Delivering Art at the Center of Capital

In 2026, spring arrived in Times Square with a moment of almost miraculous beauty through Tomokazu Matsuyama’s video work Morning Again. As a countdown reminiscent of a classic black-and-white film began, more than 96 synchronized screens surrounding the square moved in unison, bringing a fleeting hush to the heart of the city’s constant noise. In that breathless instant, the monochrome imagery burst into vivid color, and rhythmic stripes swept across the space. Soon, flowers blossomed across the screens, triumphantly announcing the arrival of spring in the middle of the metropolis. It was a brief poetic interlude—an unexpected moment of reflection inserted into a place defined by consumption, spectacle, and speed.

This place, blanketed by countless advertising screens, stands not only as an icon of American commerce but also as one of the world’s most potent symbols of global capitalism. Japan, too, once etched its economic ascent into this landscape. During the 1980s and 1990s, brands such as Sony, Panasonic, and Nissin Cup Noodles asserted their presence in Times Square, reflecting Japan’s remarkable rise as an economic powerhouse. More recently, in 2025, Ito En launched a major advertising campaign featuring Shōhei Ohtani, once again demonstrating the enduring visibility and influence of Japanese brands within the global marketplace.

It is this very space—arguably the ultimate expression of commercialism—that is transformed into a platform for art for just three minutes each night, from 11:57 p.m. to midnight, through a project known as Midnight Moment. Launched in 2012 through a collaboration between the Times Square Arts and the Times Square Advertising Coalition, the initiative has become the world’s largest and longest-running digital public art program. To date, it has featured works by more than one hundred artists from around the globe.

Among the Japanese artists selected for the program are Yoko Ono (2012, 2015), Takeshi Murata (2013), Naoko Tosa(2017), and Yoshi Sodeoka (2025). Through their participation, the luminous surfaces of Times Square have periodically shifted from vehicles of commerce to canvases for artistic expression, inviting millions of viewers to encounter art in one of the world’s most intensely commercial environments.

As opportunities to exhibit in museums have increased in recent years, Matsuyama has become increasingly concerned with a fundamental question: how can art reach audiences beyond the boundaries of academia and the traditional art world? In an interview with Bijutsu Techo (2025), he reflected on the growing importance of finding ways to connect his work with a broader public. He expressed this conviction even more forcefully in an earlier television appearance, stating, “Art cannot exist unless it reaches people. It is not enough to simply elevate oneself through artistic practice”. [1] 

These remarks reveal a deeply held belief that art acquires meaning only when it functions within society. For Matsuyama, artistic practice is not a solitary pursuit but a form of communication whose significance emerges through encounters with others.

In Times Square, where more than 200,000 people pass through each day, Midnight Moment became a compelling answer to that very question. For a brief moment, Morning Again captured the attention of countless viewers gathered from around the world, drawing their eyes away from the spectacle of commerce and toward a shared artistic experience. Through its monumental scale and radically accessible setting, the work succeeded in evoking memories, emotions, and personal associations, inviting viewers to project their own stories onto its unfolding imagery.

In this sense, Morning Again was more than a public artwork; it was the realization of a long-standing artistic ambition. The challenge that Matsuyama had wrestled with for years—how to truly reach people—was met in the very heart of the city. Amid the glow of the world’s most famous advertising screens, his work demonstrated that art can still command attention, foster reflection, and create moments of genuine human connection. What had once seemed a difficult question was answered with remarkable clarity, elegance, and brilliance.

The title Morning Again was reportedly inspired by the nickname of a television campaign advertisement used during Ronald Reagan’s 1984 presidential election. Yet the work’s meaning extends far beyond that historical reference. Presented at midnight—the very moment one day gives way to the next—the title evokes the anticipation of a new morning before dawn has even arrived. It is a profoundly poetic and hopeful gesture, suggesting renewal at a time suspended between endings and beginnings.

