Tomokazu Matsuyama: The Artisan of Identities

Listen to me carefully, you bunch of snobs, it is time to talk about an artist who embodies better than anyone the contradictions of our era. Tomokazu Matsuyama is not simply a maker of appealing images for your sanitized living rooms. No, this Brooklynite Japanese combines Western pop aesthetic with Japanese pictorial traditions like a cosmic DJ mixing seemingly incompatible samples to create a surprising harmony.

When I first discovered Matsuyama’s oversized canvases, I initially believed in a form of easy exoticism, yet another pre-packaged version of multiculturalism that makes wealthy collectors salivate for diversity. What a monumental mistake! Matsuyama plays a game infinitely more subtle, deeper, that far exceeds this simplistic reading.

The first time I saw his expressionless faced characters, floating in luxurious interiors overcrowded with floral and geometric patterns, I immediately thought of Homi K. Bhabha’s writings on cultural hybridity. Yes, this Indian postcolonial theorist who taught us that identities are constructed in a ‘third space,’ that interstice where cultures meet, negotiate, and mutually transform^[1]. Matsuyama perfectly embodies this theory with his works that refuse to be categorized as Eastern or Western, traditional or contemporary.

Born in Takayama, Japan, in 1976, Matsuyama grew up between Japan and Southern California before permanently settling in New York in the early 2000s. This experience of perpetual uprootedness is at the heart of his work. The artist himself says: ‘I have never had a home. Going back to Japan at age 12 after spending four years in the United States was an even stronger culture shock than when I had moved to the United States’^[2]. This position of eternal foreigner, Matsuyama has transformed it into a creative force, into a perpetual questioning about identity in our globalized world.

What strikes me about his paintings is how he juxtaposes motifs from Japanese prints of the Edo era with references to contemporary pop culture, brand logos and printed fabrics. In ‘You, One Me Erase’ (2023), he creates a true postmodern curiosity cabinet where a self-portrait of Frida Kahlo, the iconic twins photographed by Diane Arbus, figures by Keith Haring, and Barbara Kruger’s work ‘Your Body is a Battleground’ coexist. At the center, a psychedelic reinterpretation of ‘Judith Beheading Holofernes’ by Caravaggio explodes in fluorescent colors. This frenetic appropriation may seem chaotic, but Matsuyama orchestrates this disorder with surgical precision.

Bhabha reminds us that ‘cultural hybridity gives rise to something different, something new that cannot be recognized, a new terrain of negotiation of meaning and representation’^[3]. Isn’t that exactly what Matsuyama does when he mixes images from fashion magazines with compositions inspired by European Renaissance and traditional Japanese motifs? He does not just juxtapose disparate elements; he creates a new visual language that transcends its sources of inspiration.

Matsuyama’s work is all the more relevant in the Internet age, where we are constantly bombarded with images from different cultures, eras, and contexts. As Bhabha emphasizes, ‘the border becomes the place from which something begins to present itself’^[4]. Matsuyama positions himself precisely on this border, in this liminal space where cultural identities are constantly negotiated and redefined.

Take, for example, his series ‘Fictional Landscape,’ where he depicts characters with androgynous features, dressed in contemporary clothes adorned with traditional Japanese motifs, placed in settings that evoke both Western bourgeois interiors and Japanese folding screens. These characters, often with vacant gazes, seem to float in an undefined space-time, as if suspended between different cultural realities. They embody what Bhabha calls ‘the in-between,’ that space where ‘meanings and cultural identities are negotiated without supposed or imposed hierarchy’^[5].

It would be too easy to see Matsuyama’s work as a simple celebration of cultural diversity, a utopian vision of multiculturalism. No, his oeuvre is more ambiguous, more complex. It raises fundamental questions about how we define ourselves in a world where geographical and cultural borders become increasingly porous. As Bhabha explains, ‘the theoretical recognition of the split space of enunciation may pave the way for the conceptualization of an international culture, grounded not on the exoticist idea of multiculturalism or the diversity of cultures but on the inscription and articulation of the hybridity of culture’^[6].

This idea of cultural hybridity manifests particularly strikingly in how Matsuyama treats patterns and textiles in his works. In an interview, he explains: ‘I became interested in patterns and textile designs because they are not linguistic. You can instantly feel a culture when you see something like a phoenix or a dragon’^[7]. But Matsuyama does not just reproduce these patterns; he transforms them, recombines them, makes them converse with other cultural references. He shows that these symbols that we consider to belong to a specific culture are actually the result of exchanges and mutual influences that date back centuries.

The Silk Road, as Matsuyama reminds us, allowed the circulation of motifs and artistic techniques between Egypt, China, and the rest of the world. ‘Each culture claims that the information that has remained with it for a few decades or centuries belongs to it’^[8], he observes ironically. His work reminds us that the very notion of cultural authenticity is problematic, that cultures have always been in motion, in constant transformation.

