First appearance in Dentsu Inc. News in 5 years! 10,000-word interview We asked Michihiko Yanai of "Kaze to Rock" what he's thinking about during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Iguchi: Hey there, it's Iguchi. CRAFTPR Laboratory here! So yeah, I kinda slacked off on the serialization... Got called out from all sides like, "Hey, isn't this just serialization fraud?"...

Hashimoto: Well, it wasn't exactly slacking off, but... we'll take all the criticism as a sign of anticipation and stay positive. That said, our lab director—who calls himself a micromanager—was pretty good at kicking our butts into gear (laughs). He contacted Mr. Yanai right after we got called out.

Iguchi: Yeah, that's true (laughs). By the way, if I may offer an excuse, the "LIONS GOOD NEWS 2020" site—which serves as our strategic thinking database archive and was introduced last time—won awards from FWA, awwwards, and CSS Design Awards, and received quite a bit of recognition. To name a few: domestically, the Good Design Award; internationally, the "Best of the Best" at the Red Dot Award—one of the world's three major design awards, where only under 1% of nearly 20,000 entries win. We were pretty busy handling all that.

Oh, and with the pandemic limiting who could travel, Iguchi actually went all the way to Nagoya himself to handle the panel displays. It was like we were completely self-sufficient, though that's not quite the right word. But ultimately, taking responsibility to the very end is what matters most. That's where the results come from.

Hashimoto: Well, it's all in how you phrase it.

Iguchi: With that excuse ready, and based on the logic of "LIONS GOOD NEWS," we also successfully wrapped up our work for Tokyo University of the Arts, the "Tokyo Geidai Art Festival 2021," where we assisted in various ways. Following that connection, this time we're talking to Michihiko Yanai, professor at Tokyo University of the Arts and the overall producer of this project, who is also well-known to everyone as the man behind "Kaze to Rock."

We'll cover a wide range of topics, including what Mr. Yanai is thinking about during this pandemic, his recent projects, and his perspective on work.

Hashimoto: My Drill Inc. mentor from my days at Dentsu Inc. and Tatsuya Hamashima of Hamashima Design—who is also a lecturer at Tokyo University of the Arts and joined us here—thank you very much! Michihiko-san's insights are packed with hints that could be useful for our work. It's quite a substantial read, so feel free to spread it out over a couple of days. But honestly, my biggest takeaway lately is that I really need to be more consistent about submitting my articles.

■About Michihiko Yanai

After working at Hakuhodo, Michihiko Yanai became independent in 2003 and established his own office, "Kaze to Rock." His activities extend far beyond advertising. He continues to be active in diverse fields, including the appearance of his own rock band, "Inawashirokozu," on NHK's Kohaku Uta Gassen, his challenge as a film director, and the establishment of the community FM station "Shibuya no Radio."
 

In 2015, he was appointed Creative Director for his home prefecture of Fukushima, spearheading regional revitalization efforts. The "Kaze to Rock Imoni Party," held annually in the area since 2009, reached its 12th year in 2021. Despite the constraints of holding the event during the pandemic, they implemented a 72-hour streaming broadcast utilizing online media like YouTube, encouraging participation from across Japan.
 

Additionally, at Tokyo University of the Arts, where he has served as Professor in the Design Department of the Faculty of Fine Arts since 2016, he launched the online art festival " Tokyo Geidai Art Fest 2021 " this year under a special presidential mandate. This initiative created a platform for young artists, whose opportunities had been severely limited by the pandemic, to showcase their work and receive support. Though Mr. Yanai may appear to follow his own path, the foundation of his communication lies in a meticulous approach and conviction: carefully observing each individual, imagining their reactions, and adjusting accordingly.
https://michihikoyanai.com/

Everyone finally discovered "what can only be done online"

──First, what was the biggest change you personally felt during the pandemic?

Looking beyond my personal experience, the word I kept seeing and hearing everywhere was "division." While terms like "social distancing" exist, it wasn't just about physical separation—I felt countless invisible lines had been drawn across society. Lines of ideology, lines of inequality... I already regret starting with such a heavy topic (laughs). I never imagined human relationships would become so fractured.

