How a kokeshi artisan and
designers forged a creative bond

Kokeshi, which trace back to the Edo period and have roots in Japan's northeastern Tohoku region, are traditional wooden dolls with a unique form: a cylindrical body decorated with flowers and other motifs, topped by a round head with a distinctive expression. Originally made as souvenirs for hot-spring resort visitors, kokeshi dolls gradually took on associations with protection from evil, children's play, and prayers for fertility. One of Japan's preeminent kokeshi production centers is Naruko Onsen in Osaki, Miyagi Prefecture, where artisans continue to pass on the techniques and culture. A defining feature of the craft sets them apart: a single artisan handles the entire process, from turning the wood on a lathe to painting the finished doll. At Sakurai Kokeshi, the thinking and spirit behind the craft—including how the artisan works with the wood itself—matter just as much as the finished object.

Kokeshi are now the centerpiece of a new collaboration with designers. The project is part of IN-HOUSE→SOCIAL DESIGN UNIT,^*1 an initiative that channels the creativity of in-house designers and other creative professionals into developing products with the power to make a social impact. Sony designers joined the project, and the items they created around the concept of "letting kokeshi shine on a broader stage"—are now set to go on sale at Isetan. Kokeshi artisans and designers share a place in the world of making things, but their stances and approaches to their craft could hardly be more different. When those two perspectives begin to resonate together, what kind of possibilities come into view? Naomichi Sakurai of Sakurai Kokeshi, and three designers involved in the project look back on what they learned through the project, what they discovered, and where the collaboration may lead.

*1 IN-HOUSE→SOCIAL DESIGN UNIT: A cross-company project led by Dentsu's Future Creative Center and Isetan Shinjuku LIFE DESIGN, part of Mitsukoshi Isetan. The first initiative brought together young designers from FUJIFILM Design Center's CLAY Studio, Sony, and Sony Design Consulting to create designs on the theme of kokeshi. The prototypes were presented at DESIGNART 2025, held from October to November 2025.

This collaboration was part of IN-HOUSE→SOCIAL DESIGN UNIT, a product-development project that applies the creativity of in-house designers and creative professionals to addressing social issues. What was it like when you first started working across the boundaries of your positions and disciplines?

As designers, how did encountering that kind of philosophy during the research phase affect you?

Engaging with kokeshi:
Three designers,
three design proposals

You started out with no real bearings, just trying to get a feel for things. How did you propose your ideas and shape them into something feasible?

MishimaThe three of us all work in different areas, but the fact that we were able to get ourselves on the same page early on was big. As we made our visits to Naruko and got the chance to watch the artisans at work, we all came away feeling that we couldn't be halfhearted in how we approached the project. When we saw the amazing craftsmanship that they put into their creations, we all had the same reaction: "We're amateurs here. We can't design the actual kokeshi dolls themselves." That understanding we shared helped point us in the same direction, I think.

SerizawaWe got a chance to try painting kokeshi ourselves—and I couldn't believe how hard it was. As designers, you know, we should be good at art. And yet making a single stroke on a doll, from the way the brush first touches the surface to the moment of held tension to the final lift, made me realize just how precious that gesture is. When I got a taste of how deep and rich kokeshi-making can be, I couldn't get enough. I think that experience was a major turning point for me: rather than shaping ideas by drawing on desktop research, I wanted to give form to the raw sensations of what I felt and discovered firsthand.

SatoGetting an in-depth experience of everything that makes kokeshi-crafting so incredible isn't something you can do every day—which made it so valuable. As our discussions continued, a question began to surface: What kind of design could bring out even more of that kokeshi appeal? From that perspective, we all expanded our ideas.

SakuraiThat feeling of "What can I contribute?" was actually something I felt, too. First off, I was simply grateful for the opportunity to work with designers from one of Japan's leading companies. At the same time, I kept thinking about how I could respond to their ideas and requests. We were doing something completely new in the world of traditional kokeshi, so I decided that I would take the lead, keep talking everything through with the team, and build it together with my father.

Then you polished the designs with an eye to commercialization, completed the prototypes, and moved on to the exhibition unveiling. What form did each design ultimately take?

