08 april 2025, Martine Bontjes
The studio of… Ken’chiro Taniguchi
Antique tins, yellow PVC plates, and large quantities of screws fill the studio of Japanese artist Ken’chiro Taniguchi. Together with his partner Ayako, he works from a studio in Berlin, following a strict daily routine. Work, exercise, and meals happen at set times, which means they rarely work overtime. While Ken’chiro thrives in the chaos of a space filled with scattered objects, Ayako’s workspace is neat and minimalist. For over 25 years, the duo has been working on their so-called "hecomi" pieces, which visualize the dents and scars of the city.
During Art Rotterdam, PHOEBUS Rotterdam presented a series of works for which Taniguchi was inspired by the renovation of Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen. “I wanted to see the unique shapes that could only emerge from the special environment of a museum renovation. Since 2000, I've catalogued over 500 different "hecomi" forms, but this project revealed entirely new ones.” An addition to this series of works is the “Hecomi Map” which documented the diverse forms of renovation. A solo exhibition of these works will follow in 2026 at PHOEBUS Rotterdam.
Where is your studio and can you describe what it looks like?
My studio is in the Wedding district of Berlin. I work alongside my partner, Ayako Taniguchi, but we each have separate rooms. My space is filled with works in progress, hanging everywhere. Since my main color is yellow, the whole room has a bright, almost overwhelming feel to it. I love collecting antique tins, which I use to store and organize screws. Being surrounded by things I love makes the space feel comfortable to me. Ayako, on the other hand, is a minimalist, so her workspace is much more neat and tidy.
The central theme of my work is the "hecomi"—the dents and scars of the city. In a way, the streets we use every day, or those I walk on during my travels, also serve as an extension of my studio, where I discover new forms and ideas.
What does a typical day in your studio look like? Do you have routines? Do you listen to music, or do you prefer silence?
We follow a structured daily schedule. We work Monday to Friday, from 9 AM to 6 PM. Our lunch break is from 12 PM to 1 PM, during which we usually go for a run or do some other form of exercise. We eat lunch by 1:30 PM, and then our afternoon session starts at 2 PM. We always finish at exactly 6 PM and rarely work overtime because we believe maintaining focus is essential. Unless something unusual comes up, this routine repeats every day. Being an artist is a long journey, and I’ve found that sticking to a consistent schedule helps me preserve my energy and stay productive. I listen to all kinds of music while working, but when I’m shaping a piece I prefer silence so I can fully concentrate on the form.
You grew up on the island of Hokkaido. To what extent has this place influenced your work as an artist?
Hokkaido is in northern Japan and is known for its heavy snowfall—several meters accumulate each year. After the long winter, the first flower to bloom in spring is the Ice Adonis, which is bright yellow. My work is mainly based on the color yellow. I think this flower might have influenced me on a subconscious level.
In an interview, you mentioned that you loved browsing through picture books as a child. What fascinated you so much about illustrations?
Since childhood, I’ve always been excited by the idea of seeing unfamiliar things lined up together. It allows me to compare and notice the uniqueness of each shape. Even a simple form can take on new meaning when arranged in a particular way. There’s something incredibly interesting about how shapes interact when placed next to one another.
You collaborate with your partner Ayako Taniguchi. How do you divide roles?
When creating artworks, our roles are clearly defined. If you think of the entire process as a scale from 0 to 10, I handle the initial stage—deciding on the direction—by myself. From stages 2 to 8, we work together. For examle, Ayako cuts out the "hecomi" shapes from high-compression PVC plates, and then I take over from stage 9 to 10, shaping and finishing the final form.
For projects like the "hecomi map," which involve more fieldwork, our collaboration shifts. We discuss together how to approach the theme and decide which types of "hecomi" to collect.
You have been working on your “hecomi’ projects for several years. How do you continue to challenge yourself? And what fascinates you so much about the process of decay?
I see my "hecomi" studies as something similar to Japanese disciplines like judo, kendo, sado (tea ceremony), or kado (ikebana)—practices that are represented by the kanji "道" (do - meaning "path" or "way"). Each of these disciplines values the process of continuous refinement. I’ve been on the "hecomi" path for 25 years, and I don’t even know where the goal is. But that’s okay. Just existing within this endless landscape of possibilities is enough for me.
The architect Tadao Ando once wrote in his book: "I don’t think true happiness lies in being in the light. It’s in chasing that light, running toward it with everything you have. Life’s fulfillment comes from being lost in that pursuit.”
I was drawn to "hecomi," but honestly, it could have been something else. "hecomi" is just a medium—a gateway to experimentation and ongoing study.
For your latest series, you were inspired by the transformation of Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen. What intrigued you about this renovation?
As a visual artist, what interests me is how I can encounter new and interesting shapes. I wanted to see the unique shapes that could only emerge from the special environment of a museum renovation. Since 2000, I've catalogued over 500 different "hecomi" forms, but this project revealed entirely new ones. To be able to add them to my collection was incredibly satisfying.
Do you enjoy working on commission, or do you prefer to choose the locations for your ‘hecomi’ projects yourself?
Both have their own rewards. With commissions, I have to adapt to different constraints, environments, and perspectives that I wouldn’t normally encounter. This often forces me to tackle unexpected challenges, but those challenges help expand my skills and introduce new techniques. For personal projects, what I focus on most these days is making sure that we, first and foremost, have fun with them. When we’re truly excited about what we’re doing, our enthusiasm naturally comes through in our words and actions, making it easier to share that passion with others.
The recurring element in your work are the yellow PVC plates. What is it about this material that you enjoy working with?
Before transforming "hecomi" shapes into sculptures, I perform a ritual-like act called "hecomi fitting." I cut out the shapes and snap them back into the existing cracks. In that moment, the negative space of the "hecomi" is transformed into a lively, pop-like, positive presence. The material used is a recycled resin mixed with yellow pigment. Its smooth, glossy surface contrasts beautifully with the rough textures of the ground.
After paying homage to the form of the "hecomi" through this ritual, I begin sculpting. I split the objects into multiple parts, reconnecting them with hinges so they can fold and unfold. Through this movement, they become three-dimensional. These abstract, interactive sculptures — titled "Hecomi Study" — function almost like toys for me, allowing me to rethink and transform their shapes repeatedly. A lifelong love of Lego blocks has undoubtedly influenced this approach. The playful nature of the material makes it the perfect match for "Hecomi Study".
You work on both small and large scales. Do you have a preference?
I enjoy both, but I try not to favor one too much. After working on large-scale pieces, I often create smaller works to refresh myself. If I focus on small pieces for too long, I start feeling the need to make something more impactful. Because my work tends to be labor-intensive, when I want to focus purely on sculpting, I usually start with something small.
Some of your “hecomi” works were recently shown at Art Rotterdam. What can we expect from your upcoming exhibition at PHOEBUS Rotterdam in 2026?
For my exhibition at PHOEBUS Rotterdam in April-May of 2026, I’ll be showcasing works based on "hecomi" shapes collected from various rooms in the Boijmans Van Beuningen Museum. In addition, we will publish a "Hecomi Map" that documents these forms.
