Interviews mit Daiki Inoshita

The main idea was to reinterpret Japan’s buffet culture as a refined spatial experience. Inspired by the surrounding city view, ocean imagery, and layers of geological time, the design connects food, movement, materiality, and scenery into one continuous dining journey.

My main focus was to create a space that feels abundant yet calm. The central buffet counter organizes circulation, while lighting, textures, and ceiling elements help guests move intuitively and enjoy the food in a relaxed atmosphere.

I hope this design will continue to be used as a reference for creating restaurant spaces that balance operational efficiency with emotional experience. I also plan to develop this approach further in future hospitality and food hall projects.

The design process took several months, including concept development, spatial planning, material studies, lighting coordination, and detailed design refinement.

This was a commissioned project. The challenge was to create a buffet restaurant that could handle high guest turnover while still offering a memorable and sophisticated dining experience.

The design was realized as a commercial restaurant and is currently used by the client as an operational dining space.

I have long been interested in restaurant design because it connects spatial design directly with human behavior, emotion, and business performance. A buffet restaurant was especially interesting because circulation and experience are closely linked.

The design was not directly influenced by a specific designer. Instead, it was shaped by the site context, the client’s business model, Japanese buffet culture, natural materials, and the urban scenery surrounding the restaurant.

The target customers are a wide range of guests, including families, tourists, office workers, and visitors to Tokyo Dome City who seek an enjoyable seafood buffet experience in a comfortable and memorable setting.

Unlike typical buffet restaurants that focus mainly on quantity and efficiency, this design combines operational clarity with a strong spatial narrative. The central counter, layered materials, wave-like ceiling, and borrowed city view create a distinctive dining experience.

“Kaisen Viking Iroha” refers to a seafood buffet restaurant. “Kaisen” means seafood, “Viking” is commonly used in Japan to describe buffet-style dining, and “Iroha” suggests the basics or essence of Japanese culture.

The project was developed using architectural drawings, 3D visualization, material samples, lighting studies, and coordination drawings to verify circulation, atmosphere, and construction details.

The most unique aspect is the central buffet counter, which works both as an operational core and as a symbolic spatial element. It organizes guest movement while expressing the richness and abundance of the dining experience.

The project was developed in collaboration with the client, construction team, lighting consultants, kitchen equipment specialists, and photographers. Each specialist contributed to realizing both the design concept and practical restaurant operation.

Technology supported the design through 3D visualization, lighting simulation, and coordination of construction details. These tools helped verify the spatial atmosphere, guest flow, and technical feasibility before realization.

The design was influenced by research into guest circulation, buffet operation, seating efficiency, visibility, and the relationship between food display and customer behavior. Site analysis, including the surrounding views, also played an important role.

One of the main challenges was the elliptical floor plan, which made circulation and seating layout difficult. By placing the buffet counter at the center, we created a clear loop and transformed the challenging geometry into the identity of the space.

I decided to submit this project to an international design competition because I wanted to evaluate how a Japanese restaurant design, rooted in local dining culture and spatial storytelling, could be understood in a global context.

Through this project, I learned how important it is to balance concept, functionality, and emotional experience. A strong restaurant design must not only look beautiful, but also support operation, movement, comfort, and memory.

This project represents my belief that commercial interiors can be both strategic and poetic. By carefully designing circulation, material expression, lighting, and scenery, a restaurant can become more than a place to eat; it can become a memorable spatial experience.

My career in design did not begin through a straightforward path. I started my professional career within the Marui Group in Japan, initially working in retail before moving to AIM CREATE Co., Ltd., where I became involved in commercial space design.

My early experience on the operational and business side of retail became an important foundation for me as a designer. Before thinking about how a space should look, I learned to think about how customers move, how businesses operate, and how a physical environment influences human behavior.

Over the years, I have specialized mainly in commercial interiors, particularly restaurants, food halls, retail environments, and public-facing spaces. Through these projects, I have developed my design approach by working directly with clients, contractors, fabricators, and many other specialists.

I believe much of my design education has come from the reality of building spaces—observing people, understanding materials, solving constraints, and repeatedly seeing how drawings become actual environments.

What motivates me most is the possibility of changing how people feel through space.

Architecture and interior design surround people, often without them consciously noticing it. The height of a ceiling, the texture of a material, the direction of light, or even the distance between two seats can subtly influence emotion and behavior.

I find that fascinating.

Especially in commercial spaces, design also has to work as a business. A beautiful space that does not function properly is incomplete. I enjoy finding the point where experience, function, business, and beauty come together.

When someone enters a space I designed and instinctively slows down, looks around, takes a photograph, or simply feels comfortable without knowing exactly why, that is one of the most rewarding moments for me.

I chose to become a designer, although my path toward design was gradual rather than predetermined.

I began my career closer to retail operations and business, and through that experience I became increasingly interested in the environments themselves. I realized that space could influence not only how something looked, but also how people moved, communicated, stayed, and experienced a brand.

That realization gradually drew me toward design.

Looking back, I think starting outside the design profession was actually valuable. It allowed me to enter design with a perspective rooted in people and business rather than aesthetics alone. Even today, I try not to begin a project by asking, “What should this space look like?” I prefer to begin by asking, “What should happen here?”

My main field is commercial interior design. I work particularly with restaurants, food halls, retail environments, and spaces where many different people gather.