MishimaMy proposal imagined tableware and lighting that rework four kokeshi shapes and painted motifs from Naruko into entirely different products. The key point for me was not adding new design elements to the shapes and patterns Sakurai Kokeshi has carried forward over the years—I used them as-is. Instead of designing new forms from scratch, I wanted to recompose what already lives inside the tradition: shapes that have settled into the artisans' hands, the touch of their brushwork, and the other elements that are part of the crafting process itself. The tableware I came up with adapts kokeshi-making techniques for production: hollowing out the inside of rotating mizuki wood (the wood traditionally used for kokeshi) to create the finished form. The lighting works in a similar way. It draws on the wood-lathe techniques unique to kokeshi-making, not the methods woodturners use for bowls and other things, and it also leverages the qualities of mizuki wood. The design incorporates traditional shapes that artisans have learned by hand from the previous generation, which helps evoke that distinctive kokeshi aesthetic.

SerizawaI designed a spinning top and a scarf. In the kokeshi-making process, the artisan mounts the wood on the lathe and carves out the shape of the head. Once the head comes off, there's a leftover conical offcut on the lathe side. That ties into one of the things that struck me most about the process. The artisans plant the saplings themselves, grow the trees, cut them down, strip the bark, carve the wood, and finally paint their creations. In that kind of making—where they're so engaged with nature from start to finish—I also found beauty in the sustainable side of the process. Even the wood shavings get used as fuel for the stove or shared with the house next door. That's why it felt like just burning the offcuts, which themselves hold a part of the tradition, would be a waste. From there, an idea came into focus: use that conical shape to make a spinning top and bring it back to life through motion.

The scarf idea also grew out of something that hit me during the painting experience. In kokeshi-making, the painting process is called byōsai. To me, it seemed like the word embodies a philosophy that goes beyond anything you could capture with terms like "pattern" or "motif." I wanted to translate that conceptual dimension itself into a kind of value and see whether I could amplify how the rich, meaningful weight a single brushstroke holds and turn it into something you can wear. That idea shaped the design.

SatoWhat I designed was clothing for kokeshi to wear. At Sakurai Kokeshi, sōsaku kokeshi—creative kokeshi designed to harmonize with contemporary life—are some of the more popular items. On the other hand, though, I'd heard that sales of traditional kokeshi, which remain rooted in older styles, had been relatively stagnant. That got me thinking about whether there might be a way to bring traditional kokeshi into today's living spaces without departing too much from the standard formal aesthetic, which eventually led me to the idea of giving them clothes to wear. As I got to prototyping the designs, I started seeing new possibilities. Opening the front of the clothing wide lets the painted design shine through. A collar can cover the neck a little and give the face a different vibe. A flared silhouette creates a lighter, more airy presence. I wanted the clothing to extend the aesthetic range. And I also figured that with kokeshi wearing clothes, there'd be opportunities for collaborations with partners that the dolls have never had any connection with before. That would help them reach new audiences they might've never been able to get to, as well, including fans of the collaborators.

The designs and visions guiding
the creations to the market

SakuraiEvery one of these ideas is something we never would've come up with on our own. Serizawa-san's spinning top, for example, made me realize that even the offcuts I'd always seen as scraps actually have value. With the scarf, too, I felt that he wasn't just looking at kokeshi as something "cute." He saw value in the brushwork and lines that Sakurai Kokeshi has stood by over the generations—and in the aesthetic richness of a single stroke. Mishima-san's tableware and lighting are the hardest items to make. Hollowing the wood out that deep, all the way inside, was a challenge for me, even. Sato-san's clothing idea was something else, too. I had no idea that it'd have that big of an impact. She brought some even more adventurous design ideas to the table, as well. The whole thing was fascinating to me, really, including where it might lead from here.

All three of you are designers, but you each arrived at a completely different end result. Why do you think that was?

SatoProduct design, communication design, UI/UX—we all work in different design fields, so maybe the differences in how we think showed up in our creative output.

SerizawaI think that was part of it. But some of it also probably has to do with how the project wasn't just "work" to us in the usual sense. It was an individual act of creating. That might be why the end results really captured our personal tastes and perspectives in such a distilled form.