Matsuyama himself explained to our interview that the work was conceived around the theme of regeneration: “At a time when wars and divisions are occurring around the world, I wanted to convey hope for tomorrow.” The imagery of blooming flowers and the gradual emergence of light thus becomes more than a visual spectacle; it serves as a meditation on resilience, recovery, and the possibility of renewal amid uncertainty.

At the same time, Morning Again represents a culmination of the artist’s own history. Having lived and worked in New York for twenty-five years, Matsuyama described the project as a synthesis of the experiences, influences, and cultural perspectives he has accumulated throughout his career. He also emphasized the importance of preserving what he called “the fundamental impulse of an artist—to express the present moment.” Rather than looking backward with nostalgia or forward through abstraction, the work engages directly with the complexities of contemporary life, translating them into a visual language that is both deeply personal and universally accessible.

In this sense, Morning Again operates on multiple levels simultaneously: as a message of hope in an age of conflict, as a reflection on the artist’s own journey, and as a cultural intersection where personal memory, historical reference, and collective aspiration converge. Displayed in the symbolic center of global capitalism, the work transformed Times Square into a space where diverse histories and meanings briefly overlapped, creating an image of renewal that resonated far beyond the screens on which it appeared.

Morning Again is composed of six original video works that were further developed into multiple animated sequences. Each sequence unfolds independently yet seamlessly connects to the next, forming a sweeping visual narrative that evolves across the immense digital canvas of Times Square.

The work opens with vibrant stripes and flowers blooming beyond the constraints of any single season, flowing gracefully from right to left across the screens. Butterflies soon emerge, birds glide overhead, and shafts of sunlight appear as if carried by the wind itself. Pulsating circles of abstract color rise and fade throughout the composition, generating a rhythm that evokes the cyclical nature of life and renewal.

The focus then shifts to a series of human figures that take full advantage of the vertical format of the Times Square Tower screens. Although Matsuyama intentionally avoids depicting specific individuals, the ‘Muses’ draw inspiration from cultural figures such as Alicia Keys, Swizz Beatz, Naomi Watanabe, and Alex Consani. Crucially, however, these references are never presented as fixed portraits. Instead, they function as open-ended images onto which viewers may freely project themselves or others, transforming the figures into vessels for collective identification rather than representations of particular personalities.

Following a luminous sequence in which bright circular forms ripple outward like waves of light, one of the work’s most striking passages unfolds. Against a radiant backdrop of orange and violet hues, countless birds surge across the screens in a breathtaking display of movement. The imagery draws inspiration from birds depicted in traditional Japanese painting, particularly works associated with the Kano school of the Edo period. Birds that once appeared to possess an implied vitality within static paintings are here liberated into actual motion through animation.

Especially noteworthy is Matsuyama’s manipulation of directional movement. Throughout much of the work, visual elements travel from right to left; in this sequence, however, the motion reverses, flowing from left to right to evoke the force of the wind. This unexpected inversion creates a dramatic shift in the visual rhythm, introducing a powerful change of tempo that reinvigorates the composition and heightens the viewer’s sense of immersion. Through such carefully orchestrated transitions, Morning Again transforms the language of painting into a dynamic, cinematic experience, where historical references, contemporary imagery, and the movement of nature converge in a constantly unfolding spectacle of life.

Equally significant in this sequence is Matsuyama’s sophisticated use of intermediate hues. While Western painting has traditionally emphasized contrasts between primary and complementary colors, Japanese art has long cultivated a particularly refined sensitivity to subtle gradations and intermediary tones. Matsuyama himself has remarked that, in the course of his painting practice, he has developed more than two hundred variations of purple alone. [2] These delicate layers of color retain a distinctly painterly depth even within the digital medium, lending the work a richness of texture and atmospheric complexity that transcends the flatness often associated with large-scale video displays.

