I used to go to art museums in the metropolitan area quite often when my home was in Tokyo. Now that I live in Hayama, I go to the Museum of Modern Art, Hayama, near my house, and the Pola Museum of Art in Hakone. For me, a museum is not so much a place to admire works of art but rather a place to purify myself. I go to a museum when I feel my mind is getting out of tune. It is like a church. It’s a very quiet and controlled space, but it also speaks volumes to me.

One Japanese businessperson, who is well-versed in art and philosophy, confided to me that he always goes to see a particular artwork by Picasso when having to make an overwhelmingly difficult decision for his business. In recent years, as represented in the idea of "authentic leadership" that is attracting much attention, we are in the age of leadership with an attitude to embrace a personal sense of values and to be oneself rather than pursuing an ideal image of a leader. In such circumstances, art becomes a valuable tool to refine what I call "an internal ruler," one's subjective criteria.

On the other hand, most of them can answer when I ask them about their favorite Ramen restaurants. They can say “I love this restaurant’s ramen” with confidence regardless of what food critics say, but why can’t they answer a similar question on art? It’s because they’ve had many bowls of Ramen. I think it’s more a matter of familiarity than art being an unapproachable subject. Whether art is in their everyday life makes a difference.

The average commuting time of Japanese workers is estimated to be about 1 to 2 hours. However, the pandemic changed the world, and the number of companies that shifted to remote work increased. The time spent commuting then became an “asset.” If you spend one hour every day studying a language, you may be able to master it in a year. Now that the standard of workstyle has disappeared and because such an asset is tremendously valuable, individuals must figure out their ideal ways of working. Similarly, employers need to examine what it means to gather their employees in physical offices.

The value of work experience comes from the synergy between “where you work,” “whom you work with,” and “how you work.” “Where you work” is particularly important. Many office spaces in Japan still have linoleum floors and a lot of fluorescent lights, but I think that hardly anyone lives in that kind of space. My favorite is the office of the architect Renzo Piano. The glass-walled office located by a lake in Italy has a wonderful view. An office like that makes me want to go in every day, even if I’m told not to.

Honestly, I don't think we can work effectively without gathering. At the same time, we should shed the old habit of aimlessly assembling in an office and really think about what it means to gather people. You put up with an hour-long commute during rush hour to get to an office in the metropolitan area. But then, the first thing you do at your desk is to open a laptop to attend an online meeting. Wait a minute, why is that conversation taking place in virtual space even though people have physically gathered in one place (laughs)? I want to advocate for a more authentic, in-person exchange.

Apparently, a startup company that lends art pieces to business offices is doing well. Perhaps, there is a need not only for art but also things that provide intellectual stimulation. When I visited a Korean company, I saw an entire floor of the fifty-story building dedicated to a library. There were sofas and private booths among tens of thousands of books, and you could read while drinking coffee. It was just like a Tsutaya Books store. The company created the library as a way to encourage employees to study. I have never seen a company library of that size in Japan. An art museum is also where intellectual stimuli accumulate, so I think having such infrastructure within a place to work is beneficial.

We, as humans, find stimulation and comfort in nature because it contains an enormous amount of information and is constantly changing. On the other hand, the conventional office values “constancy,” although it has come to pose a problem. The perspectives and the amount of information such a space provides hardly change, resulting in an environment lacking excitement and stimulation. Now that remote work is widely practiced, the significance of coming to work is being re-examined. I think it’ll be necessary all the more to invest in things rich in information and provide intellectual stimulation to the workers. If you let loose a tiger in an office, the workers will be mentally and physically thrilled by such an inconceivable event.

Among the things humans create, art, in particular, provides a tremendous amount of information. Artists intentionally weave a lot of information into their artwork. The tiger is a metaphor, but man's senses will gradually degenerate without radical stimuli like that. The brains of domestic animals are said to be smaller than those of their counterparts in the wilderness. Our brains may also be shrinking. I've heard that the number of distress incidents in Alaska increased as smartphones with GPS became widespread. Humans used to read planetary information using all senses of their bodies, but that ability has been lost in exchange for convenience.

What our brain craves is not predictable things but randomness itself. The popularity of Leica cameras and bonfires reflects our primal desire to capture random and uncontrollable moments.

There is a poem by Noriko Ibaragi titled “Jibun no kanjusei kurai (Your Own Sensitivity, At Least).” It goes:

don’t blame your withering heart
on other people
you neglected to water your own plants
…
the least you can do
is defend
your own sensitivity
you fool!

It’s written in a harsh tone, but she kindly reminds us to “never forget to feed our souls.” More and more people will seek a working environment that embodies this message.