Interviews with Hiroto Nakamura

I’ve enjoyed making things since I was a child, although I didn’t seriously study art or design until university. It was there that I discovered my interest in interior and furniture design. Through various projects and exhibitions in Japan and abroad, I realized how rewarding design can be—not only as a way to create beautiful objects but also to communicate ideas and solve problems. More recently, I’ve become interested in drawing inspiration from nature, materials, and everyday life. I’m excited to continue exploring new ideas and developing my own design approach.

I especially enjoy designing furniture and interior-related works. I’m interested in creating designs inspired by nature, materials, and everyday life. I like exploring the characteristics of different materials and translating simple observations into functional and meaningful designs. What I find most rewarding is creating objects that people can interact with and experience in their daily lives.

My favorite design is the lighting project I created most recently. In my previous work, I mainly designed with visible materials such as wood and metal. With this project, I wanted to challenge myself by working with something invisible air as both the theme and the material. The project explores how an invisible element can shape the form and experience of an object. By using air to form the lighting, I was able to rethink the relationship between material, form, and perception. This project is especially meaningful to me because it pushed me beyond my previous approach to design and encouraged me to explore new possibilities.

My most recent exhibition was at SaloneSatellite 2026 during Milan Design Week, where I presented my latest lighting project. It was a great opportunity to share my work with an international audience and receive feedback from designers, manufacturers, and visitors from different backgrounds. The experience broadened my perspective and encouraged me to continue exploring new ideas. For my next exhibition, I’d like to present a new series of works that further explore the relationship between nature, materials, and invisible phenomena. I hope to exhibit internationally again and continue engaging with people from different cultures through my designs.

My inspiration mainly comes from nature, materials, and everyday life. I enjoy observing small details that people often overlook, such as the texture of natural materials, the way light changes throughout the day, or how people interact with objects and spaces.I also like experimenting with materials because I often discover new ideas through the making process. Rather than starting with a fixed solution, I prefer to explore different possibilities through sketches, prototypes, and hands-on experimentation. I think creativity comes from staying curious and paying attention to ordinary experiences. Those everyday observations often become the starting point for my designs.

I would describe my design approach as material-driven and inspired by everyday observations. Rather than starting with a specific form, I usually begin by exploring materials, natural phenomena, or small moments in daily life that spark my curiosity.Through research and experimentation, I try to understand the unique qualities of a material and how people might experience it. This often leads to unexpected ideas and new ways of thinking about furniture or objects.I aim to create designs that are simple and functional while also encouraging people to notice something they might otherwise overlook. I hope my work offers not only practical value but also a new perspective on the relationship between people, materials, and nature.

The project originally began as an exploration of how to visualize air. Air is always around us, yet we rarely notice its presence because it is invisible. I was interested in making this invisible element perceptible through design. As I developed the project, however, my perspective gradually changed. Instead of simply visualizing air, I began to ask whether air itself could become the force that generates form. Through a series of experiments with air pressure, I realized that air was not just a medium but an active material capable of shaping the object itself. That realization fundamentally changed the direction of my research. Rather than imposing a predetermined form, I started designing a process in which the behavior of air could influence the final shape. This shift allowed me to move beyond designing with materials to designing through a natural phenomenon. For me, Airom Lamp is not just a lighting object—it is an exploration of how an invisible element can redefine our understanding of materiality and form.

One of my goals with Airom Lamp was to transform the user from a passive consumer into an active participant in the design. By inflating the lamp with air, the user helps create its final form, making each piece unique through their own interaction. I believe this process creates a stronger emotional connection with the object. Rather than simply using a finished product, people become part of its creation, and that experience gives the lamp a more personal meaning. I’m also interested in the imagination that the organic shape can inspire. Just as people look at clouds and each person sees something different, I hope the form of the lamp encourages individual interpretation. There is no single correct shape or meaning. Instead, the lamp leaves room for each person to discover their own associations, memories, or emotions. I hope this changes the way people relate not only to the object but also to the spaces they inhabit. Instead of seeing lighting as a purely functional product, I want it to become something that invites interaction, imagination, and a deeper awareness of our everyday environment.