As the succession of natural imagery comes to an end, a new figure emerges: a head framed by blooming flowers, hair lifted gently by the wind. Rendered with a diversity of skin tones, genders, and appearances, these figures seem to embody the racial and cultural multiplicity that defines New York City itself. Rather than representing specific individuals, they function as archetypal presences—images through which viewers may recognize both themselves and others.

What follows is one of Matsuyama’s signature visual inventions: a vibrant abstract composition inspired by the tradition of senbazuru, the thousand origami cranes. Here, countless individual forms gather into a larger collective image, transforming multiplicity into unity. The sequence echoes the possibility that distinct identities, histories, and cultures can coexist without losing their individuality, a recurring theme throughout Matsuyama’s oeuvre. Just as each folded crane retains its singular form while contributing to a larger whole, the work suggests a vision of society in which diversity itself becomes the foundation of collective beauty.

The scene then shifts with remarkable lightness as a group of galloping zebras rhythmically races across the screens. Both playful and striking, this memorable motif originates from wallpaper once used in a restaurant established by Italian immigrants who achieved success in postwar New York. In Matsuyama’s interpretation, the zebra becomes an emblem of immigrant aspiration and achievement, embodying the dreams, struggles, and possibilities that have long shaped the city’s identity.

Behind these animated figures unfolds a dynamic panorama drawn from Matsuyama’s celebrated Fictional Landscape series. Various works from the series are transformed into moving images, creating a layered visual environment in which fragments of his broader artistic universe converge. Among them appears Passage Immortalitas (2024), one of the key works from his First Last series. Emerging within the composition as a Christian symbol, it introduces another cultural and spiritual dimension, reinforcing the work’s ongoing dialogue between Eastern and Western visual traditions, personal memory, and collective history.

As the sequence progresses, large silhouettes of male figures rise across multiple screens. Their meaning is deliberately left unresolved. Rather than depicting identifiable individuals, these monumental forms appear as shadows of the countless anonymous lives that inhabit the modern metropolis. They evoke the presence of an unspecified “someone”—a figure both universal and elusive. In this ambiguity lies their power. The silhouettes function less as portraits than as vessels for projection, inviting viewers to insert themselves into the work.

The visual journey then takes an unexpected turn. Hot dogs—arguably one of America’s most iconic foods—float playfully through the air, followed by a cascade of basketballs that rapidly fill the screens. Through these familiar yet potent cultural symbols of American life, Matsuyama introduces a sudden shift in tone. Food and sport, elements deeply embedded in everyday experience, momentarily take command of the visual field, surprising viewers with their exuberance and accessibility.

As countless basketballs descend toward the bottom of the screen, another signature image emerges: the equestrian figure. Animated from Matsuyama’s The Fall High (2023), this rider draws upon a rich constellation of artistic references, including the equestrian imagery of Frederic Remington (1861–1909), renowned for his depictions of the American West, and Keigetsu Kikuchi (1879–1955), a master of modern Japanese painting. The movement of plovers inspired by the style of Kanō Sansetsu (1590-1651) further animates the foreground, enhancing the sense of depth and amplifying the momentum of the galloping horse and rider. Through this layered composition, Matsuyama creates a dynamic encounter between American and Japanese visual traditions, transforming historical motifs into a contemporary language of motion.

Just as this energy reaches its peak, the work shifts once more. Geometric patterns in red, white, and blue spread across the screens, unfolding into a vibrant patchwork inspired by the American tradition of quilting. Resembling a vast textile map, the composition colors the contours of individual states, suggesting a nation assembled from countless distinct pieces that nevertheless form a larger whole.

Emerging in front of this quilt-like landscape are figures with richly varied skin tones and appearances. These images transcend a simple celebration of diversity. Rather, they function as portraits of America itself—a nation shaped by the continual intersection of cultures, histories, migrations, and identities. Throughout Morning Again, Matsuyama repeatedly returns to the idea that individuality and collectivity are not opposing forces but complementary ones, each contributing to a shared social fabric.