In the future, I would like to expand the scale of my work beyond individual interiors and become more involved in hospitality, mixed-use developments, and larger public or commercial environments.

What interests me is not simply increasing physical scale. Larger projects allow designers to think about sequences of experiences: how people approach, enter, discover, gather, stay, and leave. I would like to design not only individual rooms, but entire journeys through space.

I still consider myself to be developing as a designer, so I would hesitate to call myself a legend.

However, one thing I have learned is that designers should experience as much of the real world as possible. Visit buildings, restaurants, hotels, streets, factories, museums, and natural environments. Touch materials. Talk to craftspeople. Observe how people actually use spaces.

Images on a screen are useful, but design exists in physical reality.

I also believe young designers should not be afraid of constraints. Budget, schedule, regulations, construction methods, and client requirements can appear to limit creativity, but they often create the conditions for more original solutions.

A good designer can create an attractive solution. A great designer understands why that solution should exist.

I think the difference lies in the depth of observation and the ability to identify the essential question behind a project.

Great design is rarely about adding more. Often it is about discovering what truly matters, removing what is unnecessary, and expressing the remaining idea with clarity.

A great designer also understands that a project is created by many people. The ability to communicate an idea and bring clients, engineers, builders, craftspeople, and operators toward a shared goal is as important as the idea itself.

For me, a really good design feels inevitable once it is completed.

You look at it and feel that it could hardly have been another way.

I evaluate design through several perspectives: whether the concept responds to the actual problem, whether the space functions naturally, whether materials and details support the idea, and most importantly, how people behave within it.

If people naturally understand where to go, feel comfortable staying, become curious, or experience an emotion that the space intended to create, then the design is working.

Good design creates value beyond appearance.

In commercial environments, it can influence whether people enter, how long they stay, what they remember, whether they return, and how they perceive a brand.

But its value is also emotional. A thoughtfully designed place can make an ordinary meal feel special or transform waiting, walking, or gathering into a memorable experience.

Design is therefore not simply decoration or an additional cost. When integrated properly into a project, it becomes part of the experience, operation, identity, and long-term value of a business.

I would like to design places that become part of people's everyday memories.

Rather than designing exclusively for a particular type of client, I am interested in spaces used by many generations and backgrounds: hotels, public spaces, markets, restaurants, transportation environments, and places where communities naturally gather.

I am particularly interested in creating environments where ordinary daily activities can become slightly extraordinary.

One of my dream projects is to design a hotel or destination where architecture, interiors, food, landscape, art, and local culture are conceived as one continuous experience.

Hotels fascinate me because they contain many layers of human experience. People arrive, eat, rest, meet others, spend private time, and eventually leave with memories of the place.

I would like to create a destination where the design is not imposed on the location, but grows from its climate, materials, culture, food, and history.

If I have a secret ingredient, it is observation.

Before drawing, I try to observe the client, the users, the site, the business, and the constraints carefully.

The answer is often already hidden somewhere within the project.

I also try to maintain a balance between intuition and logic. An idea may begin intuitively, but I need to be able to explain why it belongs to that particular project. When intuition and reason support each other, a concept becomes much stronger.

I am inspired by designers and architects who create strong experiences without relying on excessive expression.

I am particularly interested in Japanese design culture, where material, light, shadow, craftsmanship, and emptiness can carry as much meaning as form itself.

At the same time, I try not to follow one particular designer too closely. Inspiration can come from architecture, art, nature, traditional craftsmanship, cities, restaurants, films, and everyday observations.

I am attracted to works where the concept is deeply integrated with material and spatial experience, rather than simply expressed as a visual motif.

I especially appreciate architecture where natural light, texture, proportion, and movement create emotion without requiring explanation.

The designs I remember most are often not those with the loudest visual impact, but those that remain in my memory as a feeling long after I have left the place.

At this stage of my career, Kaisen Viking Iroha is one of the projects that best represents my approach to design.

The project was based on the concept “Hospitality through Time and Space.” Rather than treating the buffet simply as a functional food counter, we positioned it as the heart of the experience.

At the center, a circular buffet installation composed of graduated timber elements expresses a transition inspired by the relationship between sea and land. Stone, bonsai, timber, and overhead aluminum elements were used to create a contemporary interpretation of Japanese hospitality.

What makes the project important to me is not a single visual element, but the way circulation, food presentation, materials, views, seating, and atmosphere work together to create the experience.

Design as much as possible, but also build as much as possible.

Seeing your own drawings become physical reality teaches lessons that cannot be learned from drawings alone. Dimensions feel different at full scale. Materials behave differently from renderings. Details that appear insignificant on paper can completely change the quality of a finished space.

I improved mainly through repetition: designing, building, observing what worked, recognizing what did not, and applying those lessons to the next project.

I would probably have been involved in business development or creating new services.

I enjoy thinking about why people choose something, how value is created, and how an idea becomes a viable business.

In that sense, design and business are not very far apart for me. Both begin with understanding people and creating a better response to their needs.

Design is the act of discovering the right relationship between people, purpose, place, and experience.

It is not simply about making things beautiful.

For me, design begins with understanding what should happen in a place, and then giving physical form to the conditions that allow that experience to happen naturally.

No design career is built by one person.