Then, of course, there's online. Online life remains central even now. It entered our lives and work as an emergency measure, a substitute for meeting in person. But with it lasting this long, while there's definitely online fatigue, I also feel that surprisingly, everyone has gotten quite good at communicating online.

It's not like our first choice is face-to-face and our second is online. Instead, everyone has finally started discovering "things only possible online." There's an element of "it all worked out in the end" to that. Events like the "Geidai Art Fest 2021" and the "Wind and Rock Imoni Gathering" we'll talk about today are examples. Things that wouldn't have been possible last year are gradually becoming achievable. It's not driven by a "Let's try something new!" spirit, but rather, under the circumstances of being "forced into it," new forms of communication have naturally emerged through human resilience. So, while I'm mostly glad the state of emergency was lifted, I find myself strangely thinking, "Wow, now I have to actually attend all these things in person... the travel time..." (laughs).

──Considering that physical distance too, what do you find enjoyable about online interactions, Mr. Yanai?

I somehow ended up serving as Vice President of the Tokyo Copywriters Club. Every year, new award-winning freshmen join, and we held their welcome party online. What struck me was how incredibly rare it is for people to face each other like this, to look into each other's eyes and talk one-on-one. Seeing everyone's faces at once, the speaker instantly becoming the center of attention – I thought that was amazing.

On the other hand, I was talking with a photographer who said online meetings leave him exhausted after just an hour. You read so much from people's expressions, and there's a huge amount of information packed into those expressions that you have to process. And it's not just one person; right now, I'm facing four people simultaneously.

While the photographer said it was exhausting, I find the vastly increased information intake in online settings fascinating. For example, the Tokyo University of the Arts Art Festival I helped with—an exhibition where art and music coexist—offered new experiences and perspectives that would be impossible to achieve in person. I can't predict how this will evolve, but I believe it will give birth to things that never existed before and spark new encounters like chemical reactions. One judge highly praised the Art Festival. They mentioned being so busy that they could view it bit by bit, at their own pace, spread out over days. I imagine that wouldn't have been possible without online.

──Online meetings and work really are exhausting when you do them properly, aren't they? Iguchi thought it was because his PC screen was bad (laughs). It's the sheer volume of information your brain has to process that tires you out.

I feel that too. Even now, I'm processing multiple things simultaneously: "Hashimoto-kun is drinking water from a plastic bottle," "I wonder what brand it is?" and "Professor Hamashima is watching calmly." Everyone has gotten quite used to it now, and we can finally have small talk before things start. It's an hour where we only talk about what's necessary, so it's intense in its own way. But we've missed out on so much over the past year that only comes from casual conversation, so it's good we can do that again.

I also teach classes with Professor Hamashima at the Tokyo University of the Arts. There, seeing all the students' faces lined up at once, calling each name to take attendance, or making jokes about the background images—these communication distances, different from previous in-person sessions, feel fresh. It's interesting to see works emerging that cleverly utilize the system, unique to this situation. At the same time, I'm a bit concerned that the power of installation in physical spaces hasn't grown.

Lately, though, the concept of hybrid—meaning both online and in-person—has emerged. It's twice as tiring (laughs), but if we can pull it off well, I think it could lead to something interesting. We have to be careful not to create a divide between those who go in person and those who don't. It's about respecting each other's choices.

Case Study ①: Tokyo University of the Arts Art Festival 2021
To support struggling young artists who lost opportunities to exhibit during the pandemic, a digital exhibition was held using social media. This exhibition led to new connections, as Mr. Yanai mentioned, such as artists securing exclusive contracts with galleries and holding solo exhibitions. For a more detailed explanation, see the Cannes Lions official site column " LIONS GOOD NEWS 2021 ".

Online is not a substitute for offline

──You mentioned the term "hybrid." Could you tell us a bit about the "Wind and Rock Imoni Gathering"?