The three-minute experience unfolds with extraordinary intensity, combining dazzling color, rhythmic movement, painterly sophistication, and a sense of playful wonder. Yet when it ends, it feels unexpectedly brief. The viewer is left with a lingering desire to remain within its world a little longer, as though awakening from a vivid dream just before dawn. Like the first light of morning entering the darkness of night, Morning Again leaves behind an enduring impression—one that continues to resonate long after the screens of Times Square have returned to their familiar glow of advertisements and commerce.

The Art Historical Legacy and Contemporary Vision Embedded in Matsuyama’s Work

Commercial advertising and fine art may appear to stand at opposite ends of the cultural spectrum. Throughout art history, however, many of the most significant artistic achievements have been supported by powerful economic structures. Looking at the artists whom Tomokazu Matsuyama has studied, absorbed, and ultimately made part of his own artistic language reveals a continuous relationship between art and patronage.

During the Renaissance, the financial capital of powerful city-states supported artists such as Sandro Botticelli (1445–1510). In France, the state played a crucial role in advancing the career of Jacques-Louis David (1748–1825). With the development of the modern market economy, innovative artistic expressions emerged through figures such as Henri Rousseau (1844–1910) and Pablo Picasso (1881–1973). In postwar America, under the influence of expanding economic power and institutional support, artists including Jackson Pollock (1912–1956), Helen Frankenthaler (1928–2011), Ellsworth Kelly (1923–2015), and Frank Stella (1936–2024) pioneered new directions in avant-garde art.

On the other hand, in Japan, art developed through a distinct system of patronage and cultural production. The publishing culture that supported the ukiyo-e prints of Katsushika Hokusai, the patronage of samurai families and Buddhist temples that sustained the Kanō school painters such as Kanō Sansetsu (1590–1651) and Kanō Eigaku (1790–1867), and the economic and aesthetic sphere surrounding the tea ceremony cultivated by Furuta Shigenari (Oribe) (1544–1615) all provided unique foundations for artistic innovation.

Traversing these Eastern and Western art historical traditions, Tomokazu Matsuyama is an artist who studies, absorbs, and reinterprets masterpieces of the past, combining them with the images and symbols that saturate contemporary life through magazines, advertising, and the internet, as well as visual languages drawn from contemporary anime and popular culture. His work synthesizes Jackson Pollock’s dripping technique, Helen Frankenthaler’s staining process, the formal explorations of Ellsworth Kelly and Frank Stella, while simultaneously drawing upon the compositional strategies of Katsushika Hokusai, the spatial awareness and painterly expression of Kanō Sansetsu, and the radically innovative aesthetic vision of Furuta Oribe. Through this fusion of influences, Matsuyama transforms diverse artistic traditions into a distinctive visual language that is uniquely his own.

The significance of Matsuyama exhibiting in Times Square is considerable. Times Square is perhaps the most visible manifestation of capital in the contemporary world—a place where commerce, advertising, media, and technology converge through an endless spectacle of digital imagery. From corporate billboards to monumental LED displays, it is a site where economic power is continuously projected into public space.

For fine art to intervene in such a setting is not merely a matter of exhibition. Rather, it represents a continuation of the historical relationship between art and patronage that stretches from the merchant capital of Renaissance city-states, through the market economies of modern Europe, the corporate and institutional structures that supported postwar American art, and into the era of global capitalism. In this sense, Times Square functions as a contemporary equivalent of the civic and economic centers that have historically shaped artistic production.

Matsuyama’s presence in Times Square therefore carries profound symbolic weight. His work, forged through a dialogue between Eastern and Western art histories, arrives at one of the world’s foremost centers of commerce and visual culture. By occupying this space, he makes visible the very intersections that have long informed his practice: between tradition and innovation, fine art and popular imagery, local identity and global exchange.