I have been supported by colleagues, clients, contractors, craftspeople, photographers, and many specialists who took my ideas seriously and helped transform them into reality.

I am also grateful to my family, who have supported the time and energy required by this profession.

Every completed project is the result of many people sharing responsibility for something that did not exist before.

Real projects helped me more than anything else.

Commercial design constantly confronts you with reality: limited budgets, short schedules, regulations, construction conditions, operational requirements, and unexpected problems.

Learning to protect the essential idea while responding flexibly to these realities has shaped me as a designer.

One of the biggest challenges was learning how to balance creativity with reality.

Early in my career, I sometimes thought a strong idea alone could carry a project. Experience taught me that an idea becomes meaningful only when it can survive budget, construction, operation, and time.

Rather than seeing these conditions as enemies of creativity, I gradually learned to use them as part of the design process.

A presentation should communicate not only what a project looks like, but why it exists.

Beautiful photography is important, especially for spatial design, but images alone cannot communicate the entire project.

I believe a strong presentation should clearly explain the problem, concept, process, and resulting experience. The goal is not to explain every detail, but to help someone understand the essential idea quickly and remember it.

I am currently expanding my work from individual restaurant and retail interiors toward larger commercial and public environments.

I am especially interested in projects where multiple functions and different groups of people coexist, such as food halls, hospitality environments, sports and leisure facilities, and larger mixed-use spaces.

In the future, I hope my work will increasingly explore the relationship between Japanese sensibility and contemporary commercial experience.

My ultimate goal is to create places that remain meaningful beyond trends and beyond my own name.

I would like people to remember the experience of a place even if they never know who designed it.

If a space becomes part of someone's memory, part of a city's identity, or a place that people naturally want to return to, I think that is a meaningful achievement for a designer.

I think people expect designers to see possibilities that are not immediately visible.

Clients often bring requirements or problems. The designer's responsibility is not simply to satisfy those requirements literally, but to understand what lies behind them and propose something that creates greater value.

A designer should bring a perspective that the project did not have before.

Design shapes everyday behavior.

It can make places easier to understand, more inclusive, more comfortable, more sustainable, and more enjoyable.

Large social change is important, but I also believe in small improvements. If design can make someone's everyday journey, meal, workplace, or gathering slightly better, those improvements accumulate across society.

I am currently involved in several projects that expand the scale and complexity of my work, including food hall and leisure-related environments.

What excites me is designing spaces where many different activities and people coexist rather than designing a single isolated interior.

These projects require thinking about circulation, visibility, gathering, commercial performance, architecture, and human experience simultaneously. That complexity is challenging, but it is also where I currently find the greatest opportunity to grow.

Kaisen Viking Iroha gave me a particularly strong sense of satisfaction because the concept survived the entire journey from initial idea to built reality.

Commercial projects inevitably change during design and construction. Maintaining the core idea while responding to those changes is difficult.

Seeing guests actually occupy the finished restaurant and experience the central buffet, views, materials, and atmosphere as one environment made the project especially meaningful to me.

I would like design to be evaluated more through long-term value rather than visual novelty alone.

Digital media naturally favors spaces that create immediate visual impact. That has value, but spatial design is experienced through time, movement, sound, touch, operation, and repeated use.

I hope the industry continues to develop ways of discussing these less visible qualities.

Technology will continue to accelerate design, particularly through AI, simulation, visualization, and fabrication.

As producing images and options becomes easier, I believe the value of designers will shift increasingly toward judgment: knowing which question matters, which option should be chosen, and why.

Technology can generate possibilities. Designers will still need to give those possibilities meaning.

It varies greatly depending on scale and complexity.

A commercial interior may develop from concept to completion within several months, while larger projects can continue for a year or more.

I do not think design is ever truly “finished” at the drawing stage. For spatial design, completion comes only after construction, when people begin using the place and we can finally see how the original ideas perform in reality.

I start by asking questions.

Why does this project exist? Who will use it? What does the client actually need? What is unique about the location? What should people feel when they are there?

I try not to draw too quickly.

Once the essential question becomes clear, the design usually begins to develop much more naturally.

“Start with what should happen, not what it should look like.”

Form is important, but form should be the result of a deeper intention.

I try to remember this whenever I begin a project.

Both influence each other, but I do not think designers should begin with trends.

Trends reveal changes in society, technology, and people's values, so they are worth understanding.

However, if a project begins only by following what is fashionable, it can quickly lose relevance. I prefer to understand the forces behind a trend and respond to those deeper changes.

Technology expands what we can test, communicate, and build.

Visualization helps clients understand spatial ideas before construction. Digital fabrication allows forms and details that would previously have been difficult to realize. AI is rapidly expanding the speed at which designers can explore possibilities.

However, I see technology as a tool rather than the purpose of design. The important question remains what experience we want to create and why.

My workflow combines drawing, 3D modeling, visualization, graphic communication, and physical material studies.

The specific software can change depending on the project, but I use digital tools to move repeatedly between plan, three-dimensional space, material, and presentation.

I also consider physical samples extremely important. No screen can completely reproduce the weight, texture, reflection, or warmth of a real material.

They are fundamental to how people emotionally read a space.

Material is particularly important to me because it carries information beyond appearance: temperature, age, weight, texture, craftsmanship, and even cultural memory.