Having Dentsu Inc. cover the "Wind and Rock Imoni Party" is probably the first and last time, so it's a great honor (laughs) and I'm delighted. A major feature of the Wind and Rock Imoni Party is that it has the closest distance between audience and performers in the world. In that sense, it's the event most vulnerable to COVID-19, which requires physical distancing.

We decided to cancel three months ago, thinking it would be impossible to hold it while maintaining distance. Another reason is that it's a place for people from Fukushima and across Japan to connect. No one wants to bring viruses from elsewhere, and if there's even a hint of concern, we couldn't do it. That said, people say they get "potato withdrawal" after the festival ends. We received many voices saying they couldn't bear to go a whole year without it. So in 2020, instead of holding the event, we asked Fukushima Central Television to let us do something for six hours. We broadcast it via LINE LIVE-VIEWING and a special live program on Fukushima Central Television.

This festival is originally run with the Fukushima Minpo newspaper, and Fukushima TV is part of the Fukushima Minpo network. Yet, Fukushima Central TV, a rival station, has supported our vision for 12 years, crossing network lines to produce these special programs. Given that, I personally felt we had to do something even bigger than last year this time around. We went beyond just local TV, incorporating radio, newspapers, YouTube Live, LINE LIVE-VIEWING, and Rakuten TV. We ran for 72 hours, covering the original four-day schedule.

Everyone was pretty worn out physically... but the media folks were absolutely glowing. They were doing something different with different people than usual. Media gets pushed around by the internet and becomes a target for criticism, but they were truly vibrant and alive.

It wasn't just online replacing offline. I initially thought it was a substitute too, but participants told me they felt "potato withdrawal" even though they hadn't physically visited Fukushima. It was my first experience truly feeling that online can create human warmth and connections.

But this wasn't just about everything being online. I think combining it with familiar media like newspapers, TV, and radio – things people have known since birth – made it easier for everyone to absorb. For example, when videos streamed on YouTube incorporate the familiar structure of TV programs, the way captions are placed, the camera work, and lighting, people accustomed to those media find it much easier to enter that world.

Also, during these 72 hours, everyone involved, including the participants, seemed to become a bit kinder. While media is a place that embraces all emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, and even rage—watching TV and listening to radio made everyone gentler. And that, I realized, is the role of media.

Case Study ②: Kaze to Rock Imoni Festival
Anna-san's rock festival, running for over a decade. Updated as a village festival during the pandemic. It leverages digital technology without being overly digital. Truly an event characteristic of Anna-san. For a more detailed explanation, see the Cannes Lions official site column " LIONS GOOD NEWS 2021 ".

Yanaichi-style Community Building

──Recently, I saw news articles saying things like "People who move to rural areas are still treated as outsiders even after three generations." I feel that the success of the Imoni Gathering in the Fukushima community is largely due to its relationship with local media, the endorsement and continuity that comes from that.

That's right. Take the recent increase in regional art festivals, for example. You see guys with super long hair spending ages making objects on the beach, or blonde women in dirty overalls painting old houses bright red. It's not that locals have an allergy to strangers, but there's always a sense of surprise, for better or worse. Many local communities lack the immunity to accept truly different things, so even if there are successful examples elsewhere, it's hard for them to integrate. I think you need to build a framework over time: co-creation between locals and newcomers trying to do something there, and then outsiders coming to enjoy what's been created.

Mistakes and misunderstandings will happen along the way, but I think the real value of community projects lies in locals overcoming those hurdles, experiencing the fun, and discovering the joy. In such cases, having online as the entry point seems to help moderate the intensity of the stimulation.

The Wind and Rock Imoni Gathering also gradually earned trust after the earthquake, bit by bit, through its continuity. It only became truly interesting after several years of people saying, "Hey, that was great!" Another key perspective is not bringing things from Tokyo, but creating together with the locals. The ideal would be for the locals to create it themselves, and for me to go as a guest.