His Times Square exhibition can thus be understood as a culmination of his ongoing exploration of cultural hybridity and visual language. It is an opportunity to present a body of work rooted in centuries of artistic tradition within the epicenter of contemporary image-making. In doing so, Matsuyama not only reaffirms the enduring relationship between art and economic power but also challenges and redefines the boundaries between commerce and artistic expression for the twenty-first century.

A Milestone in American Art

One of the ideas Matsuyama has repeatedly returned to throughout his career is the fact that he began his journey in New York—and within American society—from the position of a minority. Since relocating from Tokyo to New York in January 2002, his artistic practice has been defined by a persistent engagement with a central question: how can an artist rooted in Japanese culture present that cultural inheritance within the framework of Western art history?

Indeed, in interviews for the television program Break Zenya and ONBEAT magazine (broadcast March 21, 2025), Matsuyama explained that a guiding concern of his long artistic career has been how to intervene from the outside in a Western-centric art historical narrative and construct a new visual language capable of expanding its boundaries.

His approach extends far beyond the simple presentation of cultural difference. Rather, it is characterized by methodologies of quotation, sampling, and recomposition, through which multiple cultural layers intersect and coexist. Images drawn from different eras, regions, and traditions occupy the same visual space, creating a complex field of references that resists fixed categories of East and West, past and present.

In this respect, Matsuyama’s work can be understood in relation to postmodern discussions of appropriation and hybridity. Yet his practice ultimately moves beyond theoretical discourse, offering a visual articulation of the layered and fluid nature of identity in a globalized age. Historical fragments, popular culture, religious iconography, fashion, advertising, traditional painting, and contemporary media are woven together into compositions that reflect the realities of cultural exchange and migration. Rather than presenting identity as singular or stable, Matsuyama reveals it as something continually shaped through encounters between multiple histories and traditions.

However, in recent years, a discernible shift has emerged in Matsuyama’s position as an artist. In First Last, his 2025 solo exhibition in Tokyo, he actively incorporated themes of cotemporary American social issues, cultural values, and even Christian iconography and traditions—elements that he had previously approached with relative distance. This marked a significant evolution in his practice. Rather than observing the West from the outside, Matsuyama began to reveal the extent to which he is already deeply embedded within its cultural structures. His work no longer operates primarily as a dialogue with Western culture from an external perspective; instead, it reflects a sensibility grounded in reconnecting cultures, histories, and temporalities from within the very fabric of contemporary society.

Particularly significant within this trajectory is his expansion into public art through Midnight Moment in Times Square. To present a work in such a symbolic public space is meaningful not merely as a professional achievement, but as evidence that his artistic language has begun to resonate with contemporary American culture itself. The inclusion of You, One Me Erase (2023) in the collection of the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art offers another important indication of this shift. It suggests that Matsuyama’s work is increasingly being understood not simply as a Japanese perspective on the West, but as a contribution to the evolving discourse of American art.

His practice can therefore no longer be characterized solely as an engagement with Western art from an external position. Instead, it may be viewed as an effort to reexamine the layered cultures, histories, and identities of American society from within. Drawing upon multiple cultural traditions while refusing to privilege any single one, Matsuyama constructs visual environments that reflect the complexity of contemporary life in the United States.

Seen from this perspective, Matsuyama’s current position extends beyond the conventional framework of “minority expression.” While his experience as an outsider remains an important foundation, it is no longer sufficient to describe the scope of his work. By connecting diverse cultural histories across geographical and temporal boundaries, he has developed a practice that illuminates the complexities of contemporary American society itself. In doing so, he has established a distinct and increasingly influential presence within the broader narrative of American art.

Indeed, what makes Matsuyama’s achievement particularly compelling is that his work does not seek assimilation into an existing canon. Rather, it contributes to redefining what American art can be in the twenty-first century. In an era when cultural identities are increasingly fluid and interconnected, his paintings and public projects propose a vision of American art not as a fixed national tradition, but as a dynamic space of encounter—one in which multiple histories, visual languages, and ways of belonging coexist. If Morning Again demonstrated his ability to speak to a vast public audience, it also suggested something larger: that Matsuyama is no longer simply participating in the story of American art, but helping to shape its future direction.