In Kaisen Viking Iroha, for example, timber, stone, bonsai, metal, and light were not selected independently. Together they create a contemporary atmosphere rooted in Japanese hospitality.

I would be happy if people asked, “Why is it like this?”

That question goes beyond appearance.

If someone becomes curious about why a material changes, why a ceiling moves in a certain direction, why a seat faces a particular view, or why an object occupies a certain position, then they are beginning to discover the thinking behind the space.

My first reaction is usually emotional, but almost immediately I become curious about the reasoning behind it.

I ask myself why it feels good, what decision created that feeling, and whether the effect comes from proportion, material, detail, light, engineering, or something less obvious.

Great work makes me want to understand it.

Absolutely. Spatial design is inherently collaborative.

My ideal partners are people who have strong expertise but remain curious about perspectives outside their own field.

The best projects happen when architects, interior designers, engineers, craftspeople, artists, operators, and clients do more than protect their individual responsibilities and instead share a common intention.

Craftspeople and construction professionals have had a particularly strong influence on me.

They often understand materials in ways that drawings cannot communicate.

Conversations about how wood bends, how stone is supported, how metal is joined, or how something can actually be assembled frequently change my designs for the better.

Rather than one particular book defining my approach, I have been influenced by reading across architecture, business, art, Japanese culture, and human behavior.

I think designers benefit from reading outside the design field. Understanding economics, psychology, history, food, technology, or sociology can sometimes provide more useful insight into a project than another book of beautiful interiors.

Through repetition and reflection.

Every project becomes a test. You make decisions, build them, observe the results, and discover where your assumptions were correct or wrong.

I try to carry those lessons into the next project rather than simply repeating the same solution.

Over time, this creates something more valuable than a particular style: judgment.

I would like to speak with the anonymous craftspeople and builders behind historical Japanese architecture.

Many traditional spaces achieve extraordinary richness through relatively limited materials and technologies.

I would like to understand how they thought about proportion, material, climate, light, maintenance, and the passage of time—not as historical theory, but through the perspective of the people who actually made those places.

I am very grateful for recognition, but I do not think of myself as famous.

Awards are meaningful because they allow a project that was created for one particular place and client to be seen and discussed by people in other countries and cultures.

For me, recognition is less about status and more about creating opportunities: opportunities for the work to travel, for new conversations to begin, and for me to challenge myself with the next project.

My preferences change over time, but I am generally attracted to natural and subdued colors, places where nature and human activity coexist, and food that expresses the culture of its region.

I like autumn in Japan because of its light, temperature, colors, and seasonal food.

As for objects and brands, I am attracted less to a particular name than to things that are thoughtfully made, age well, and reveal the quality of their materials.

One thing that continues to amuse me is how different scale can feel between a drawing and reality.

Something that seems perfectly reasonable on a screen can suddenly feel enormous—or surprisingly small—when it appears on site.

These moments are humbling. No matter how much technology improves, standing in the actual space can still immediately teach you something that hours in front of a monitor could not.

A great day is when something that was unclear in the morning becomes clear by the end of the day.

It might be a concept, a detail, a material, or a solution to a difficult constraint.

Design involves spending a lot of time with unresolved questions. The moment when several problems suddenly connect into one simple answer is extremely satisfying.

Not at all.

I did not grow up with a clear plan to become a designer, and I think that is part of why I value my path.

My interest developed through actual experiences with people, retail, business, and eventually space.

Sometimes a career becomes clear only after you begin walking toward it.

It is almost impossible to imagine the technology of a thousand years from now.

However, I suspect that some fundamental human needs will remain surprisingly familiar.

People will still need places to gather, rest, eat, communicate, celebrate, remember, and feel that they belong somewhere.

The technologies and forms may be completely different, but design will probably still be concerned with one ancient question: how should human beings live together?

I do not think design needs to shout in order to be memorable.

I am interested in creating spaces where concept, function, material, craftsmanship, business, and human behavior come together naturally.

My career began not from a predetermined design path, but from observing people in the real world. I believe that background continues to shape the way I work today.

I am still learning with every project. I hope to continue expanding the scale and range of my work while keeping the same fundamental question at the center:

Not simply, “What should this look like?”

But, “What should happen here?”

If the answer to that question can become a place that people remember, return to, or make part of their everyday lives, then I believe the design has achieved something meaningful.

I did not originally plan to become an interior designer. After graduating from university, I joined Marui Group, one of Japan's leading retail companies. While working in retail operations, I became involved in renovation projects for commercial facilities. Seeing how thoughtfully designed spaces could transform customer experiences and improve business performance inspired me to pursue design professionally.

I later joined AIM CREATE Co., Ltd., where I have specialized in commercial interior design for restaurants, hospitality venues, retail environments, and food halls. Throughout my career, I have developed a design philosophy that integrates branding, operational efficiency, architectural quality, and emotional experience into a single spatial solution.

Today, I believe that great design is not simply about creating beautiful spaces. It is about creating places that positively influence people's emotions, behavior, and memories while helping businesses thrive.

I work at AIM CREATE Co., Ltd., a multidisciplinary design company specializing in commercial environments across Japan. Our projects include restaurants, cafés, department stores, food halls, offices, and mixed-use developments.

Our approach combines branding, architecture, interior design, and customer experience into a seamless design process. Rather than simply designing interiors, we help clients create environments that strengthen their brand identity and business value.