This reflection echoes that of Bhabha when he writes: ‘Cultures are never unitary in themselves, nor simply dualistic in the relation of Self to Other’^[9]. By incorporating into his paintings motifs from different traditions (William Morris, Japanese patterns, etc.), Matsuyama creates a layering of identities and different cultures, a way to speak of globalism that reveals something that is neither American, nor English, nor Asian, but utopian.

I particularly appreciate how Matsuyama plays with the very shape of his canvases. His paintings are not simply rectangular; they are often composed of several canvases of different sizes, assembled asymmetrically, with edges and contours cut to fit the painted content. This approach recalls what Bhabha calls ‘the performativity of cultural difference’^[10], this way in which cultural identities are not fixed entities but constantly evolving constructions, defined in action and interaction.

Matsuyama’s sculptures, for their part, push this reflection on identity and perception even further. Made from polished stainless steel like a mirror, they reflect their environment and the spectators around them. As the artist explains, ‘the works absorb their environment, which is an analogy for how a person absorbs the culture around them’^[11]. These sculptures, both familiar and strange, evoke a world that we know not from real life but from dreaming.

Bhabha invites us to consider that ‘the problem of cultural identification is not the assertion of a predetermined identity nor the accomplishment of a cultural ‘tradition’; it is about the process of articulating cultural difference’^[12]. Matsuyama’s work perfectly illustrates this idea. His characters, often androgynous, dressed in clothes that evoke both contemporary fashion and traditional kimonos, embody this identity in perpetual construction, defined not by belonging to a unique tradition but by navigating among different cultural influences.

In his series ‘The Best Part About Us’, presented in 2021, Matsuyama further explores this reflection by creating what he calls ‘the global us’. His characters, young, beautiful, and richly dressed, nevertheless seem disoriented, like sleepwalkers. They embody that privileged youth who have received everything but a sense of belonging, a clear understanding of who they are and what they are supposed to do. They represent what Bhabha calls ‘the contemporary postcolonial condition,’ characterized by ‘a sense of strangeness, non-belonging, that goes beyond mere alienation and becomes a form of hybrid subjectivity’^[13].

What is particularly interesting in Matsuyama’s work is how he uses color to convey this idea of cultural hybridity. His vibrant, almost psychedelic palettes do not align with either Japanese pictorial traditions or Western conventions. Rather, they create a unique visual universe that transcends these categories. As Bhabha observes, ‘cultural hybridity is not merely a question of content or theme, but also of form and style’^[14].

Matsuyama’s creative process itself emblematic of this hybridity. Trained in graphic design at Pratt Institute in New York, he taught himself to paint, developing a unique approach that combines traditional techniques with contemporary digital tools. He begins by scrolling through existing images from both his worlds, flipping through fashion magazines and advertisements in search of contemporary Western visual elements, examining historical texts for visual cues about something older and typically Japanese. From diverse sources, he amalgamates scenes in which figures resembling fashion models wear clothes reminiscent of traditional Japanese clothing while inhabiting backgrounds reminiscent of Shogunate-era folding screens, littered with the detritus of modern life.

This working method recalls what Bhabha calls ‘cultural translation’, the process whereby ‘elements that are neither One nor the Other but something else beyond intervene in the cultural negotiation process’^[15]. By merging disparate elements from different cultural traditions, Matsuyama does not simply create a postmodern collage, but a genuine cultural translation that generates new meanings, new possibilities for interpretation.

Matsuyama’s art thus invites us to rethink our usual categories, to question our preconceptions of what constitutes an authentic cultural identity. As Bhabha notes, ‘hybridity highlights the fact that the boundary between cultures is never simply an issue of past against present or tradition against modernity; it is a process of constant negotiation that takes place in the present’^[16].

The interiors in Matsuyama’s paintings are particularly interesting. Often inspired by design magazines like Elle Decor or Architectural Digest, they represent those luxurious interiors associated with Western social and economic success. But Matsuyama transforms them by introducing natural elements (birds, butterflies, plants) and traditional Japanese motifs. He thus creates a hybrid space that is neither fully Western nor fully Eastern, but something new, unprecedented.

This approach echoes Bhabha’s reflection on what he calls ‘the third space’, this area of cultural negotiation where ‘the meaning and symbols of culture have no unitary or primordial fixity; even the same signs can be appropriated, translated, rehistoricized and read anew’^[17]. Matsuyama’s interiors are precisely such third spaces, places where different cultural traditions meet and transform each other.