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Matsuyama’s Public Murals

Bowery Wall, New York

It is also worth considering Tomokazu Matsuyama’s broader engagement with public art in New York. Following his mural Untitled (2019), he returned to the iconic Bowery Wall in 2023 with Color of the City. Widely regarded as one of the most significant sites in the history of street art, the Bowery Wall occupies a symbolic place within New York’s cultural landscape. The wall became internationally famous through the work of Keith Haring in the 1980s and has since hosted projects by major artists including Kenny Scharf (2010), JR (2011, 2018), and Banksy (2018).

Of particular note is the participation of Lady Aiko (b. 1975), who became the first female artist to create a mural at the site in 2012. Matsuyama, in turn, became the first Japanese male artist to be commissioned for the Bowery Wall, marking an important milestone in the site’s history.

The 2019 mural was based on We Met Thru Match.com (2016) and brought together multiple strands of Matsuyama’s visual vocabulary, including his equestrian series and Fictional Landscape works. Expanding upon themes that had already become central to his practice—the intersection of East and West, Japan and America, tradition and contemporary culture—the mural translated these concerns onto a monumental scale.

What astonished many viewers was not merely the size of the work—approximately 19.6 by 65.6 feet (6 by 20 meters)—but the degree to which Matsuyama maintained the density, intricacy, and precision of his studio paintings within such a vast public format. In a setting typically associated with the immediacy, ephemerality, and rapid consumption of street art, he pursued an extraordinary level of finish and compositional complexity. This commitment to refinement, even within a highly public and transient environment, reveals much about his artistic ethos. Rather than adapting his work to the conventions of the street, Matsuyama brought the rigor of painting into the public realm, challenging assumptions about what mural art can achieve and demonstrating that scale need not come at the expense of sophistication.

During the creation of the mural, Matsuyama encountered a question from a passerby that would prove particularly significant: “Why are there no Black people in this work?”. [3] The experience became an important turning point in his thinking. It would later inform subsequent projects and developments, most notably Morning Again in Times Square, where the artist more consciously embraced the racial, cultural, and social diversity that characterizes New York City.

Created using large-scale printing technology, Color of the City depicts the countless individuals who live in, move through, and continually reshape New York. Divided into thirty-three distinct panels, the composition invites viewers to locate themselves within the work, finding reflections of their own experiences among its many figures. Particularly striking is the central frame, the only section in which two individuals are shown leaning toward one another. This subtle gesture may be read symbolically—as an expression of affection for the city itself, or perhaps as an indication of the artist’s empathetic gaze toward the people who inhabit it.

Importantly, the figures represented throughout the mural are not intended to portray specific individuals. Rather, they are constructed as a collective portrait of urban life, embodying the multiplicity of identities that define contemporary New York. Likewise, the multi-panel structure should not be understood as referring to any symbolic numerical system. Instead, it functions as a visual strategy for expressing the city’s fragmentation, diversity, and layered complexity.

Equally compelling is the manner in which the project has been maintained. The Bowery Wall is, by its very nature, a site of continual renewal. Graffiti, interventions, and overpainting are inevitable aspects of its existence. Yet whenever portions of Matsuyama’s mural are damaged or altered, his team has adopted the practice of rapidly replacing and restoring affected sections, preserving the integrity of the image while allowing the work to remain within an environment defined by constant change.

This approach reveals a fascinating tension at the heart of the project. On one hand, the mural inhabits the transient world of street art, where impermanence is often embraced as an essential condition. On the other, Matsuyama actively seeks to sustain the image over time, resisting disappearance without entirely removing it from the urban flux that surrounds it. The work thus occupies a space between ephemerality and permanence, negotiating a unique balance between the two.

