From iPhone Cases to Art and Design: A Creative Journey in Color iPhone

To start, could you tell us a bit about yourself?

I was born in 1995 and grew up in Gunma. I stayed there through high school, then moved to Tokyo for university to study languages. After four years, I graduated and spent a year in Canada on a working-holiday visa. My practice began when I started painting on iPhone cases. I gave one to a friend, she loved it, and soon more people were saying, “I want one too!” Friends posted them on Instagram, the word spread, and little by little—that became the beginning of my creative journey.

How do you describe your role or title in what you do now?

That’s a tough one. I’m still figuring out “what I am.” I feel like I sit somewhere between an artist and a designer. An artist creates what they love and puts it out into the world. A designer takes a brief, interprets it, and turns it into form. I do both. I take commissions like “I’d love a piece like this,” and I paint it. That’s how I make the iPhone cases, too. So for now, my title is a work in progress.

Could you tell us more about the kinds of work you create?

There are two main areas of my work. One is painting on iPhone cases. When I receive an order, I sometimes ask clients to share a bit about their personality. From there, I pick up the brush and paint based on the image that comes to mind. Recently, I’ve also been creating pieces inspired by photos or color palettes clients send me, capturing the atmosphere they imagine. The other is canvas work. With canvases, I take time for in-depth conversations before starting. We talk about the kind of mood they envision, whether it’s something that will complement their interior, and sometimes I even learn about their personal stories. From that, I create a one-of-a-kind piece that reflects “who they are.” Honestly, this is one of the most exciting parts of my practice. I get to know my clients on a deeper level, and in those moments I feel a real sense of connection. It’s one of the times in the process that truly makes me come alive. In addition, I’ve recently started receiving requests for illustrations to be made into stickers, as well as more commissions for wedding welcome boards. Unlike the canvas pieces, the welcome boards are painted on clear acrylic, which gives them a completely different feel.

Even when you’re working on requests, your own style still comes through so clearly.

That’s right—people often associate painting with paper, but I’ve worked on all kinds of surfaces beyond that. Glass, wine bottles, and more. It’s hard to put into words, so honestly it’s probably easier to see the pieces in person (laughs).

How did you arrive at the style you work with today?

I’ve always loved colorful things, and ever since I can remember, I’ve had this strong feeling of not wanting to have the same things as everyone else. At some point I realized, “If I make it myself, no one else will have the same one!” From then on, I tried making anything I thought I could. The first thing close at hand was an iPhone case. Back then I wasn’t confident in drawing illustrations, so I just used the paints I had at home and put colors down however I felt in the moment. That experiment became the starting point for the abstract style I work in today. After that, I spent hours scrolling through Pinterest, looking at works from around the world. And when I was in Canada, museums and galleries were everywhere, often with free admission. Being surrounded by that made me realize, “Yes, this is what I love,” and I kept discovering more and more about myself. I’d actually been practicing calligraphy since elementary school, and in high school I was part of the calligraphy club. So I already had a foot in the arts. People often tell me my work carries a sense of “wa,” or Japanese harmony, and I think that influence comes from there.

That makes sense. Knowing you have a background in calligraphy, I can see it. The brushstrokes and curves carry that influence.

Yes, I think the feel of the brush has stayed with me. When that overlaps with my love for color, it naturally leads to the style I have now.

Do you remember the story behind the very first piece you gave to a friend?

In my fourth year of university, just before going to Canada, I posted a DIY-painted iPhone case on Instagram. The style was a little different from what I do now, but I made a few for friends who said they wanted one. Since I was about to graduate and head to Canada, I decided to stop taking orders—it felt more like a warm-up than a real start. A few months later, once I was in Canada, a friend from Japan ended up becoming my roommate. When I told her about it, she asked me to make one as a birthday gift. That piece was the first that really reflected the style I have now. Posting it on Instagram felt like the true beginning of my creative journey.

And what were you feeling as you painted it? Were you thinking of her while you worked?

Yes. My style has been the same from the very beginning, taking someone’s personality and character and translating that into a piece. She looked quiet at first glance, but was actually very funny, bright, thoughtful, and kind. Above all, she had this incredible warmth and generosity. I created the work with that image in mind. Even seven years later we are still very close. She still comes all the way to my hometown just to see me, and she is a truly important friend.

