An engineer, an artist, a designer

During his student days, he was part of the manga club. We spoke with Shunji Yamanaka, who expands the possibilities of design by traversing the boundary between technology and art.

We research thoroughly

People might think designers just start sketching ideas right away, but actually, sketching comes much later. We research thoroughly first.

To create things with new ideas, I believe you must be thoroughly familiar with the underlying technology, living spaces, manufacturing methods, and such. That's why we visit factories, conduct market research, and actually use the products. Factory visits are particularly valuable; you really come to understand why things have taken their current form. There's a core element, the essence of the technology. Once you find that part, you can see where changes are possible.

For example, product designer Yoshio Akioka wrote in an essay that bowls rarely exceed 12 cm in diameter. Why? Because the basic way to hold one is by pinching it between your thumb and middle finger on both sides. Sizes larger than that just don't work well for soup bowls. Dimensions and shapes are often determined by this kind of interaction between people and objects.

Even when drawing, I don't start with the appearance; I think about how to position the elements. For example, if a display and buttons are required, I consider where they should ideally be placed for optimal functionality. The core of beauty lies in such spatial structures; when the functional structure is optimized, it naturally leads to something beautiful.

After understanding existing things this way, I also think about how to break away from them, or what happens if you remove this function.

The Meaning of Building Robots

Around 2000, when walking robots were becoming popular, I thought, "What if we designed a robot as a quieter, more intelligent presence?" So I created "Cyclops," a robot that simply twists its body to look when reacting to human movement. It was quite well-received, exhibited at the National Museum of Emerging Science and Innovation in Japan, became part of the permanent collection at the Ars Electronica Center museum in Austria, and was displayed at the Chubu Millennium Village at the Aichi Expo. While robots already exist to replace our labor, when considering a future where robots become more familiar, I thought it was crucial for them to appear as if they were thinking – as if they had a brain – or to look like living creatures. So, I wondered what elements would make them appear that way.

We also create robots with researchers to convey new visions. I thought that by considering the robot's structure, we might glimpse something of the future. These are closer to art pieces and also serve to pose questions.

About half my work involves creating one-of-a-kind pieces. It's half and half with mass-produced items. However, as an engineer, I'm always thinking about how to engage with new technologies while creating, so that aspect might be slightly different from pure art.

The Job of a Designer

I believe a designer is someone who designs the relationship between people and artifacts, or artificial environments. It doesn't matter if they're an engineer or an artist, but they need to be a hybrid human capable of considering everything all at once.

For example, a conductor must be proficient with all instruments. It's professionalism as an integrator. Even if they can't match a specialist performer, someone who says, "I only know taiko drums," can't be a conductor, right?

I call the integration of technology, artistic elements, and everything else "design." It involves consciously switching back and forth within myself between various phases—function, construction, people's impressions, usage—gradually refining things into something better.

The creative process in art and the way engineers arrive at solutions are fundamentally different. The former is subjective and inward-focused, ultimately aiming for shared resonance. The latter is objective and experiment-driven, striving to eliminate personal bias for precise answers. You can't do both simultaneously. Mixing them means you can't pursue function properly and end up with only compromises. So, without compromising, you sharpen each approach and search for that serendipitous meeting point. It's about whether we can find that incredibly stylish spot that's also functionally perfect.

Hand, Paper, and Brain

For me, drawing manga during my university days was incredibly significant. Manga involves drawing absolutely everything, right? The story, the characters, the coffee cups that appear, the streets—you draw it all. That sensibility forms the foundation of my design work.

Also, cylinders are incredibly common in man-made objects. If you can't draw circles or ellipses well, you can't connect them to ideas, so you need to be able to sketch them smoothly and naturally. For example, when thinking about complex structures like interlocking rotating parts, being able to draw them without hesitation becomes the foundation for idea generation.

There's a loop between my hand, the paper, and my brain—it feels like part of my thought process. To manipulate structures, mechanisms, layouts, and three-dimensional space, I need to capture them as notes on a two-dimensional plane. This is integral to the entire design process.

In that sense, I do feel like I'm doing what I wanted to do back then. Though, back then I was drawing baseball manga, and now I only draw mecha (laughs).