Tracing paper was essential to the concept because of its unique combination of delicacy and functionality. I chose tracing paper because I wanted to create a soft, diffused quality of light. Its translucency gives the lamp a gentle presence that complements the concept of air. Once I selected the material, the challenge became how to allow such a delicate material to change shape while remaining structurally stable. To preserve the organic form of the lamp, I intentionally avoided using an internal frame inside the shade. Instead, I focused on developing the connections between each paper component. Through extensive prototyping, I found that using two different types of adhesive allowed the joints to be both strong and flexible. This means that even though the shade changes shape when it is inflated with air, the structure can accommodate those movements without losing its integrity. Rather than resisting deformation, the construction is designed to adapt to it. This process taught me that structural stability does not always come from rigid reinforcement. Sometimes, it comes from understanding the behavior of a material and designing a system that works with its natural properties rather than against them. I think this idea is central to Airom Lamp.

I didn’t intentionally set out to create a design that represented Okinawa. Looking back, I think the influence of Okinawa appeared naturally through my everyday experiences there. Living in Okinawa, I was constantly surrounded by expansive skies and clouds that changed shape throughout the day because of the strong sunlight, humidity, and the sea. Those scenes became part of my daily life, and I think they unconsciously shaped the way I think about form and transformation. When I started developing Airom Lamp, the idea of a soft, organic form that continuously changes felt very natural to me. It was only later that I realized this way of thinking had been influenced by the landscape I had been living in. At the same time, I found that the structure of traditional Japanese paper balloons provided an ideal way to realize that idea. I wasn’t interested in reproducing a traditional object, but in learning from its logic—how air can transform a flat surface into a three-dimensional form. I think the project became possible because these two influences came together naturally: my everyday experience of Okinawa’s landscape and the structural wisdom of Japanese craft. They gave the design a sense of authenticity that I don’t think I could have achieved from a more abstract starting point.

I believe one aspect that resonated with the jury was that Airom Lamp treats air not only as a material but also as an experience. Air is involved from the very beginning of the interaction. The user inflates the lamp by hand, creating its final form, but the experience doesn’t end there. Once the lamp is placed in a living space, it continues to respond to its surroundings. A breeze coming through an open window or airflow from an air conditioner gently moves the shade, so the lamp doesn’t only emit light—it also moves with the invisible air around it. In that sense, I wasn’t only designing a lighting object. I was also designing the experience of living with air. The lamp makes people aware of something that is normally invisible and encourages them to notice how natural phenomena become part of everyday life. Receiving the A’ Design Award reinforced my belief that innovation in lighting design is not only about new technologies or aesthetics. It can also come from creating new relationships between people, materials, and the environment, transforming an everyday object into an experience.

I don’t think there was a moment when I felt I had completely controlled air. In fact, that was never my goal. The turning point came when I realized that I didn’t need to control air itself. Instead, I needed to design a structure that could respond to its behavior. During the prototyping process, I experimented with different paper constructions and adhesive combinations until I found a system that was both flexible and stable. By intentionally avoiding an internal frame and carefully designing the joints, the shade could expand, deform, and move while maintaining its overall integrity. At that point, I stopped thinking of air as something unpredictable that had to be controlled. Instead, it became a collaborator in the design process. That experience changed the way I approach design. Rather than forcing materials or natural phenomena into a predetermined form, I’m more interested in creating systems that allow their inherent characteristics to emerge. For me, the innovation of Airom Lamp lies not in controlling air, but in designing with it.

