A few months ago, I was sitting at an Izakaya in Ginza with Paul. I was giddly, proudly sharing one of my old ura-michi finds, a quiet coffee shop in Jimbocho.
It’s not hard to fall in love with a coffee shop, but that doesn’t make the feeling any less real or personal, and I love every detail of this place. The hard, low wooden chairs that make you shift from cheek to cheek every few minutes, the muted ticking clock in an otherwise silent back room, the old maps of Tokyo on the smoke-stained walls. I brought American friends here when they were in town, had pencil-sketching dates with Eiko, and spent many afternoons alone, creating quilt-like pixel patterns for an indulgent Flash portfolio site, that once sat at this very domain, and in the end, brought me exactly zero steps closer to making a living as a designer in Tokyo.
Years later, sitting with Paul, I could sense that my story about the coffee shop wasn’t nearly as interesting for him in content (he doesn’t drink coffee) as it was in spirit, but the spirit he knew very well. He commented on how it seems like all foreigners living in Tokyo have places like this, and how these places and the moments we experience at them shape our personal connection with Tokyo. He wondered whether there wasn’t something special about Tokyo itself that caused this bubbling raw emotion, and whether there isn’t some way of sharing these places and stories that is meaningful for all the people who have, are, or dream of passing through this city.
We knew immediately the idea was exciting, but one that could go horribly wrong, veering off into soggy sentimentality or dry reviews. This site would require a clear concept and editorial discipline to get right. So we called on our officemate Craig, who just happens to make exsquisite English books about Japan and design and develop websites.
A few months and many Royal Host coffee and eggs later, we have hitotoki, a literary website mapping personal narratives about Tokyo, written by curious outsiders.
Hitotoki is exactly 2 days old, 7 stories large, and accepting submissions.
Every pixel and word of this site has been a collaboration of some sort, a privledge I don’t take lightly. Photoshop tennis among designers is not always comfortable, but, I think hitotoki proves it’s not only possible, but can result in beauty. Even the logo evolved from a sketch in my notebook by Paul, iterated by Craig, then back to Paul, before being carved in stone (literally) by Eiko.
Much thanks also to David and Bruce from Chin Music Press in helping us refine the hitotoki concept and voice. Not to make too much of it, but I don’t think it a total coincidence that this blog’s first post is as much about writing as design. I may not be ready to reveal my own hitotoki quite yet, but working on the site with these guys has clearly awoken something.