How do you approach commissions from people you don’t know at all?

As I mentioned earlier, when the request comes from someone I don’t know, I’ll start by asking them to share a bit about their personality. I also ask about their favorite colors or past works they liked, and if they request something like pastels or vivid tones, I’ll incorporate that. With friends, it’s often just “I’ll leave it up to you,” so in those cases I imagine their character myself and translate that feeling into the work.

Have you ever received a commission that felt especially challenging?

There was one canvas commission that was especially challenging. The request was: “Make it circle-themed, warm yet grand, with a strong presence.” On top of that, they specified seven different colors. At first I thought, “What am I going to do with this?” and really held my head in my hands (laughs). But once I picked up the brush and started painting, it felt like the pieces of the image slowly fell into place. It was like being in the zone—suddenly I could really see it. Since there was no chance to revise, it was nerve-racking, a true one-shot challenge. But thanks to that commission, I feel like I pushed my limits and grew. Completing it through sheer perseverance became a source of confidence, and even now it’s something I draw strength from. At the same time, it made me realize that I’m growing because of my clients, and that’s something I’m truly grateful for.

When do you feel the happiest in your creative work?

The happiest moment is definitely after I’ve handed over a piece and the client shares their thoughts with me. That’s when it feels like the work is truly complete. When I receive a comment from a client, all the struggles, stress, and difficult hours leading up to that moment are completely released. When someone says, “It’s so cute!” or “It made me cry,” I feel so glad I kept going. It might sound dramatic, but in those moments I truly think, “I’m so glad to be alive.”

Earlier you mentioned a particularly challenging commission. More broadly, do you often find the creative process itself to be “painful”?

Yes, very much so. Honestly, most of the time it feels difficult (laughs). But it is the joyful comments from clients that keep me going. It feels almost like sports: practice is grueling, but the moment you win a match, everything is rewarded. That is the closest comparison I can think of. Creating a piece is also a kind of one-shot challenge. Money is involved, and someone has trusted me with their request, so I feel I absolutely have to deliver. That pressure makes it tough, and I carry that weight the whole way through. When I finally finish a piece and feel 100 percent satisfied with it, I can relax just a little. But even then, the anxiety and tension remain until I hear back from the client. I often find myself thinking, “Was it okay?” I do not send previews or samples ahead of time. The finished piece arrives as is, and the client sees it for the first time when they open it. That makes the delivery moment nerve-racking every single time. So 90 to 95 percent of the process feels painful. But the last 5 to 10 percent, the joy, is what makes it all worthwhile. It is because I love it that it is so hard, and why I cannot settle for less. But I also know the sense of fulfillment that follows, and that is exactly why I cannot stop.

What does creating mean to you right now?

What I can say with certainty is that creating gives me a sense of purpose. When someone is happy with something I’ve made and actually wants it, that is the moment when I feel meaning and a real sense of being alive. I may not look like it, but I’m someone who tends to overthink and slip into self-doubt when things aren’t going well. Even small setbacks can make me blame myself and think, “I’m not good enough.” But even in those times, this work reminds me, “No, I have this.” I’m not yet at the point where I can live entirely from this practice. Still, the fact that I receive steady commissions tells me that what I create has value to others. That makes me think, “Yes, this is what I have,” and it fuels my hope that one day I can live solely through this work.

Your creative practice now takes up such a big part of your life. But if you hadn’t found it, what do you think you’d be doing instead?

When I was in high school, I loved English, so I went on to study languages at university. By my third year, like most students, I started thinking about jobs and vaguely imagined becoming an English teacher. I decided to go on a working holiday because I hadn’t been able to study abroad during university. After graduating, I planned to work in Canada while earning a qualification to teach English. But for various reasons I wasn’t able to enroll in the program. At that point I wasn’t sure what to do. That was when I talked to a friend about the creative work I had been doing on the side, and things started to take off a little. That gave me the push to keep going, and it’s why I’m still doing it today. So if I hadn’t focused on making in the way I do now, I think I probably would have gone down the path of education.

What does Tokyo mean to you?