MishimaIn that sense, the kind of mental preparation and resolve this project demanded went beyond the design we normally do. Being there, in the presence of these artisans with their incredible focus and amazing skill, I kept thinking that we couldn't hurt the tradition with half-baked ideas and that we'd have to be careful about our proposals if we wanted to avoid offending them. That's why I was so relieved—and grateful—that Sakurai-san was so receptive to our ideas.

SakuraiThe project naturally presented its share of technical difficulties for me, too, but it got me thinking: I spent day after day wondering how we could give shape to the ideas they brought us. But I never thought, "This won't work" or "We can't do this." Kokeshi started out as souvenirs, which tends to make them seem like plain old things, or simple commodities, to most people. But the designers on the project were so serious about them as works of art, and that helped take the value of kokeshi even higher. For me, that's really gratifying.

Once you've completed the creative process and made your way through the development steps, the products are set to go on sale at Isetan. When you look back on everything so far, what have you learned? What kinds of discoveries have you made about new possibilities for design?

MishimaWe're actually still in the middle of the commercialization process at the moment. The question we're working through right now is how to take elements of the techniques and aesthetics that kokeshi artisans have passed on for generations—in one of the most distinctive traditional crafts, no less—and translate that dimension into new products. We're making little adjustments, aiming for forms that only kokeshi artisans could create.

SerizawaAt the prototype stage, the scarf I created used polyester. To turn it into an actual product in the market, however, we decided to ask Tomioka Silk, a purely domestic silk brand associated with the World Heritage Site Tomioka Silk Mill, to make it in 100% silk using GUNMAHOSO—a rare, premium silkworm variety produced by only a handful of silk farmers in Fujioka, Gunma Prefecture. The idea is to let Sakurais' way of engaging with natural wood resonate with another natural element: sericulture.

SatoThe clothing was the work of Maito Design Works, a brand in Tokyo's old Shitamachi downtown area that works with plant dyeing and knitwear. Since we were bringing kokeshi-making together with plant dyeing, a technique from a different traditional craft, we had a wide range of textures and colors to explore. Eventually, we decided on three versions. Among all the things Sony makes, seeing these items—handcrafted objects—go on sale is going to be a unique moment to remember.

SakuraiFor us, too, all of this is brand-new. My hopes are high that these products will give people a chance to appreciate the layers of time and the value of handwork behind kokeshi.
It takes more than a year to complete a kokeshi doll: from peeling the bark off the timber and drying the wood to giving the wood form and painting the results. The pieces we create at Sakurai Kokeshi aren't things you can build based on precise dimensions alone, either. What gives our dolls their identity are the touch and mindset and all the other things that generations of artisans have learned through actual experience—visceral, in-the-body insights.
We live in an age that demands efficiency and speed, which I think is exactly what makes Sakurai Kokeshi special: we've always cherished making things without skimping on time or effort, building on techniques and sensibilities that have passed from one generation to the next. Throughout the project, I was so amazed at how seriously the designers were asking themselves such a deep question: "At its most essential level, what is a kokeshi doll?"

SerizawaThat sense of probing and discovery was such a big part of the project for us as designers, too. The project gave us so many insights into how we usually think and what we might have been overlooking.

MishimaIn product design, I think it's almost unheard of to work with forms and painted motifs that you can't turn into data. As a designer, I learned so much from expressing the creative energy that lives in Sakurais' hands—an artisan's individuality—and presenting those differences as personality and character.

SatoSomething just came back to me. When I first joined Sony and was going through design training, I asked a senior designer a question: "What makes a design ‘Sony-like'?" The answer was, "The things we create are what make Sony what it is." And now, I realize that's an almost perfect echo of the mindset Sakurai-san's father was talking about. There are things we need to protect, and there are new adventures we need to go on. We may work in different fields, but I feel that the thinking running through our craft has a lot in common—and the ideas have a lot of ways to resonate with each other.

SakuraiThank you. Everything you've said today gets at a really important idea: that people like us, people who create, are human beings, putting our own personal feelings into the things we make. They're not just objects. There are people behind them. That's something people tend to forget, but you all here certainly haven't. I can tell that it matters to you. I sure hope we have the chance to work together again.