Makoto: No. I studied marine science at university in the School of Marine Science and Technology. After graduation, I worked in sales for a trading company before eventually moving into design. Today, alongside our creative practice at AtMa, we also teach as a part-time lecturer at an art university. I have never felt that my path was a detour. Every stage has shaped the way I think today.

Ayumi: Yes. I studied Japanese painting in graduate school before working as a visual merchandiser in the fashion industry, where I designed spaces and displays. Today, through AtMa, I work across interiors, exhibitions, products, and installations. For me, art and design are not separate disciplines. They are part of a continuous way of thinking about how people and objects, spaces and actions, materials and society relate to one another.

Makoto: The biggest reason I was drawn to design was that it offered a way to change how people see what already exists. Whether tangible or intangible, design has the power to leave a lasting impression on both objects and people. Rather than creating something entirely new, I became interested in revealing overlooked values and reinterpreting what has become ordinary. Architecture, products, and interiors can quietly shape the way people behave and perceive the world. I see design not simply as the creation of form, but as a way of editing relationships between people and society.

Ayumi: When I was studying painting, my focus was primarily on exploring my own inner world and perception. Over time, however, my interest shifted toward the ways materials and spaces interact with human behavior and social systems. Working as a visual merchandiser made me realize that space has the power to influence the body, emotions, and the direction of our attention. That realization naturally led me toward design.

We do not see materials simply as finishes or surfaces. To us, they carry relationships with time, memory, and the environment. Stone, timber, soil, metal, glass, textiles, and surplus materials all embody different timescales.

We rarely select these materials deliberately, we encounter them through our interior design practices. Construction sites, factories, and buildings awaiting demolition continually reveal unnoticed materials and unresolved questions. We often find materials that remain perfectly usable yet are discarded, or buildings that are demolished simply because they are considered old. In these situations, we see possibilities that have yet to be recognized.

At the same time, client work is inevitably shaped by constraints such as budget, schedule, functionality, and project timelines. These conditions do not always allow us to pursue such questions as deeply as we would like.

Our self-initiated projects therefore become a space where we can continue investigating the material and social questions that emerge through commissioned work.

We are not looking to invent new materials. What interests us is finding new ways to understand the value that already exists.

We see technique as a way of creating new relationships while preserving the distinct qualities, differences, and memories embedded within materials.

We do not standardize irregularities, scars, variations in thickness, weight, or traces of previous use — we accept them as they are.  Whether connecting different materials or reconfiguring existing objects, we treat these traces not as imperfections to conceal, but as integral parts of both the structure and the expression of the work.

In SUR+PLUS, for example, we developed a stainless-steel joint system that accommodates variations in the thickness and shape of stone, timber, and other materials, rather than forcing them into uniform dimensions.

In J39.5, we did not simply repair a damaged mid-century masterpiece chair. Instead, we carefully read the remaining parts and the traces of time they carried, reconfiguring them without introducing new materials. Instead of perfectly restoring the missing parts to their original state, we embrace that imperfection and connect it to a new value.

No single figure stands above the rest for us. We are drawn instead to designers who investigate the relationships between materials, society, and the environment.

For example, we deeply appreciate the work of Formafantasma, whose practice treats design not simply as the creation of objects, but as a form of research and critical inquiry. We admire the way they seek to preserve the histories embedded within materials and reveal their broader social and environmental contexts.

We are equally inspired by designers whose furniture and objects carry questions about the origins of materials and the systems that shape them. Practices that move fluidly between design, art, craft, and architecture continue to influence the way we think.

Olafur Eliasson has been a profound source of inspiration.

His immersive works have the ability to transform perception through natural phenomena such as light, water, mist, and reflection. Rather than simply viewing an artwork, visitors become part of the experience, discovering subtle shifts in their own senses and bodily awareness.

We are also inspired by the way he treats artworks not merely as objects, but as environments through which people can reconsider their relationship with perception, nature, and society.

Similarly, through materials and space, we hope to create experiences that encourage people to notice what they usually miss and to question what they have long taken for granted.

Rather than adding new value, we seek to reinterpret the value that already exists.

This idea runs through nearly all of our projects. We are interested in uncovering the time, memory, and relationships embedded within materials, places, old furniture, surplus resources, and things that have fallen out of use, allowing them to emerge in new forms.