As a Chief Director in the Design Department, I lead projects from concept development through construction completion, working closely with clients, consultants, contractors, and multidisciplinary teams to transform ideas into built reality.

For me, design is the process of translating invisible values into tangible experiences.

Every client has a vision, every brand has a philosophy, and every place has its own story. My role as a designer is to weave these invisible elements into spaces that people can physically experience.

Good design is never decoration alone. It solves problems, creates emotional connections, supports business goals, and continues to create value long after trends have faded.

I am particularly passionate about designing restaurants and hospitality spaces because they bring together architecture, branding, operations, lighting, acoustics, circulation, and storytelling into a single experience.

Unlike many other building types, restaurants directly influence how people gather, communicate, celebrate, and create memories. I enjoy designing spaces where architecture becomes part of the dining experience rather than simply serving as a backdrop.

My favorite project is the Kaisen Viking Iroha Restaurant Interior, which received the Silver A' Design Award.

The project transformed a large-scale buffet restaurant into a refined dining environment inspired by the Japanese concept of Shakkei (borrowed scenery). Rather than treating the panoramic city view as something outside the building, we incorporated it into the spatial composition as an active design element.

A circular buffet forms the symbolic heart of the restaurant, while natural materials, carefully orchestrated lighting, and flowing ceiling elements create a calm yet dynamic atmosphere. The project reflects my belief that commercial interiors can be highly functional while remaining emotionally memorable.

One of the first things I designed professionally was a commercial restaurant space. Through that project, I learned that interior design is not only about creating an attractive appearance, but also about understanding operations, customer flow, kitchen functionality, construction costs, and business goals.

That early experience became an important foundation for my career. It taught me that good design must balance creativity and practicality.

I am especially attracted to natural materials such as wood and stone. These materials have depth, texture, and individuality, and they become richer over time. In commercial spaces, natural materials can create a sense of authenticity that cannot be achieved through superficial decoration alone.

I also value digital visualization tools, because they help clients and project members share the same vision before construction begins. However, I believe technology should support human experience, not replace it.

I feel most creative when I am observing everyday life. Walking through cities, visiting restaurants, traveling, seeing architecture, and watching how people behave in public spaces often give me inspiration.

For me, creativity does not always come from sitting at a desk and forcing ideas. It often comes from collecting small observations and allowing them to connect naturally over time.

I focus most on the relationship between people, movement, and experience.

Before deciding on shapes or materials, I try to understand how people will enter the space, where they will look first, how they will move, where they will pause, and what kind of memory they will take away.

I also pay close attention to operational efficiency, especially in restaurants and commercial facilities. A beautiful space that does not function well cannot be considered truly successful.

When I design, I feel both excitement and responsibility.

At the beginning of a project, there is always uncertainty, but I enjoy that uncertainty because it contains the possibility of discovery. As the concept becomes clearer, I feel a strong sense of focus and curiosity.

At the same time, I know that the spaces I design will become part of people's real lives and memories. That responsibility encourages me to create thoughtful and lasting design rather than temporary visual impact.

When a design is finally realized, I feel a deep sense of gratitude and fulfillment.

Design is never completed by one person alone. It is made possible through the trust of the client, the collaboration of many professionals, and the effort of builders and craftsmen. Seeing people actually use the completed space is always the most rewarding moment.

I feel especially happy when I see guests naturally enjoying the space in ways that go beyond what I imagined during the design process.

A design is successful when it creates value for both people and business.

For users, it should be comfortable, memorable, and meaningful. For clients, it should support their brand identity, improve operations, and contribute to long-term business success.

A successful design is not only beautiful at the moment of completion. It continues to work, evolve, and create value over time.

I first consider whether the design has a clear purpose.

A design may be visually impressive, but if it does not respond to the context, users, brand, or operational needs, it becomes superficial. I believe a good design should have a reason behind every decision.

I also consider whether the design creates a natural and memorable experience for users. Good design should feel inevitable, not forced.

Designers have a responsibility to create spaces that are not only attractive, but also meaningful, durable, and considerate toward society and the environment.

In commercial design, there is often a tendency to prioritize short-term visual impact. However, I believe designers should create spaces that can be loved and used for a long time. This reduces waste and creates deeper cultural and social value.

Designers also have the responsibility to respect local context, materials, culture, and human behavior, rather than applying the same visual trends everywhere.

I believe the design field is moving from visual styling toward experience creation and value translation.

In the past, design was often judged mainly by appearance. Today, however, design must respond to brand strategy, sustainability, technology, community, and emotional experience. Designers are expected to think across many disciplines.

The future of design will be less about making something look different, and more about making people's experiences richer, businesses more meaningful, and society more thoughtful.

Rather than exhibiting independently, my work is primarily experienced through completed commercial projects. Most recently, my project Kaisen Viking Iroha Restaurant Interior was internationally recognized with the Silver A' Design Award, introducing the project to a global audience.

In the future, I would like to participate in exhibitions that explore the relationship between commercial design, hospitality, and cultural identity. I believe exhibitions can become valuable platforms for sharing not only finished spaces but also the ideas and processes behind them.

My inspiration comes from observing how people interact with places.

I enjoy traveling, visiting restaurants, walking through cities, studying architecture, and spending time in nature. I pay close attention to how people move, gather, communicate, and experience spaces.

