Listen to me carefully, you bunch of snobs. Kohei Nawa is not just an artist, he is a methodical assassin of our daily perceptions. This Japanese sculptor, with his transparent spheres that cover mundane objects like hunting trophies, forces us to question the way we interact with the world. And you know what? That’s exactly what we need in this digital age where our brains, softened by screens, confuse pixels with reality.
Born in 1975 in Osaka, Nawa has forged an international reputation with his works that explore surfaces as interfaces between human perception and materiality. His emblematic series “PixCell” – a term he invented himself by merging “pixel” and “cell” – perfectly symbolizes our era saturated with digital information. These objects, often taxidermied animals, covered with glass beads that act as magnifying lenses, create a troubling visual effect that makes us doubt what we are really seeing.
What strikes me in Nawa’s work is his phenomenological ability to transform our sensory experience. When I look at his deer covered with spheres, I do not simply see a disco ball-like stuffed animal. No. I am confronted with a radical restructuring of my perception, as if Maurice Merleau-Ponty had suddenly decided to become a avant-garde Japanese sculptor. Merleau-Ponty taught us that our body is the vehicle of our being-in-the-world, that our perceptions are embodied [1]. Nawa pushes this idea further by creating objects that deliberately perturb our senses, that force us to recognize the limits of our perceptual apparatus.
The French philosopher wrote in his “Phenomenology of Perception” that “the body proper is in the world as the heart is in the organism” [2]. This idea resonates perfectly with Nawa’s intentions when he covers his objects with transparent spheres. These bubbles are not merely aesthetic; they serve to underscore our complicated perceptual relationship with objects. As Nawa himself explains, “when the object is completely covered with spheres (cells) of different sizes, dividing its skin into individual cells, it is ready to be ‘seen’ through lenses that enlarge and deform it.”. This is precisely what Merleau-Ponty sought to make us understand: our perception is never neutral, it is always already an interpretation.
Nawa’s creations invite us to an embodied experience where we are aware of our act of perception. His sculptures are not passive objects to be contemplated, but active catalysts that force us to recognize how we construct our reality through our senses. This phenomenological approach to art echoes Merleau-Ponty’s writings when he asserted that “the thing is never separate from someone who perceives it” [3].
His connection with architecture is evident. Architecture does not content itself with creating spaces; it orchestrates experiences, modifies our perceptions and our movements. Nawa does the same with his sculptures and installations. Look at his installation “Force”, where silicone oil constantly falls from the ceiling in thin streams that accumulate in a puddle. Is this not a form of liquid architecture? Does Nawa not build spaces with fluid materials rather than with concrete and steel? Like the architect Tadao Ando who manipulates natural light to transform the spatial experience, Nawa manipulates materials to transform our perceptual experience [4].
In his architectural project “Kohtei”, an art pavilion near Hiroshima completed in 2016, Nawa transcends the traditional boundaries between art and architecture. This structure, with its organic form and perforated metallic skin, becomes an extension of his sculptural exploration. It is not simply a building; it is a habitable sculpture, a space that engages all our senses and modifies our perception of both interior and exterior.
The architectural critic Kenneth Frampton wrote about “tectonics” in architecture, which he defines as “the art of joining things” [5]. Nawa applies this principle not only in his architectural projects but also in his sculptures. His “PixCell” works are precisely about junction, how the cells/pixels connect to form a whole, how digital information and physical materiality intertwine.
What I particularly appreciate about Nawa is his categorical refusal to conform to the stereotypes of Japanese art. While so many Japanese artists have exploited the manga-anime vein to exhaustion, Nawa has chosen a different, more sophisticated path. He is part of a new generation of Japanese artists seeking to offer a more nuanced vision of contemporary Japanese art and culture. As he himself declared: “There may have been a time when artists benefited from Japanese stereotypes in their work, but I think my generation no longer feels the need to identify with, or try to represent, Japan.”.
In his series “Scum”, Nawa explores the idea of uncontrolled organic growth through sculptures of polyurethane foam that bloom into a large volume. These works evoke a sense of unsettling strangeness, as if we were witnessing a frenzied cellular division. They remind me of the words of the architect Rem Koolhaas on the “generic city”, this unplanned urbanization that spreads like foam on the surface of our planet [6]. Nawa materializes this contemporary anxiety in the face of uncontrolled growth, whether urban, cellular or informational.
Nawa’s work “Throne”, exhibited under the pyramid of the Louvre in Paris in 2018, represented an elevated, empty, gilded throne, surrounded by organic forms. This work masterfully fused architecture and sculpture. The artist explained that this piece questioned the future of humanity in the face of artificial intelligence: “How will this new intelligence born of technology grow, and who will sit on the throne of the future?”. This monumental sculpture echoed contemporary architectural concerns about our relationship with technology and how it shapes our living spaces.
Nawa’s immersive installations like “Foam” create environments where the viewer is completely enveloped. The architect Peter Zumthor speaks of “atmosphere” in architecture as a spatial quality that touches us emotionally before we can even analyze it intellectually [7]. Nawa creates precisely these types of atmospheres, spaces that affect us viscerally before our minds can rationalize them.
