosmic Sensibility. By expressing this in the artworks, I try to show viewers an experience that appeals to their tactile and visual perceptions. This complex sensory experience through art will open up insights into the universal and abstract relationships in the world that cannot be fully translated by each of the five human senses.
h: Your work challenges traditional notions of beauty, particularly in the context of taxidermied animals. Could you elaborate on your intentions behind this challenge and how you believe it contributes to the broader conversation about aesthetics?
KN: Taxidermic animals are mainly used in the PixCell series. Taxidermy came into vogue with the European Wunderkammer craze in the 16th to 18th centuries and was incorporated into interior spaces as hunting trophies for aristocrats to flaunt their hunting exploits. It can be said that taxidermy was originally a technique born from the observation and collection of animals. However, I have always believed that the relationship between humans and animals and the perception of taxidermy differs depending on the culture, time period, and aesthetic background.
For example, deer, a representative motif of the PixCell series, are known as messengers of the gods in Shintoism and symbols of Japanese forests and are treated with the utmost care at shrines such as Kashima Shrine and Kasuga Taisha Shrine. In modern Japan, however, due to a combination of factors such as global warming, postwar afforestation policies, and urban expansion, the deer population has skyrocketed since the latter half of the 20th century, and they are now being exterminated as vermin. The use of a taxidermy deer, born from this background, represents the strange and delicate relationship between humans and nature. The Ontosai festival at Suwa-Taisha in Nagano shrine has a tradition where heads of 75 deers are dedicated to gods (currently, they use taxidermy pieces), which is positioned as a hunting ritual that connects mythology and human activities.
When I created PixCell-Sheep, the first work in the PixCell series, I was also aware of the cloned sheep Dolly and stem cell technology (by the way, Dolly was stuffed and donated to the Scottish Museum in 2003, the year after PixCell-Sheep was presented). Suppose taxidermy is viewed as an information technology for preserving and reconstructing the ever-changing nature. In that case, it is possible to talk about cloning and iPS cells in the context of taxidermy. In this way, the PixCell series is a reinterpretation of taxidermy in this age of digital and genetic technology. The process starts with purchasing motifs from search results based on keywords typed into a search engine. This reflects how materials have become information and are infinitely exchanged and diffused on the Web as equivalent image data. The theme of the work is directly applied to the production process.
h: Having displayed your work internationally, how has exposure to different cultures and audiences influenced the development of your work, and do you notice any distinct reactions or interpretations based on cultural contexts?
KN: Art can be passed down over generations. Therefore, it must have a universality that transcends place and time and a strength of expression that is open to diverse interpretations yet firm enough not to be swallowed up by them. I create my works with the idea that they will still be perceived as art no matter who sees them or what times they are exposed to.
However, it has to be realised after reflecting on the context surrounding the work and the place it is exhibited. For example, at the 14th Asian Art Biennale Bangladesh in 2010, I collaborated with Sandwich members, Kyoto University of the Arts students, and Bangladeshi artists to create a series of sculptures called Villus on site. This work won the Grand Prix. The work is based on figurines and toys collected while walking the streets of Dhaka. The local artists created an enlarged framework from these objects and sprayed polyurethane foam onto the framework with Sandwich and a student team. The polyurethane foam, which continues to expand as a result of a chemical reaction, evokes the loss of control of the epidermis and its deviation from the body. I liken this mixed visual and tactile experience to the paralysing physical sensations of an infinitely expanding and disembodied capitalist society. In this respect, working in Bangladesh was significant. The chaotic streets of Bangladesh, which is still considered a least developed country due to natural disasters and overpopulation, are a true example of global capitalism, and the figurines and toys I acquired there seemed to me to be objects that represent the chaos of capitalism. The process of creating works with these objects as the axis, with the roles of Japan and Bangladesh, artists and staff, and students complementing each other, was, I believe, an alternative to the capitalist division of labour based on rationality. The Biennale is also positioned as an essential project for the development of Bangladesh through culture and the arts, and the fact that we were able to achieve consistent collaboration from production to artwork was a significant event these days when solidarity in the Asian region is becoming more and more critical.
h: Your art is visually expansive, demanding a significant amount of space to look organic. Could you delve into the dynamic relationship you create with space in your creative process? Are there specific prerequisites or ideal conditions a space must meet for you to seamlessly integrate your work, and how does the spatial context influence the impact of your art?
