Collaging Fragments of Memory, Iconography, and Philosophy with Tomokazu Matsuyama

Interview by Michelle Grey | Introduction by Lameah Nayeem | Photography by Chad Moore

Much of Tomokazu Matsuyama’s work dissolves binaries. Whether fraying the dichotomy of viewership models offered by galleries versus public murals, or eclipsing any distinctions between past and present, his works inhabit the in-between. Born in the mid-seventies in Gifu, Japan, and frequently moving between the United States and his hometown, Matsuyama’s aesthetic codes are as itinerant as his youth. Fragments of California’s skateboarding culture are spliced with memories of Matsuyama’s snowboarding in the Japanese mountains, and edged by a graphic design education that shaped the roots of his early artistic practice.

Matsuyama’s Aquarian approach to his multidisciplinary practice results in dreamscapes bursting with colour, frenetic visual embellishments, and dizzying compositions. Between plum blossoms and wisteria, his works twist Edo and Meiji era flourishes with the historically rococo swing of French art. The sheer scale of his works, often consuming entire walls at galleries, translates naturally into murals, such as his celebrated commissions on the Bowery Wall in the East Village, which began in 2019. 

Atemporal and ahistorical, Matsuyama’s works are the ellipsis tailing the past from the present and future, of Eastern and Western cultures and categories of flux. His large-scale compositions dart between ‘90s youth culture collectanea, both material and immaterial, and references to fashion magazines and global popular culture. Matsuyama’s works are meditations on the complexity of identity in our current age, a rebellion against the discrete categorization of our existence, and allude to the ways we operate across digital, symbolic, and tangible worlds.

Tomokazu Matsuyama, 20 Dollar Cold Cold Heart, 2019, acrylic and mixed media on canvas, 267 x 172 cm. © Tomokazu Matsuyama, courtesy of Tomokazu Matsuyama Studio.

Michelle Grey: Can you tell me about the street art and murals you visited with the photographer Chad Moore?

Tomokazu Matsuyama: The shoot with Chad became more of a walk through the East Village than a specific street art survey. That neighborhood has always fascinated me—not just for the art on the walls, but for how the city itself feels like a living, breathing canvas. One of the most memorable moments was when we stopped in front of my own mural on the Bowery Wall. It’s a site that hosts some of the most iconic names in contemporary art, and contributing to that lineage is something I feel deeply connected to. The layered textures of the area—old tags, cracked surfaces, spontaneous gestures—really resonated with the themes I explore in my work. It was less about finding art and more about being in dialogue with a place shaped by ongoing creative expression.

MG: Your work fuses traditional Japanese motifs with global pop and street culture—how do you approach creating a visual language that feels both deeply personal and globally resonant?

TM: For me, this fusion isn’t about placing one culture over another. It’s about reflecting the complexity of identity today. I grew up surrounded by Japanese traditions, but I was also shaped by the global youth culture of the 90s—skateboarding, snowboarding, mixtapes. That blend shaped how I think visually. I’m not trying to represent any one culture in a static way; instead, I collage fragments of memory, iconography, and philosophy into something that feels honest to my own experience as someone who straddles multiple contexts. It’s about being in flux—and embracing that.

MG: There’s an intentional clash of pattern, color, and style in your paintings. What does that kind of visual overload express for you?

TM: That overload reflects how we live now—constantly switching between windows, images, contexts. I see it as a form of emotional architecture. By layering contrasting elements, I create a kind of visual noise that holds meaning. It’s not random; the clash is deliberate. Each layer references something—history, fashion, nature, or politics—and how these elements coexist in our daily lives. It’s an attempt to contain chaos within a harmonious structure.

MG: How do you navigate the tension between ornamentation and narrative in your work?

TM: In Japanese art, ornamentation has always had a deeper resonance. It’s never “just decorative.” Even a tea bowl or an arrangement of seasonal flowers can carry immense symbolic meaning. I apply that thinking to painting. The ornate surfaces are part of the story—they reflect lived experience, emotion, and memory. At the same time, I’m conscious of how the viewer moves through the work. The narrative doesn’t unfold linearly; it’s felt through visual rhythms, echoes, and interruptions. 

MG: As a Japanese-born, New York–based artist, how do you process cultural identity in your work? Is it something you consciously explore or something that simply is?

TM: It’s not something I over-intellectualize. Identity shows up whether you want it to or not. Having lived in New York for over 20 years, I’m shaped by this city just as much as I am by Japanese aesthetics. I think of it less as a binary and more as a spectrum. My work reflects that—it's both rooted and hybrid. Sometimes I consciously lean into specific themes, but often they emerge naturally through the visual language I’ve developed.

Tomokazu Matsuyama, Mother Other, 2023, FRP, wood, steel, epoxy, polyurethane and acrylic, 196 x 118 x 104cm. © Tomokazu Matsuyama, courtesy of Tomokazu Matsuyama Studio.

MG: Your pieces often feel like they’re in constant motion—figures floating between time zones, eras, and traditions. Do you think of your art as a metaphor for globalisation?

TM: Yes, but maybe more as a reflection of lived globalization than a metaphor. The figures in my work are suspended—they exist in transitional states. That speaks to how many of us navigate the world today: physically, digitally, and emotionally. We’re influenced by multiple systems at once. I try to visualise that blur—that in-betweenness—because I think it defines our time.

MG: What’s your process like—do you start with a narrative, a color palette, or a single shape and let it build organically?

TM: It’s usually an image, a color, or even a mood that triggers the process. I collect fragments—some physical, some digital—and start building from there. It’s intuitive, layered. I might draw from unarchived references, fashion magazines, classical painting, and even family photos. Over time, a narrative emerges, but it’s more emotional than linear.

MG: You’ve worked on public art projects as well as large-scale solo exhibitions. What space feels most exciting or challenging for you right now?

TM: Each space brings different challenges—and that’s what excites me. Public art forces me to consider scale, accessibility, and how a viewer might encounter the work by chance. Gallery exhibitions allow me to construct immersive narratives and environments. Right now, I’m interested in pushing the boundaries between the two—creating works that are immersive, site-specific, but also deeply conceptual.