I also find inspiration in traditional Japanese aesthetics, especially concepts such as Shakkei (borrowed scenery), Ma (the beauty of intervals), and the relationship between architecture and nature. Rather than copying tradition, I try to reinterpret these timeless ideas in contemporary commercial environments.

I would describe my design approach as experience-driven, context-sensitive, and quietly expressive.

Rather than creating spaces that seek attention through excessive visual impact, I prefer to design environments where materials, light, circulation, and human behavior naturally work together.

Every project begins by understanding the client's vision, the site's characteristics, and the users' experience. I believe each project deserves its own identity rather than a signature style imposed by the designer.

I live and work in Japan, where the relationship between nature, craftsmanship, and everyday life has profoundly influenced my thinking.

Japanese culture values subtlety, restraint, material honesty, and respect for context. These qualities naturally appear in my work.

At the same time, working in Japan presents unique challenges. Commercial spaces often require high performance within limited budgets and tight schedules. Balancing craftsmanship with practical constraints has become an important part of my professional development.

I see my relationship with clients as a partnership rather than a service.

Instead of simply responding to requests, I try to understand the client's long-term vision, business strategy, brand values, and operational challenges.

By asking the right questions early in the process, we can often discover opportunities that were not initially visible. My goal is to become a trusted creative partner who contributes to both design quality and business success.

The best results come from trust and open communication.

Rather than asking only for a specific style or appearance, I encourage companies to share their vision, challenges, and long-term goals. When designers understand the purpose behind a project, they can create solutions that are far more meaningful than decoration alone.

When selecting a designer, I believe companies should look beyond portfolios and evaluate how the designer thinks, communicates, and solves problems.

My design process begins with listening.

I spend time understanding the client's objectives, studying the site, observing user behavior, and identifying both visible and hidden challenges.

Once I establish a clear concept, every design decision—from planning and circulation to materials, lighting, and detailing—is evaluated against that central idea.

I believe consistency is essential. Every element should contribute to one coherent experience.

Rather than iconic design objects, I appreciate items that improve everyday life through thoughtful design.

Some of my favorites include:

A well-crafted wooden dining table

A comfortable lounge chair

A quality kitchen knife

A simple ceramic coffee cup made by local artisans

Books on architecture and design that continue to inspire me

These are everyday objects, but they remind me that good design quietly enriches daily life.

Every day is different, but it usually begins by reviewing project progress and communicating with clients and team members.

Much of my day involves developing concepts, coordinating with consultants, reviewing drawings, visiting construction sites, and solving problems as projects evolve.

Outside of work, I enjoy spending time with my family, visiting inspiring places, and continuously observing the world around me. Those everyday experiences often become the foundation for future design ideas.

Don't begin by trying to create something original. Begin by trying to understand people.

Observe how people behave, ask questions, stay curious, and continue learning from every project. Originality is often the result of deep understanding rather than deliberate effort.

Most importantly, remember that design is not about expressing yourself. It is about improving someone else's experience.

The greatest reward of being a designer is the opportunity to shape people's experiences. A well-designed space can influence emotions, encourage communication, strengthen communities, and help businesses grow. Knowing that my work becomes part of someone's daily life is incredibly fulfilling.

At the same time, design is a profession with significant responsibility. Every project involves balancing creativity, budgets, schedules, regulations, and the expectations of many stakeholders. It is challenging, but I believe those challenges ultimately make both the project and the designer stronger.

My golden rule is simple: Every design decision should have a reason.

Whether it is the layout, materials, lighting, proportions, or details, every element should contribute to the overall concept and improve the user's experience. I try to eliminate unnecessary gestures and focus on decisions that create lasting value.

Creativity is important, but I believe observation, communication, and empathy are even more essential.

Designers must understand people before proposing solutions. They need to listen carefully, communicate ideas clearly, collaborate with diverse professionals, and remain curious throughout their careers.

The ability to continue learning may be the most valuable skill of all.

My toolbox includes both digital and analog methods.

I use AutoCAD and Rhinoceros for technical design, SketchUp and Enscape for visualization, Adobe Creative Suite for presentations, and physical sketches to quickly explore ideas.

However, my most valuable design tool is observation. Watching how people interact with spaces provides insights that no software can replace.

I begin every project by establishing priorities and defining the core concept as early as possible. Once the concept is clear, decision-making becomes much more efficient because every choice can be measured against the same objective.

I also believe that good collaboration saves time. Clear communication with clients, consultants, and contractors prevents misunderstandings later in the project.

The timeline depends entirely on the scale and complexity of the project.

A small renovation may take only a few months, while a large commercial project can require more than a year from concept development to completion.

Rather than focusing on speed, I focus on ensuring that every stage contributes meaningfully to the final result.

People often ask, "Where do your ideas come from?"

My answer is always the same: ideas do not appear suddenly. They are built through observation, experience, curiosity, and continuous learning. Inspiration is not a single moment—it is a habit.

Receiving international recognition through the Silver A' Design Award for the Kaisen Viking Iroha Restaurant Interior has been one of the most significant milestones in my career.

The project demonstrated that a design rooted in Japanese culture could resonate with an international audience. It also strengthened my confidence to continue pursuing design that combines local identity with global relevance.