KN: In my work, I have always emphasised the importance of creating a ‘space of the senses’ and sharing it with the viewer. To do so, I must necessarily encompass the space itself as art. Of course, some works specialise in the delicate sensibilities that are best encountered in a white cube devoid of urban noise, and I would like to explore such expressions in depth. However, in our current chaotic age of environmental problems and fragmentation, I believe that public art has a significant role in making people reconsider the nature of cities and in planting new seeds in people’s sensibilities. Based on this premise, an architectural and urban approach will inevitably be used in my search for a form of art that is not simply static and confined to the exhibition rooms of museums. In the first place, art, architecture, and cities are similar in that they combine human consciousness into a single form and make it a reality. And just as architecture and cities alter their forms depending on the surrounding environment and context, my work has no ideal prerequisite for space.
At the same time, given that a work of art will be inherited over several centuries, it has a longer lifespan than architecture or cities. In other words, a work of art must not only fit the space it occupies today but also imagine how its presence will transform that space and field in the future. The work’s dynamism lies in the mutual contextualisation of the work and the space.
These interpretations feed back into my production system, resulting in Sandwich, a creative platform that functions as an architectural atelier.
h: In your opinion, what project was the most interesting yet difficult to work on?
KN: The sculpture Throne exhibition inside the Louvre’s glass pyramid in 2018 left a particular impression on me. This special exhibition was held as part of the Japonismes 2018 project to commemorate the 160th anniversary of the exchange between France and Japan. I used ‘authority’ as a keyword here, overlaying various contexts such as the history of the Louvre, the history of Japan, the history of museums, and the history of religious artefacts, and attempting to sublimate them into an expression.
One of the oldest museums in the world, the Louvre was originally the palace of the King of France with collections from all over the world. In other words, it is a place that shows how authority has been related to human society and culture’s development. In this light, the exhibition space, a glass pyramid designed by Ieoh Ming Pei, also seems to cite the pyramids of Egypt as a symbol of the most ancient and beautiful authority and civilisation in human society. In this work, I explored a contemporary form of authority passed down through changing forms by referring to forms associated with Oriental rituals, such as dashi, yamaboko (matsuri floats) and mikoshi (portable shrines). At the same time, this work also focused on AI, which was rapidly becoming part of the social infrastructure. This was also the time when people began to realise the potential of AI as a new authority, as it became indispensable to politics, the economy, and society. How will this new intelligence born of technology grow, and who will sit on the throne of the future? In Throne, a small vacant throne is placed in the centre of the sculpture as a response to these societal presuppositions. As a motif connecting Egypt, the Louvre, and Kyoto, the sculpture’s surface is gilded with gold leaf, a technique that came to Japan via the Silk Road, with the cooperation of a traditional workshop in Kyoto.
2018 was the year when the Louvre Museum had a record 10.2 million visitors and when the Yellow Vests protests, a protest against the French government, began. With these various contemporaneous events resonating with each other, it was an exciting and rare experience for us to express my exploration of a grand scale that transcended time and place.
h: Could you share some insights into specific artists who have significantly influenced your artistic journey and are there any particular artists that you would like to collaborate with in the future? What kind of creative synergies or themes are you interested in exploring through potential future collaborations?
KN: Min Tanaka, a dancer, and Hitoshi Nomura, a sculptor, have been particularly influential for me.
I met Min Tanaka at Art Camp Hakushu, which he organised in 1994 when I was a university student. My experience here quickly expanded my vision of sculptural expression, including perception, phenomena, space, architecture, performing arts, and public art. In particular, I was immensely shocked when I saw Min’s Locus Focus for the first time in Hakushu. Standing in the mountains of Hakushu, Min chose how his body interacted with the environment through his every move and created a series of dances. It was a moment when the world and the body choreographed each other, and our perception was also opened to the environment, resonating with Min’s sensations. It was from this shared experience of a ‘space of the senses’ that my sculptural expression began. In a sense, my sculpture is about making this medium ‘dance’ and sharing that ‘dance’ with the viewer. I examine how the medium can relate to its surroundings and choreograph it appropriately. This creates a sculpture that is not merely a medium for the one-way transmission of the creator’s inner world but a catalyst for creating new horizons of perception and imagination for those who see it. In addition, Art Camp Hakushu, where dancers, performers, sculptors, painters, musicians, poets, and other artists from all over the world gathered to explore new art forms, became one of the ideal ‘places for creativity’, which led to the basic concept of the creative platform Sandwich that I preside over.