Although Color of the City is not a permanent installation, its extended presence within the city transformed it into an ongoing dialogue between the evolving character of the Bowery Wall and the durability of Matsuyama’s visual language. In this respect, the project offers more than a monumental public image; it becomes a reflection on the nature of public art itself. Existing simultaneously as something fluid and enduring, vulnerable and preserved, the mural exemplifies a new mode of artistic practice within the contemporary city—one that acknowledges change while continuing to assert the power of images to endure.

JR Shinjuku Station, Tokyo

An important aspect of Tomokazu Matsuyama’s practice lies in his expansion into sculptural public art. In 2020, he unveiled Hanao-san in the plaza outside the East Exit of JR Shinjuku Station in Tokyo. This was followed in 2022 by Dancer, installed at Flatiron Plaza in New York as part of The Armory Show’s Armory Off-Site program. That same year, he also presented Nirvana Tropicana at the Istanbul Biennial. Together, these projects demonstrate how Matsuyama has extended the concerns of his painting practice into the public realm through sculpture.

A defining characteristic of these works is their highly polished stainless-steel surfaces, which mirror the surrounding cityscape and the people moving through it. Viewers do not merely observe the sculptures from a distance; they discover themselves reflected within them, becoming participants in the work itself. In this way, Matsuyama expands one of the central themes that has long informed his art: the relationship between the artwork and its audience. The act of viewing becomes an act of incorporation, blurring the distinction between object and observer.

At first glance, the segmented forms of these sculptures evoke the fractured geometries of Cubism. Yet Matsuyama has described his ambition somewhat differently, explaining that he wanted “to transform a painterly ideology into sculpture” and to create “a symbolic, almost flat sculptural object”. [4] His remarks suggest a desire to challenge conventional distinctions between painting and sculpture. In this respect, viewers may be reminded of the work of Frank Stella, whose practice famously destabilized the boundary between image and object. Matsuyama’s sculptures similarly operate in a space between two-dimensional representation and three-dimensional form, translating pictorial thinking into physical presence.

The creation of Hanao-san (2020) is particularly revealing in this regard. According to Matsuyama, more than two hundred facial models were developed during the design process as he searched for a form that would be simultaneously unfamiliar and universally approachable—something “no one had ever seen before,” yet possessing “an opening through which anyone could enter”. [5] The resulting figure avoids reference to any specific individual or narrative. Instead, it functions as an open symbol, inviting a wide range of interpretations and personal associations.

Within Tokyo’s urban landscape, public artworks often serve as landmarks and meeting places. The iconic Hachikō Statue, created by Teru Andō in 1934 (recast in 1948), and Myth of Tomorrow by Tarō Okamoto (1968–1969) are among the most notable examples. In this context, Hanao-san likewise established a new point of convergence within the fast-paced and heterogeneous environment of Shinjuku—a place where people pause, gather, and encounter one another.

Yet the significance of the work extends beyond its function as a meeting point. Through its mirrored stainless-steel surface, Hanao-san continuously absorbs fragments of the city, reflecting shifting crowds, changing weather, and the evolving rhythms of urban life. The sculpture never appears exactly the same from one moment to the next. Moreover, Matsuyama designed a vibrant graphic intervention that extends across the surrounding plaza floor, creating an integrated environment in which sculpture and public space become inseparable.

As a result, the project does more than occupy space; it actively reshapes it. The colorful ground plane encourages movement, pause, and interaction, generating new patterns of circulation and gathering. A location that might once have functioned merely as a point of transit is transformed into a destination with its own visual identity and social energy. In this sense, Hanao-san exemplifies the broader ambition of Matsuyama’s public art; he strives not simply to place an object within the city, but to alter how people experience the city itself. By introducing new rhythms, new encounters, and new ways of seeing, the work enriches the urban landscape and leaves a lasting imprint on the collective memory of Shinjuku.