The practice began in October 2014, in a one-room apartment in Kita
Ward. I had spent the previous four years as a lead designer at a
Tokyo-headquartered fintech, where I learned that the most expensive
thing in a product organization is not design talent — it is the gap
between design talent and the engineer who has to defend the next
sprint. Every interface that crossed my desk in those years was a
compromise across two heads, two toolchains, and two weeks of
translation.
So I left. Not to start a studio — studios become agencies, agencies
become account managers, and account managers are how design gets
explained rather than shipped. I left to do the work in a single
head: read the brief, draw the screens, write the components, push
the pull request, and sit in the Slack channel when the on-call
engineer has a question at 11pm.
Eleven years later, the shape of the practice is the same. The
schedule is not. The first year shipped a single engagement — a
14-week rebuild of an internal analytics tool for a logistics firm.
The most recent year shipped 18. The bench has grown from zero to
four collaborators (a motion designer, a 3D generalist, a copy
lead, a research partner), but the principal is still one person,
and every shipped interface still passes through one keyboard.
The practice is not a studio. It is one designer, one inbox, one
calendar, and four people on call.
What I look for in a client has not changed since the year the
apartment was cold: ambiguous scope, measurable stakes, and a team
that would rather move fast on a strong opinion than run a
two-month consensus workshop. If that is your situation, the next
section will feel familiar.