Yuima Nakazato —“Communicating through the language of clothing may be something that people across different cultures and throughout history can understand relatively easily”

YUIMA NAKAZATO occupies a singular position within contemporary Haute Couture, where Japanese cultural heritage, artisanal knowledge, technological research and a profound interest in transformation converge. Since entering the Paris Haute Couture calendar, his practice has consistently questioned the conventional boundaries of the garment — proposing couture not simply as an object of exceptional craftsmanship, but as an evolving relationship between material, technology, identity and the human body. His latest Couture Fall/Winter 2026–27 collection, INFERNO, extends this investigation through the elemental duality of fire and water, drawing upon the volcanic landscapes of the Canary Islands and the transformative traditions of Japanese theatre. In this conversation with The Runway Source, Nakazato reflects on the spiritual dimensions of creation, the dialogue between ancient knowledge and technological possibility, the cultural significance of presenting Japanese creativity on the Parisian couture stage, and what the future of Haute Couture might ultimately ask of us.

Your practice exists at the intersection of fashion, sculpture, technology and performance. Do you still consider the garment to be the centre of your artistic practice, or has clothing become one medium within a broader exploration of transformation, identity and the human body?

YN: Yes, I believe that exploring these questions can offer clues as to what it means to be human — where we come from and where we are going. One of the key points is that, on this planet, humans are the only species that wear clothing. We are the only species that extends the body by placing materials borrowed from other species or plants onto it, rather than relying on something generated by the body itself, such as fur.

Clothing allowed us to extend the body in order to adapt to environments such as heat and cold, making it possible to travel to and inhabit different parts of the world. But beyond that, humans have formed communities and use clothing as a form of nonverbal communication, through which we recognize one another’s relationships, circumstances, and social positions.

This is what makes exploring the question of what clothing is so fascinating to me: through it, we gradually come to understand something about what it means to be human. I am inspired by the ways in which humans respond and react to the natural environment and society, and I translate those responses back into clothing.

If I were to use an analogy, clothing might be paint for me, and the body might be the canvas. But unlike painting or sculpture, clothing is something extremely close to every human being. In that sense, communicating through the language of clothing may be something that people across different cultures and throughout history can understand relatively easily.

Japanese culture carries a profound sensitivity towards impermanence, transformation and the passage of time. How deeply do these ideas inform your understanding of clothing and creation, even when they are not consciously articulated within a collection?

YN: I sometimes feel a sense of disconnect between the fact that the human body is constantly changing from birth to death and the fact that clothing, despite being an extension of the body, does not change alongside it. I have always wondered whether it would be more ideal for clothing to exist in a state that allows it to transform along with the wearer.

Perhaps this idea is connected to the philosophy embedded in the Japanese kimono. Its patterns are made from rectangles, a form that contrasts with the shape of the human body. As a result, while it does not fit anyone perfectly, it can ultimately envelop people of different body types by adjusting how it is worn, such as the way the front is overlapped or the obi is tied.

Because of its simple rectangular construction, the length can easily be adjusted, and the seven rectangular pieces can be taken apart and individual sections of fabric can be replaced. In this way, the garment can transform not only according to the life of the wearer, but also continue to adapt when it passes to a new owner.

Perhaps this has a connection to the Japanese philosophy of time.

On a somewhat different note, one reason I have become interested in ceramics in recent years is precisely because of how extremely slowly this material changes. It can retain its form for tens of thousands of years. I have a desire to wear a time scale that transcends human understanding, and to create these ceramic dresses as a means of communicating with humanity tens of thousands of years from now. I feel that doing so allows me to look at humanity from a broader perspective.

Perhaps this is a small act of resistance against the ever-changing nature of the world — the Japanese sense of mujō, or impermanence.

You often bring traditional Japanese craftsmanship into dialogue with advanced technologies and experimental materials. Do you see technology as a departure from tradition, or can it become another form through which ancestral knowledge continues to evolve?

YN: Traditional forms often become increasingly disconnected from contemporary values and ways of thinking, particularly because they do not align with today's economic rationality. As a result, they can be left behind by the times and gradually disappear, making them relatively vulnerable in today's society.

Technology, on the other hand, can align with contemporary thinking and connect with the economy, giving it significant power and social influence. However, technology often has no history of its own, and therefore lacks an inherent story or context.

Traditional practices, by contrast, have histories and can carry many different stories. I began to think that these two could complement what the other lacks. If we can combine them, they may create greater depth, while also giving traditional practices an opportunity to remain part of the world.

Your work challenges the historical exclusivity of Haute Couture through modularity, repairability and new approaches to bespoke creation. Can accessibility itself become a form of luxury, and what might luxury mean when individuality is no longer defined solely by rarity?

YN: In my interpretation, if clothing has the potential to exist as contemporary art in its most developed form, I believe that potential lies in Haute Couture. And, like public art, I think Haute Couture may increasingly become something that many people can encounter and draw inspiration from.

In that sense, it may be a form of democratization of Haute Couture.

I believe the meaning of luxury may gradually become the act of contemplating a story through an object. More than whether something is rare or expensive, if the person looking at it can discover a story within it and continue to contemplate that story over a long period of time, I believe that is something deeply precious to us as human beings.

You have presented within the official Paris Haute Couture calendar since 2016. What does Paris represent to you today — an institution to participate in, a historical language to engage with, or a stage from which to question what Haute Couture can become?