What truly sets Nawa apart is that he transcends categories. Is he a sculptor, architect, painter or performer? All these labels seem insufficient. His collaboration with the Belgian choreographer Damien Jalet on the performance piece “VESSEL” perfectly illustrates this creative fluidity. As the architect Bernard Tschumi wrote, “there is no architecture without event, without program, without violence” [8]. Nawa applies this philosophy to his art, creating works that are both object and event, structure and performance.
His work with “Direction”, where paint flows along inclined canvases under the effect of gravity, evokes a sense of cosmic order, as if the artist had found a way to make visible the invisible forces that govern our universe. These paintings recall the fluid flow drawings of the architect Lebbeus Woods [9]. Both artists use fluidity and gravity to explore forms that defy our conventional understanding of space. Woods sought to represent architectures that react to natural and social forces; Nawa does the same with his sculptures that respond to the fundamental laws of physics.
Nawa’s practice is deeply rooted in the exploration of materiality and perception, two central preoccupations of contemporary architecture. As the architect Juhani Pallasmaa emphasized, “significant architecture makes us live in worlds of pure possibility” [10]. Nawa’s works open up precisely these possibilities, inviting us to reconsider our relationship with space, matter and perception.
His studio SANDWICH, founded in 2009 in a former sandwich factory in Kyoto, functions as a creative platform where architects, designers and artists collaborate. This collaborative approach recalls experimental architecture workshops like that of Olafur Eliasson in Berlin. Both creators understand that the boundaries between disciplines are arbitrary and that creativity flourishes in the intermediary spaces.
Nawa’s constant exploration of the relationship between the physical and the digital, the real and the virtual, finds an echo in the contemporary preoccupations of architecture in the digital age. Architects like Greg Lynn or Zaha Hadid have used digital tools to create forms that seem to defy gravity and our conventional understanding of structure. Nawa does the same with his sculptures, creating objects that seem to exist simultaneously in the physical and digital worlds.
What makes Nawa’s work so powerful is that it makes us doubt our perceptual certainties. In a world where virtual and augmented reality increasingly blurs the line between the real and the simulated, his work becomes all the more relevant. As Merleau-Ponty taught us that perception is always an active process and not a passive reception of information, Nawa shows us that our understanding of the world is fashioned by the interfaces through which we experience it.
I defy you to look at a “PixCell” deer by Nawa and not question your own act of perception. These familiar objects made strange force us to recognize the limits of our perceptual apparatus and the constructed nature of our reality. This is precisely what the best architecture seeks to do: not merely to shelter us, but to make us see the world differently.
In a visual culture saturated with images, where the distinction between the real and the virtual is blurring, Nawa offers us a necessary corrective. His works are not objects to be passively consumed but experiences that force us to recognize our active role in constructing our perceptual reality. As Merleau-Ponty wrote, “perceptual experience is a bodily experience” [11]. Nawa reminds us of this fundamental truth through sculptures that engage all our senses, not just our vision.
The language of phenomenology is particularly appropriate for discussing Nawa’s work. Merleau-Ponty’s concept of the “body proper” as our primary means of experiencing the world resonates with the way Nawa manipulates our perception through material interventions. When he covers an object with glass spheres, he does not merely change its appearance; he fundamentally transforms our perceptual relationship with that object.
Nawa’s art invites us to adopt what Merleau-Ponty called the “phenomenological attitude” – an openness to direct experience rather than intellectual analysis. His sculptures are not puzzles to be solved but experiences to be lived, invitations to recognize the embodied nature of our perception. As Merleau-Ponty wrote, “the phenomenological world is not the explication of a pre-existing being, but the foundation of being” [12].
What makes Kohei Nawa such an extraordinary artist is that he combines deep philosophical concerns with impeccable technical execution. His works are both intellectually stimulating and visually captivating, conceptually rigorous and sensually engaging. Like the great architects who create spaces that move us on a visceral level while making us reflect deeply, Nawa creates objects that touch us both emotionally and intellectually.
So the next time you find yourself facing a work by Nawa, do not merely observe it passively. Engage with it phenomenologically, recognize your active role in the act of perception. For that is precisely what Nawa asks of us: not simply to see his works, but to recognize how we see.
And that is perhaps Nawa’s greatest contribution to contemporary art, reminding us that art is not just something to look at, but a way of making us see differently. In a world where we are bombarded with images, where perception is increasingly mediated by screens, this reminder is more important than ever. As Merleau-Ponty taught us, and as Nawa shows us, perception is never passive; it is always a creative act, a dance between the subject and the object, the seer and the seen.
- Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. “Phenomenology of Perception”, Gallimard, 1945.
- Ibid.
- Ibid.
- Dal Co, Francesco. “Tadao Ando: Complete Works”, Phaidon Press, 1995.
- Frampton, Kenneth. “Studies in Tectonic Culture”, MIT Press, 1995.
- Koolhaas, Rem. “Generic City”, in “S,M,L,XL”, The Monacelli Press, 1995.
- Zumthor, Peter. “Atmospheres”, Birkhäuser, 2006.
- Tschumi, Bernard. “Architecture and Disjunction”, MIT Press, 1996.
- Woods, Lebbeus. “Radical Reconstruction”, Princeton Architectural Press, 1997.
- Pallasmaa, Juhani. “The Eyes of the Skin: Architecture and the Senses”, Wiley, 2005.
- Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. “Phenomenology of Perception”, Gallimard, 1945.
- Ibid.