Throughout my career, I have worked with clients across the retail, hospitality, food service, and commercial development sectors in Japan.

Rather than focusing on a particular industry, I enjoy collaborating with organizations that seek to create meaningful customer experiences through thoughtful design.

I particularly enjoy projects where architecture, branding, business strategy, and user experience intersect.

The most rewarding projects are those that require creating not only a beautiful space but also a memorable identity that supports a client's long-term vision.

I hope to continue expanding my work internationally while deepening my expertise in commercial and hospitality design.

In the future, I would like to work on projects that integrate architecture, branding, and cultural storytelling across different countries. My long-term goal is to establish a design practice that creates meaningful experiences beyond national borders.

Every successful project is a collaborative effort.

While I lead the design concept and overall direction, I work closely with clients, architects, engineers, lighting designers, contractors, and many other specialists. I believe great design emerges when different perspectives are brought together around a shared vision.

I am currently involved in several commercial projects that explore new relationships between architecture, branding, and user experience.

Although I cannot discuss the details yet, many of these projects continue my interest in creating spaces that combine operational excellence with memorable emotional experiences.

The best way to connect with me is through my professional profile, my company, or my official social media channels. I always welcome conversations about design, collaboration, and opportunities to create meaningful spaces together.

I believe design has the power to connect people, cultures, and businesses.

As designers, we are not simply creating objects or spaces—we are shaping experiences that become part of people's memories. I hope my work continues to demonstrate that commercial environments can be functional, emotionally engaging, culturally meaningful, and socially valuable at the same time.

I am grateful for every opportunity to learn, collaborate, and contribute through design, and I look forward to creating spaces that inspire people around the world.

The turning point came during the earliest site visits. Most restaurant projects begin by focusing on the interior envelope itself, but in this case, I was repeatedly drawn to the panoramic view of Tokyo Dome City visible from the upper floor location. I realized that the cityscape was not simply a backdrop; it already possessed movement, scale, light, and seasonal variation. Rather than competing with that richness through decorative interior elements, I believed the design should frame and amplify it.This realization led to the concept of treating the surrounding urban scenery as an active component of the dining experience. In traditional Japanese aesthetics, the principle of borrowed scenery allows external landscapes to become part of a composed environment. I wanted to reinterpret this idea within a contemporary commercial setting. Every major design decision that followed was influenced by this approach.The seating layout was carefully organized to maximize visual access to the exterior view while preserving moments of intimacy. Material selections were intentionally restrained, allowing the city beyond the glass to remain visually prominent. The circular buffet was positioned as the spatial heart of the restaurant, creating a calm foreground against which the dynamic urban scenery could unfold. Lighting strategies were designed to reduce reflections and visual noise, ensuring that the changing atmosphere of Tokyo Dome City remained visible throughout the day and evening.Ultimately, the project was not about creating an isolated interior. It was about creating a dialogue between architecture, city, food, and people. The view became part of the spatial composition, transforming dining into an experience connected to a larger urban landscape.

Buffet restaurants often struggle with two conflicting requirements: they must accommodate a large number of guests while still providing a comfortable and memorable dining experience. During the planning phase, I observed that many buffet environments become fragmented because circulation is treated merely as a functional necessity rather than as a design opportunity.The circular buffet counter was conceived as the organizational core of the entire restaurant. Instead of placing food stations along walls or creating multiple disconnected islands, I wanted a single spatial element that could unify movement, orientation, and visual identity. The circular geometry naturally encourages continuous circulation, reducing congestion while allowing guests to navigate intuitively without excessive signage or guidance.Beyond operational efficiency, the buffet counter became an experiential device. As guests move around it, they continuously discover different food presentations, seating zones, and views toward Tokyo Dome City. This creates a rhythm of exploration rather than a simple sequence of consumption. The result is an environment that feels calm despite its scale, transforming a high-capacity dining venue into a more immersive and spatially engaging experience.

The material palette was developed around the idea that hospitality spaces should become richer through time rather than deteriorate from use. In many commercial dining environments, materials are selected primarily for maintenance efficiency. While durability was important, I wanted materials that could also communicate a sense of permanence and cultural depth.Natural stone was chosen because it embodies geological time. Its textures, variations, and imperfections remind us that beauty often emerges through long processes of formation. End-grain wood carries a similar narrative. By exposing the growth rings and structural history of the tree, the material reveals the passage of time rather than concealing it.These materials were particularly meaningful within the context of a buffet restaurant. Buffet dining is sometimes perceived as casual or temporary, but I believed the format deserves the same level of dignity and spatial care as fine dining environments. Through the use of stone and wood, the restaurant expresses a respect for food, craftsmanship, and gathering. The materials encourage guests to slow down, observe details, and engage with the space through multiple senses rather than simply consume a meal and leave.

I believe contemporary restaurant interiors have the potential to contribute far more than operational performance or visual appeal. Restaurants are among the most democratic forms of public space. They bring together people from different backgrounds, generations, and purposes within a shared environment. Because of this, hospitality design carries an important social responsibility.With Kaisen Viking Iroha, I wanted to explore how spatial design could create emotional value beyond dining itself. The project demonstrates that commercial efficiency and experiential richness do not need to be opposing objectives. Through careful integration of circulation, materiality, lighting, and urban context, a restaurant can become a place of reflection, discovery, and connection.Receiving the Silver A' Design Award reinforced my belief that hospitality spaces can contribute meaningfully to cultural conversations. The recognition also places a responsibility on designers to move beyond trends and pursue solutions that create lasting value. In the future, I hope hospitality design will be evaluated not only by aesthetics or operational metrics, but also by its capacity to enrich human experience and strengthen relationships between people, place, and community.