What is particularly striking about his work is how he plays with our expectations and cultural prejudices. By mixing references to high culture (Caravaggio, Matisse, traditional Japanese painting) with elements of popular culture (brand logos, manga characters), he questions the traditional hierarchy between these different forms of cultural expression. As Bhabha points out, ‘cultural hybridity forces us to rethink our models of cultural identity away from the polarities of Self/Other, East/West, First/Third World’^[18].

While the debate over cultural appropriation is ongoing today, Matsuyama’s work offers a nuanced and complex perspective. It is not merely about appropriating elements from other cultures, but about creating a dialogue between different traditions, recognizing their mutual influences and constant evolution. As Bhabha explains, ‘hybridity is not a question of eliminating contradictions, but rather of negotiating with them’^[19].

The figures Matsuyama paints are often ambiguous in their gender, combining masculine and feminine traits. This ambiguity reflects what Bhabha calls ‘the ambivalence of colonial discourse,’ the way colonial identities are always marked by a certain instability, a certain fluidity^[20]. By creating characters that escape traditional binary categories, Matsuyama invites us to consider more fluid, complex identities.

What I particularly enjoy about his work is how he manages to create art that is both visually seductive and conceptually rigorous. His works are beautiful, yes, but they are also deeply rooted in reflection on the issues of our contemporary world. As Bhabha emphasizes, ‘art does not simply reflect social reality; it actively participates in its construction and transformation’^[21].

Matsuyama’s work is emblematic of what Bhabha calls ‘the art of cultural transition,’ this art that emerges from the liminal spaces between different cultures, different traditions^[22]. By merging disparate elements from multiple cultural traditions, Matsuyama creates a new visual space that transcends traditional categories and invites us to rethink our conceptions of identity and cultural belonging.

In an increasingly marked world of nationalisms and identity retreats, Matsuyama’s work offers an alternative vision, that of an identity constructed not by excluding the other but by dialogue and exchange. As Bhabha writes, ‘cultural difference should not be understood as the free expression of a predicated people; it is the negotiation of cultural authority that constitutes itself in the moment of enunciation’^[23].

Matsuyama’s fictional landscapes are thus spaces of cultural negotiation, places where different traditions, different influences meet and transform each other. They embody what Bhabha calls ‘the disjunctive temporality of modernity,’ that way in which our contemporary experience is marked by the coexistence of different temporalities, different histories^[24].

What makes Matsuyama’s work particularly relevant today is his ability to capture the experience of what Bhabha calls ‘dissemination,’ this dispersion of people and cultures across the globe that characterizes our time^[25]. His works speak to all those who, like him, live between different cultures, different traditions, different languages.

Matsuyama’s art reminds us that cultural identity is never given once and for all, that it is always under construction, always in movement. The real theoretical and political progress lies in our ability to move beyond traditional foundational narratives to focus instead on the creative moments that emerge when different cultures meet and interact. Matsuyama’s work perfectly embodies this necessity. It invites us to think beyond traditional categories, to envision new ways of being in the world, new ways of defining ourselves. His art reminds us of the beauty and richness that can arise from the dialogue between different cultures, different traditions.

So, the next time you come across a work by Tomokazu Matsuyama, do not simply admire its formal beauty or technical virtuosity. Take the time to immerse yourself in the complex and fascinating universe he creates, a universe where cultural boundaries blur to give way to new possibilities, new identities. Matsuyama’s art invites us to rethink our certainties, to embrace the complexity and ambiguity of our contemporary world. An art that, beyond its visual beauty, offers us a new and stimulating vision of what it means to be human in a globalized world. That is why, you bunch of snobs, you should pay attention to Tomokazu Matsuyama: not because he is fashionable or because his works would look good in your living room, but because he has something important to say about our era and about ourselves.

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1. Bhabha, Homi K. The Location of Culture: A Postcolonial Theory, Payot, 2007.
2. Interview with Tomokazu Matsuyama, Design Scene, April 2016.
3. Bhabha, Homi K. The Location of Culture: A Postcolonial Theory, Payot, 2007.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid.
6. Ibid.
7. Interview with Tomokazu Matsuyama, Almine Rech Gallery, 2023.
8. Ibid.
9. Bhabha, Homi K. The Location of Culture: A Postcolonial Theory, Payot, 2007.
10. Ibid.
11. Interview with Tomokazu Matsuyama, Kavi Gupta Gallery, 2021.
12. Bhabha, Homi K. The Location of Culture: A Postcolonial Theory, Payot, 2007.
13. Ibid.
14. Ibid.
15. Ibid.
16. Ibid.
17. Ibid.
18. Ibid.
19. Ibid.
20. Ibid.
21. Ibid.
22. Ibid.
23. Ibid.
24. Ibid.
25. Ibid.
26. Ibid.