Looking back on Airom Lamp, I originally thought I was designing a product that used air as a material. Now I realize that I was actually designing the experience of interacting with air. This realization has also changed the way I think about the relationship between designers and users. By allowing users to shape the final form, the object becomes more personal, and they become part of the creative process. At the same time, I don’t believe the designer should simply hand over all creative decisions to the user. If everything is left open, it could also be seen as the designer stepping away from the responsibility of design. What interests me is expanding the boundary between the designer and the user by exploring the space between these two extremes. I want to design frameworks that invite participation while still expressing a clear design intention. For me, the role of the designer is not to control every outcome, nor to leave everything open, but to carefully shape the conditions in which meaningful experiences can emerge. This way of thinking also influences how I approach nature. Rather than incorporating natural phenomena directly into my work, I want to learn from them. Nature offers countless hints about transformation, movement, and relationships, and I hope to translate those observations into new design approaches rather than simply imitating natural forms. Looking ahead, I hope to continue creating work that is not defined by a fixed final form, but instead evolves through the relationship between people, materials, and the environment. For me, the future of design lies not only in creating objects, but in designing meaningful experiences and expanding the possibilities of how people engage with them.

The original idea for this project began with a simple question: How can we make air visible? Air is physically invisible, and in our daily lives we rarely think about it. Yet it is always present and absolutely essential to our existence. Looking back, I now feel that Airom Lamp became more than a product made with air. It became a design for experiencing something that is normally transparent in our everyday lives. By interacting with the lamp shaping it with air and watching it gently respond to the surrounding airflow—people become aware of a presence that is usually overlooked. What interests me is how design can give form to things that we normally cannot perceive. Rather than simply creating an object, I want to make invisible relationships perceptible and encourage people to notice the unnoticed. In that sense, Airom Lamp is an attempt to transform something transparent in everyday life into something we can consciously experience. Ultimately, I hope the project encourages people to see ordinary experiences from a new perspective. For me, that is the deepest meaning of the work and the message I most want to communicate.

At first, I considered defining the fully inflated shape as the ideal or “finished” form of the lamp. However, I realized that if I did so, every other state—when the lamp contained less air—would inevitably appear incomplete or less beautiful. In our daily lives, we often associate beauty with perfection. When a pristine object is scratched or its shape changes, we tend to see it as damaged or diminished. I wanted to question that assumption. Instead of designing a single perfect state, I wanted every stage of transformation to have its own beauty. That is why I intentionally crumpled the tracing paper before assembling the shade. The wrinkles prevent the lamp from being defined by one ideal form and allow it to remain visually compelling whether it is fully inflated or only partially expanded. They also enrich the character of the lamp, creating subtle variations in the light and giving the object a sense of warmth and depth that a perfectly smooth surface could never achieve. More broadly, this reflects how I think about design. I am less interested in creating a fixed image of perfection than in creating objects that remain meaningful as they change. For me, beauty is not a single finished moment—it is something that can exist throughout the entire process of transformation.

One thing I learned from developing Airom Lamp is that participation should have a purpose. Simply allowing users to change a product is not enough. Their actions should contribute to the concept of the design and deepen their relationship with the object. In Airom Lamp, inflating the shade is not just a functional step for assembly. It is a way for people to experience air as a material and become aware of something that is normally invisible. The interaction exists because it supports the idea behind the project, not because it is interactive for its own sake. I also think it is important to find the right balance between the designer and the user. I am interested in expanding the boundary between them, but not removing it entirely. The designer should provide a clear concept, structure, and direction, while leaving meaningful room for people to participate and interpret the work in their own way. Since I am still early in my own career, I don’t think I am in a position to give definitive advice. However, one thing this project has taught me is that if you want to design with human participation, you need to be both a designer and a user. When we spend a long time designing, it is easy to become trapped in the mindset of a designer. We begin to think about concepts, functions, and details, and can gradually lose the fresh perspective of someone encountering the work for the first time. I realized how important it is to keep that sense of curiosity and empathy—to continue experiencing the work as a user as well as creating it as a designer. I believe the most meaningful experiences emerge when a designer can move between these two perspectives. By thinking both as the creator and as the person who will ultimately live with the object, we can design interactions that feel more natural, intuitive, and emotionally engaging.