People feel discomfort and awkwardness when they're the ones receiving things, you know? When you go to the countryside, you often end up bringing back tons of souvenirs, right? I think it's really important to feel fulfilled by giving to others. People in rural areas can form incredibly deep connections once you get close, but the challenge is crossing that initial threshold. What I consciously do is try to remember as many customers' faces and names as possible. I've memorized hundreds by now. When I can picture someone's specific face, I think about what would make them happy or sad. Imagining that helps me select, discard, or come up with all kinds of ideas. I feel like this approach feeds back into my work in Tokyo.

──This thoughtful consideration for others is what's so great about working with both you and Hamashima-san.

Well, my family runs a confectionery shop. I'm the son of a face-to-face service business. You know how people in advertising come from all sorts of backgrounds? Like teachers' kids, architects' kids, book designer's kids. I imagined book design being like Taku Tada, architecture like Kashiwa Sato. Everyone tends to make ads that reflect their parent's profession. That's my personal theory. So while I value one-on-one interaction, I can't seem to break free from that... I lack the breakthrough power (laughs).

──The reality of seeing someone's face is definitely important. Even when they talk about personas, a lot of it is just, "Come on now."

As Professor Hamashima also says, no matter how thoroughly you think about a product, when you actually meet real users in group interviews, you often find they're different from what you imagined, or feel betrayed. So, you have to constantly correct yourself on the importance of the real thing. Otherwise, you'll struggle when it comes to fine-tuning things like the exact wording. That's obvious.

But group interviews can be biased too. What I did for a while was observe 5-6 sample users on Twitter without following them. See how they view the world. Notice when they'd say something like "this is interesting" or "this is boring" about something I made. I focused on figuring out how to create something that would satisfy those 5-6 people.
Even though I'd never met them, if this person liked it, about 300 others would too.

How to engage with data, the nature of teams

──In terms of how things are made, recent advertising has become more scientific, including data. Mr. Yanai, are you friends with data and science? Or do you keep your distance?

Back when I was still at Hakuhodo, I had to speak in front of new marketing recruits. The first question came from a rookie who said, "Mr. Yanai, you don't really do marketing, do you?"—a very rude thing to say (laughs). I told him to "shut up," but I was secretly pleased. There was a time when I rejected science. I thought data was just something you got dragged around by, or used as an excuse, and I turned a blind eye to it.

Now, I want to figure out what lies beyond the science, to find the truth behind the numbers. I try not to ignore it as much as possible. So, I'm not operating with some kind of creative director's supernatural powers.

──What do you mean by "creative director-like supernatural powers"?

Meetings are usually about an hour, right? I sometimes appear on TV, and in my mind, being a creative director involves that kind of work too. It's about whether you can create a real highlight within that hour, something that makes people feel that supernatural power. When I'm meeting with clients, giving presentations, or talking with staff, if I don't create at least one moment where I think, "Wow, I just said something amazing," then what was that hour even for? That's the feeling. So with more online meetings, I find myself wondering, "What did I accomplish in this one-hour session?" It's really tough right now. I conduct meetings thinking of the people in front of me as my audience.

──Is there anything you consciously focus on when working with a team?

The team keeps getting younger, and if you listen to their conversations, they increasingly gravitate toward scientific correctness. There's something almost narcotic about scientific correctness—it's logical, and the proposals are perfectly structured and polished. That's fine in itself. But watching it constantly, I see huge gaps opening up in crucial places as the conversation keeps moving forward. I totally get what Professor Hamashima said about filling those gaps being the role of the agency, of Dentsu Inc. If it becomes like a puzzle-solving game, even non-humans can do it. AI, for instance. If you just climb that ladder obediently, you end up thinking, "Hey, I can fit this and that neatly into 15 seconds. I've got the skills."

Someone recently remarked that people making ads these days are getting endlessly better at selling. But the cultural elements, the feelings—the parts that aren't about selling—can't be quantified by science. That's what the "blank space" is about. To make something heartfelt and genuine, if we're heading in the opposite direction, someone has to step in and stop it. I always think that.