It’s hard to sum it up in one word, but right now Tokyo feels like a “big wall” to me. For personal reasons I’ve temporarily moved back to Gunma, but that was because I hit that wall and broke against it. In other words, it was a setback. I really do love Tokyo, but surviving there means constantly pushing yourself. It feels like its own unique world. What I had hoped was to leave my mark and climb over that wall while I was still in my twenties. After coming back from Canada, I spent about seven years trying desperately to climb it. But at this moment, I’m taking a pause. Tokyo is the place that makes me honestly feel, “Maybe I wasn’t strong enough yet.”

Do you have any dreams or goals for the future?

Actually, what I really want is to go on one last working holiday. Back in high school I spent three weeks in Australia on a short study program, and I have stayed in touch with the host family I met there. Meeting them changed the way I see life. But I have never been able to tell them properly in English, “I have grown this much, thank you.” That is why I want to go back to Australia. And maybe, if I could even hold a small solo exhibition there. It feels like a far-off dream, but if people overseas connected with my work or even bought it, that alone would be enough for me. I think I would feel completely fulfilled, like I would not need anything else. It is such a big dream, but I want to stay the kind of person who keeps challenging myself, no matter what.

That’s amazing, and so inspiring. My own dream has always been to go back to Australia and work there, so hearing your story really resonates with me. I truly hope you make it happen. Listening to you reminded me that I should keep moving toward the path that excites me the most.

Exactly. When just talking about it makes your heart race, that’s how you know it’s the path your heart is really asking for.

How do you approach learning and developing your skills? In what ways do you keep sharpening your expression and technique?

I try to look at as many works as possible and then just experiment myself. I’ll watch videos of abstract artists or YouTube channels where people introduce different materials, notice things like, “Oh, they use this kind of medium in that context,” and then I’ll try it out. It’s really about testing things hands-on and building up that experience little by little.

For many people, buying art supplies can feel like a big hurdle. Was it a burden for you when you first had to get everything together?

Honestly, yes. It was definitely a big hurdle. Art supplies aren’t cheap, and even now I cut back on living expenses to make room for them. Even when I’ve had other jobs, balancing daily life with creating has been really difficult, and at times I fell into a negative loop where I couldn’t set aside enough for materials. That is why I think very carefully before buying anything, and I always decide I will never let it go to waste.choice.”

When you’re faced with challenges or risks, how do you decide whether to take the leap? What’s your standard for stepping forward?

There are times when I feel less secure than the people around me, both financially and emotionally. But through experience I have learned that being part of a company as a full-time employee actually makes life feel more difficult for me. That is why I ultimately decided, “This is the path I will live on.” After many conversations with myself and a lot of self-reflection, I realized it is no longer about “do it or not do it.” It feels more like, “this is the only road left for me.” The fact that I have continued creating for about seven years, through all kinds of struggles, gives me confidence. And the comments I receive after handing over a piece are my greatest treasure and truly my reason to keep going. So no matter how much or how little I earn, because I know that feeling of fulfillment, I always end up coming back here.

Lastly, if you could say something to your past self, what would it be?

I’ve always been the kind of person who overthinks, constantly putting every option on a scale and trying to predict the outcome of each choice, wanting to erase every possible worry one by one. In the end I don’t have major regrets, but now I believe that even if I hadn’t thought so much, I probably would have arrived at the same future by following my intuition. So what I want to tell my past self, and even my present self, is this: don’t think too much. Sometimes it’s okay to move with what you feel. It’s fine to worry, but not to the point where you lose sleep. Let some of it go. Having the courage to trust the natural flow of your feelings is important too.

To close, could you share a message for our readers or for those who hope to follow a similar path?

I am still in the middle of my journey, so I cannot speak as if I have it all figured out. But I do believe there is always a path that feels natural to live on. With courage, the view ahead will change. It takes the courage to lay down your own track, and the courage to be your own strongest ally. No matter how society sees you, I think deep down you already know what it is you are seeking. The timing and how long it takes to reach your dreams are different for everyone. I have not fully achieved mine yet either. But as long as my passion does not fade, and as long as there is someone who finds value in what I create, I believe that the track I have laid will eventually lead me to a world where I can truly live with ease. Choosing a different path can sometimes be painful, but it also means living a life that is more colorful than most. So let’s keep pursuing ourselves without giving up.