YN: Perhaps the reason I feel such a passion to challenge Paris is precisely because it is a place with such a long history — a history that has repeatedly been broken apart, renewed, and redefined by great designers.

It is not easy to break through the philosophies that have been built up over time. You have to keep confronting them, thinking about them, and challenging them again and again before you can begin to find an opening. One or two attempts are not enough to make a difference. You have to continue engaging with them without allowing your time and energy to run out.

Perhaps this is also a way of having a dialogue with people of the past, present, and future. If the history of Paris will continue into the future, then perhaps what I am doing by presenting here may one day be discovered by someone in the future and give them some form of inspiration.

Perhaps there is nowhere else in the world quite like Paris in this respect.

As a Japanese designer working within one of the most historically European institutions in fashion, how do you navigate the responsibility of bringing Japanese cultural references to an international audience without reducing them to aesthetic symbols?

YN: More than 150 years ago, Japan underwent a major cultural transformation, moving from the kimono to Western-style clothing. After World War II, American culture also entered Japan on a large scale. In a sense, it is as though European and American cultures have been layered over Japan's own cultural foundation.

Japan imported cultures from outside while believing that its own culture was inferior. Yet today, everything from Japanese food to anime and games — from traditional culture to contemporary content — is embraced around the world.

In clothing as well, Japan's unique street cultures have often inspired people around the world, and I find that very encouraging and something to be proud of.

As one of the designers who carries this historical and cultural background as part of my identity, I believe it is very important for me to propose ideas about the future of clothing within the world of couture.

Your practice extends beyond fashion into theatre, opera and ballet. What has performance taught you about transformation that the conventional fashion runway cannot fully express?

YN: The world of the performing arts is extremely fascinating to me. Costumes are required to support the functionality needed for unconventional physical movements, while also making the body distinctive within the vast space of a stage or theater. At the same time, they must communicate, nonverbally, the characteristics of the performer as someone who conveys a story to the audience.

This expands the possibilities of design and gives me a great deal of inspiration.

More than anything, I value being able to see the stage from the audience seats. In a conventional fashion show, the designer is backstage and cannot actually watch the runway, whereas in performing arts, I can watch rehearsals and the final performance from the audience. This allows me to make many discoveries.

Conversations with performers are also an important source of inspiration for me. Through spending a great deal of time together during fittings and rehearsals, from understanding what functions they need, to learning about their everyday lifestyles, I encounter many different forms of stimulation and inspiration.

Your Fall/Winter 2026–27 Couture collection, INFERNO, is built around the opposing yet complementary forces of fire and water. What did these elements allow you to explore about creation, destruction and the fragile balance between them?

YN: For me, I wanted to explore whether the relationship between fire and water could serve as a metaphor for the cycle of irrational conflicts taking place in the world today, as well as a metaphor for good and evil.

Both fire and water are essential elements of human life. At the same time, both can pose a threat to humanity, and they also exist in a relationship in which they can counteract one another. In this sense, I see them as two sides of the same coin, maintaining a certain balance with one another.

I expressed this relationship through images of ocean waves, digitally processed in red. When seen in blue, they appear to be the sea; when turned red, they become a sea of fire. Through this transformation, I wanted to express the idea of duality — that something can become an entirely different entity through only a subtle change.

The collection draws upon monogi, the Japanese theatrical tradition of revealing costume transformation before the audience. What fascinates you about making transformation visible, rather than concealing the process through which one identity becomes another?

YN: For example, if a person were to transform somewhere out of sight, they might not necessarily be recognized as the same person. But if that transformation happened directly in front of you, you would clearly recognize that the same person had transformed.

I believe monogi has this kind of theatrical effect — it allows the audience to recognize and understand transformation as it happens.

For this collection, it was essential to show the transformation from the sea into a sea of fire on stage through monogi. I wanted to show how a single garment could transform and acquire an entirely different meaning.

The wisdom of those who came before us has been thought through with remarkable depth. I felt that monogi was an indispensable device for communicating the theme of this collection, so I structured the entire collection around this concept of transformation.

Throughout your work, technology appears not simply as a means of production but as a way of expanding what the imagination can conceive. If technology eventually allows us to create almost anything, what do you believe Haute Couture must continue to protect as uniquely human?

YN: Until several decades ago, clothing was something people made with their own hands. Today, however, clothing has become something we purchase, with its production outsourced.

If advances in AI, robotics, and other technologies significantly transform the nature of labor in the future, people may once again have an enormous amount of time in their lives. Just as people may return to preparing their own food at home, there is a possibility that many people will once again place greater value on making their own clothes.

At that point, we may rediscover the value of making clothing by hand and of wearing a one-of-a-kind garment.

I believe what Haute Couture will ultimately continue to protect is the idea that clothing for people should be made by human hands. Ultimately, I imagine a world in which everyone will have access to Haute Couture.

After a decade of questioning the relationship between craftsmanship, technology, individuality and the wearer, what is the one quality you believe couture must never lose — regardless of how radically the future of fashion changes?

YN: Clothing is an act unique to human beings on this planet, and I believe it will continue to exist, even as it changes, as an important means through which we understand what it means to be human.

As long as human beings continue to connect with one another and form communities, clothing will remain an ongoing human practice.

If we define couture as the act of a person putting their thoughts and feelings into making something by hand for another person, I believe it will continue to exist not simply as a privileged practice for a select few, but as a profound philosophy and aesthetic that many — and eventually all — people should be able to experience.