Interacting with the young students at the Wind and Rock Imoni Gathering or the Tokyo University of the Arts is similar. I feel purified, then return to this messy world. Seeing the gap firsthand, I believe my mission is to keep things connected, to maintain that passage. I truly believe there are things we absolutely must do – a kind of pride for those who create advertising.

To those in the advertising world

──Finally, since we touched on the role of agencies, please share a message for those in the advertising world.

We've been told countless times at various points, "This is a transitional period," "The times are changing." But I truly feel the moment of real change is finally approaching. What happens to the world, what happens to us—how we confront what's old versus what's new—this feels like a crucial juncture.

Things that never broke before are breaking now, and unimaginable things are happening – so much so that even using the word "new" feels trite. What can we do to help people stay calm and kind during this? I think everyone, including Dentsu Inc., is grappling with that right now. It's not about new media emerging or new creations becoming trends. We're at a point where we're asking, "What do we do next?"

──Exactly. Major change is terrifying. So, instead of panicking and doing something rash, staying calm and being kind is incredibly important.

People often say those in advertising have no principles (laughs), but they're actually highly skilled at delivering results within the scope of the work they're given, rather than pushing their own agendas. That's why they've been criticized so much, told they need to speak up. But conversely, I think the sense of balance and the skill and effort advertising people put into considering others are truly extraordinary.

Advertising professionals aren't exactly endangered species, but I think they should keep doing what they do without being ashamed of this unique sense of balance. They never say anything, do they? I've never seen anyone in advertising calling for the cabinet to resign or opposing nuclear power. It's not that they lack opinions; they're people who are constantly observing how to connect both sides of an issue—pro and con—to move things forward. They're honing their skills in how to use communication effectively, how to leverage their own abilities. That's precisely why they can be such excellent neutral mediators and arbitrators in disputes. I hope they take pride in what only they can do.

There was a band from Tokushima who joined our "Wind and Rock Imoni Party." They came all the way from Tokushima to Fukushima just to participate. Before they performed, they said, "This event isn't a substitute for cancellations during the pandemic—it's a pre-party for next year's event!" That's exactly the kind of value transformation, or reinterpretation, that advertising people excel at. Hearing that made everyone happy. Even when doing the same thing, you can imbue it with meaning and change people's feelings. For the Geidai Art Festival 2021, we also asked advertising experts, including Professor Hamashima and others, to help, which I believe is why we were able to make it the best it could be.

──Thank you for the kind words!

You really did an amazing job... I'd even promote Dentsu Inc. myself (laughs).

Hashimoto: Wow, that was exciting! Mr. Yanai, you were in top form. Thank you. And your final words were incredibly encouraging for us advertising professionals—we're deeply grateful. By the way, I had three "Oh!" moments—your perspective is so high-level. Truly, Mr. Yanai.

Iguchi: It's truly gratifying that the Tokyo University of the Arts Art Festival 2021, which we assisted with, was not only a successful project but also received such positive external recognition. Thank you, Mr. Yanai and Mr. Hamashima. We look forward to continuing our collaboration. So, if you consult with us, we intend to share various insights through both work and casual conversation. While we excel at casual chats, receiving work assignments doubles our motivation. And that means even more casual chats! We offer cutting-edge strategies and tactics, like those showcased in the Tokyo University of the Arts Art Festival 2021 we introduced here, so please! Feel free to reach out anytime.

Our next update will likely be around December or January, based on the progress of the project we're currently working on together. See you then! Though I wonder if it'll reach this high level of discussion again (sweat). Oh, and one last thing! We're also developing content in our Cannes column that delves deeper into case studies based on the insights shared by Mr. Yanai here. Please check that out too! It's a bit more practice-based, though.
Contact: offer@craftprlaboratory.com

Special thanks: Shingo Hiraoka (Dentsu Inc.), Tomomi Hosoda (PR Consulting Dentsu Inc.), Rena Kuraya (Kaze to Rock)