Hitoshi Nomura was my mentor during my college days. Nomura’s works are mainly focused on astronomical observation and the universe, and he has been shaping the relationship between the universe, human beings, and life through his highly diverse approaches. For example, he developed his daily astrophotography into sculptures and music or collected meteorites from all over the world and juxtaposed them with human technology. I felt that all of these works were sculptures, and I realised that sculpture is not a simply three-dimensional form but a broader concept. Once I became aware of sculpture as the material realisation of the artist’s relationship with the universe, my output expanded, and I began working with various materials. The concept of Cosmic Sensibility proposed by Hitoshi Nomura is especially important to me. It is to sense the circulation of life and matter that extends beyond the physical scale to the entire universe. This is a world that can only be opened through art, and it is an interest that leads me to the concept of the cell. I held a solo exhibition at Pace Gallery in Seoul in November 2023, but Hitoshi Nomura passed away just before this exhibition. With this background, I titled my solo exhibition Cosmic Sensibility to pay homage to Hitoshi Nomura.
h: Your collaborations with Damien Jalet VESSEL (2016), Planet [wanderer] (2021), and Mist (2022) represent a unique fusion of sculpture and choreography, exploring the contradictions of the human body. Could you share your personal experience working on this project, particularly how the intersection between your visual art and Jalet’s choreography influenced your creative process? How did the collaboration shape your perspective on the relationship between sculpture and dance, and what insights or challenges did you encounter in combining these two distinct art forms?
KN: I have been interested in dance and performance since I was a student. I was particularly impressed by our discussions about the body and skin sensations while participating in Min Tanaka’s Art Camp Hakushu. As I watched Min Tanaka collaborate with various artists, I felt that dance is not a genre but a medium for connecting with diverse things, where any material can become an extension of the body. I felt that dance is not a genre but a medium to communicate with various things and that any material can become an extension of the body. The concepts of epidermis and cell, which are my current creative themes, can be traced back to this interest in the body. Therefore, it was fascinating and natural for me to explore the continuity and synergy between sculpture and dance through the collaboration with Damien.
We did not really assign roles such as choreography or stage design but rather proceeded with the production through discussions about concepts, images, and scene development, as well as through repeated experiments in the studio. Nevertheless, we noticed many differences when comparing stage design and sculpture/installation. While the same is true for creating a worldview, sculptures and installations are created based on the assumption that the viewer will look at the work from various angles and at close range. In contrast, the stage is frontal, and the distance between the viewer and the work is much different. In addition, the stage requires a wide range of expression along the time axis and a tremendous amount of information to be handled since the scenes change one after another, and the surrounding environment of the stage design, such as lighting and sound, can be designed accordingly. In other words, it is like creating multiple installations and editing the flow that connects them.
h: What new directions or themes do you envision exploring in the future? Are there any particular concepts, materials, or techniques that you are eager to experiment with in upcoming projects?
KN: The underlying themes and interests will remain the same. I would like to continue to explore and challenge the idea of the cell. The cell is a universal concept that flows between matter and information and fills the universe beyond scale and time. It can be a subatomic particle, a bit, or the large-scale structure of the cosmos like bubbles. And, of course, it is connected to the cells that make up our bodies. That is why we always have the potential to resonate with everything in the universe. In recent years, stepping aside from anthropocentrism has also become a major concern in art, and understanding life and the universe through the concept of the cell is one way to achieve this. We should not be bound by something like nationality or ethnicity. Instead, through the connection of life via cell, we should position ourselves within the cycle of life and matter on a cosmic scale. Nurturing such a cosmic sensibility will have a profound impact on the relationship between life and the planet in the future. For this reason, I believe that exploring the evolution of life and the future of intelligence, together with science and technology, is an essential task for all those involved in creative work.
Just as the cell is omnipresent in the world, so too are the ideas, images, and concepts about creation that continue to flow from the moment I wake up, take a shower, on the way to the studio, on the TV news or in discussions with friends – philosophers and architects. Therefore, I am constantly struggling and exploring how and in which order to realise them.
Photography courtesy of the artist
