Interviews, Issue 10, Plus Connect

Keisuke Nakamura

Open Ground

Words SUBIN ANDERSON

Photography EDVINAS BRUZAS

Working with existing structures and overlooked spaces has become a defining part of Keisuke Nakamura’s architectural approach. Through his Tokyo-based practice DAIKEI MILLS, Nakamura looks closely at what a place already holds, allowing its past and present to shape how new uses emerge. One environment where this takes form is SKAC (SKWAT Kameari Art Centre), a former warehouse beneath the Joban Line in Tokyo’s Kameari district, bringing together music, print culture, specialty coffee, and exhibition-making under one roof as part of the wider SKWAT initiative.

For Nakamura, spaces gain meaning through the people who move through them and the encounters that follow. “Encounters with people are perhaps the greatest treasure of all,” he reflects. It is an idea that quietly runs through his work, where architecture becomes less about imposing form and more about creating the conditions for connection, exchange, and shared experience.

SUBIN ANDERSON From your practice at DAIKEI MILLS to projects like Vacant, SKWAT, and SKAC, your work often brings different cultural activities and creative disciplines together in a single space. I’m curious where that sensibility comes from. I’ve read that you grew up in Hamamatsu, surrounded by nature and music at home. Can you share a bit about those early days?

KEISUKE NAKAMURA When designing any space, I’m drawn to places that resemble a park, always welcoming to everyone. This may come from growing up by the sea and mountains, surrounded by open landscapes, which taught me that such grandeur can never be monopolized by a single person. And at home, the sound of classical piano was always present. Our household was full of diverse cultural interests: my music-obsessed elder sister, who heard musical notes even in rain, thunder, and wind; my grandfather, an architect; and my grandmother, a kimono weaver. Lately, I’ve come to realize that this mix of influences has, often unconsciously, shaped the way I express myself.

SA Many of your projects are impermanent, where temporality is part of the thinking from the beginning. Does that shape how you approach materials and your responsibility toward them?

KN I tend to prioritize materials that users can easily transform and that develop a patina over time, gradually becoming more beautiful with age.

It can sometimes be interpreted as a short-term approach, but I think it should remain consistent even in the long term. More importantly, the key is not the material itself, but adopting a soft approach to understand what is truly essential for that space. Design should come on the next layer.

SA This reminded me of the GINZA SIX, A Tree (2025-), where the Yoshino cedar is explored across several phases with different artists. It reflects the idea of a material revealing different qualities over time.

KN The A Tree project brought together people from different backgrounds, but we all seemed to share a common belief: “That the world still holds untapped value waiting to be discovered, and that uncovering it while adding contemporary relevance and artistic expression can create new narratives.”

And using the mystical Yoshino cedar as our subject also naturally sparked multidimensional collaboration, allowing us to move forward while building strong relationships. There is also a deeper cultural layer. In Japan, the belief that spirits dwell within trees is deeply ingrained in the cultural psyche, almost at a DNA level.

SA It feels very much about people coming together around shared experience. Is empathy toward context, and use something you consciously think about?

KN I believe any space needs a sense of publicness and a public spirit, almost like a park, as mentioned before. A space only really begins to breathe when some form of interaction happens with the people who visit it. Above all, openness, even to negative happenings, and a sense of approachability are essential in shaping a space.

SA As your work often enters into dialogue with partners, what makes a collaboration meaningful for you? At SKAC, you work with the twelvebooks (art books distributor), VDS (Vinyl Delivery Service), Tawks (the café), and beyond.

KN Society itself is built upon multiple layers, and architecture, far from being a self-contained discipline, is intrinsically linked to the broader fabric of society. What stimulates me most, especially as I grow older, is encountering unfamiliar expertise from other fields. I firmly believe that it is precisely these unexpected encounters that create depth in things.
This way of thinking stems not only from my childhood experiences and family background, but was also significantly shaped by my student life in the UK. Unlike Japan, the UK has a more multi-layered definition of art that is seamlessly integrated into daily life. In Japan, there can sometimes be a hesitation to cross genre boundaries. But if we want to raise what I feel are somewhat stagnant cultural standards, we need to embrace collaboration across these different fields without hesitation and allow it to become something normal.

SA At SKAC, how do you hope people experience the space on their own?

KN Freedom. I’m interested in the gray areas, the moments where the use of a space is not clearly defined. In that sense, the experience becomes multidimensional. People can read, listen to music, look at art, or simply spend time thinking. I hope the space encourages visitors to think for themselves and to carry those thoughts with them when they leave.