The greatest challenge was achieving visual openness while simultaneously supporting the operational demands of a large-scale buffet environment. These goals often conflict with one another. Open spaces can easily become visually chaotic when serving high volumes of guests, while highly controlled layouts can feel restrictive and diminish the sense of freedom associated with buffet dining.The critical question became how to maintain clarity without imposing excessive order. The solution emerged through the integration of circulation planning and spatial hierarchy. Rather than separating operational considerations from design decisions, we treated them as a single problem. The central buffet, carefully positioned seating zones, and layered visual boundaries were developed together.This challenge ultimately strengthened the project. It forced us to think beyond conventional planning methods and focus on how guests actually experience movement, orientation, and comfort. Many of the spatial characteristics that define the restaurant today—including its calm atmosphere, intuitive circulation, and balanced openness—are direct results of navigating this tension.

My design process rarely begins with form. Instead, it begins with relationships. For this project, I studied how circulation, views, material perception, lighting conditions, and operational requirements could influence one another rather than exist as separate design layers.The first step was understanding movement. Once circulation patterns were established, seating arrangements and sightlines could be developed. Material selections then reinforced these spatial intentions by creating visual anchors and tactile points of interest. Lighting was introduced not as a final decorative layer but as a tool to reveal material qualities and strengthen spatial depth.What makes such projects complex is that every decision affects multiple systems simultaneously. A change in lighting influences perception of materials. A modification to circulation alters how views are experienced. Throughout the process, I continuously evaluated these relationships and refined them until they supported a unified experience.The goal was never to make guests aware of this complexity. Successful hospitality design feels natural and effortless. When visitors intuitively understand where to go, feel comfortable in the environment, and remain engaged throughout their visit, the underlying complexity has been successfully transformed into simplicity.

Kaisen Viking Iroha reinforced my belief that context should be treated as a design resource rather than a constraint. Too often, buildings are designed as isolated objects. This project demonstrated the value of integrating environmental conditions, circulation systems, and material narratives into a unified spatial strategy.In future projects, I intend to continue developing research-based methodologies that begin with human behavior and contextual understanding rather than stylistic preferences. I am particularly interested in exploring how commercial environments can generate stronger emotional connections while maintaining operational efficiency.Looking ahead, I hope to investigate broader dimensions of human experience, including memory, anticipation, and collective participation. Hospitality spaces have the potential to influence how people interact, celebrate, and remember moments together. By designing environments that support these experiences, architecture can become more than a physical setting; it can become a meaningful part of people's lives.

One of the most important discoveries from this project was realizing that people often perceive comfort through clarity rather than through luxury. During the design process, I observed that guests feel more relaxed when they can easily understand a space, anticipate their next movement, and maintain visual connections with their surroundings.This insight influenced many decisions that may appear subtle but have significant behavioral effects. The circular circulation system reduces uncertainty. The visibility of the buffet encourages exploration. The relationship between interior space and exterior scenery creates a sense of orientation and openness.What surprised me most was how strongly environmental legibility influences emotional experience. When guests do not need to consciously think about navigation or decision-making, they become more attentive to conversation, food, and social interaction. In that sense, good hospitality design is often less about creating extraordinary moments and more about removing unnecessary friction so meaningful moments can emerge naturally.

The lighting concept was developed around the idea of revealing rather than decorating. Because the project relied heavily on natural materials such as stone and wood, I wanted light to emphasize texture, depth, and material authenticity rather than create dramatic visual effects.Indirect lighting became the primary strategy. By allowing light to interact with surfaces before reaching the eye, the space gains a greater sense of depth and calmness. This approach also reduced visual fatigue and helped maintain a comfortable atmosphere throughout extended dining periods.Perhaps the most counterintuitive decision was deliberately avoiding excessive brightness around the buffet itself. In many commercial environments, key functional zones are illuminated as brightly as possible. Instead, we focused on balanced contrast. This allowed food presentations to remain clear while preserving the overall atmosphere of the restaurant. The result is a lighting environment that supports operational requirements without sacrificing emotional quality.

User behavior analysis played a significant role in shaping the final design. Rather than viewing circulation as a technical requirement, I approached movement as a fundamental component of the dining experience itself.Research into buffet behavior revealed several recurring patterns. Guests frequently pause to evaluate options, retrace their routes, and gather information before making decisions. Conventional layouts often create bottlenecks because circulation paths intersect or terminate abruptly. To address this, the circular buffet was developed as a continuous movement system that allows guests to navigate at their own pace.This research influenced not only the layout but also the atmosphere. Seating areas were organized to balance activity and calmness. Materials were selected to create visual stability around areas of movement. Views toward Tokyo Dome City were incorporated as orientation references, helping guests maintain spatial awareness.As a result, circulation became more than movement between destinations. It became part of the experience itself. Guests continuously encounter food, people, materials, and scenery in a fluid sequence, creating a dining environment that feels intuitive, engaging, and memorable while remaining highly efficient from an operational perspective.