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Low Shi Ping

“There’s a snake.”
Shinya Kobayashi points his phone camera at a sleek, black reptile, creating a trinity of S-shapes in the dirt, before calmly walking on. It is a remarkably cheerful day, with blue skies overhead and dense, emerald forest all around.
The 39-year-old designer, artist and father is taking me on a virtual tour of his own mountain, in Japan’s Shimane prefecture, along Honshu island’s western fringe. Nearby are a recently built blacksmith’s forge, sawmill, woodworking workshop, charcoal kilns and a renovated 200-year-old farmhouse, currently serving as storage space.
Mujun Planet, as Kobayashi has named the mountain and its tiny “village”, has been six years in the making. While the hardware might seem modest, he hopes its impact on the neighbouring town of Yunotsu, and the broader realm of Japanese craftsmanship, will be profound.

Metalworking is his focus for now. Blades from the forge made into knives are sold in Japan and around the world through Coelacanth Shokudo, his design company that, among other activities, manages the wholesale distribution of artisanal products.
All this and more are chronicled in the Hyogo native’s recently released, self-published book, Why Did Mujun’s Shinya Kobayashi Buy a Mountain?
“I have long worked to resolve the issue of artisan succession,” he tells me. “However, there are numerous problems that cannot be solved without entering the mountains to work, and I want people to understand why.”
To appreciate the seemingly tenuous connection between the two is to plunge into the depths of Kobayashi’s world – an adventure he has chosen for himself. On the surface, his mission revolves around self-sufficiency, breaking free from the dependence on imported tools necessary for various artisanal endeavours. His mountain and its surroundings serve as a natural reservoir of raw materials.
Take the knife – an essential tool across all crafts. It is why a forge was among the first components at Mujun Planet, operated by 29-year-old blacksmith Koharu Yamaguchi. As Kobayashi enters her workspace during our virtual tour, visible behind her is a tray of neatly arranged blades, their sharp edges catching the light.

Yamaguchi receives a steady supply of iron sand and charcoal from Yunotsu, historically renowned for tatara, the ancient Japanese method of ironmaking. For the knife handles, wood is harvested from the large branches of trees, as part of ongoing forest maintenance.
“The decline of craftsmanship has accelerated dramatically in recent years,” says Kobayashi. “I have always believed that nurturing successors for steelmaking artisans is vital to stemming this tide, and this conviction has now become a tangible reality.”
He is not alone in his beliefs. Growing numbers of young Japanese are eager to pursue careers in artisanal trades, and many are modernising traditional processes and finding innovative ways to share their stories. But few have adopted Kobayashi’s maverick methods.
His decision to buy a mountain is closely tied to his mission of promoting satoyama. Literally meaning “village” (sato) and “mountain” (yama), it originally described the landscape between these two realms.
Over time, it has evolved into a philosophy that deeply respects nature and tradition, advocating sustainability and living in rhythm with the seasons.
The past six years have been dedicated to laying a foundation for this vision. At Mujun Planet, overgrown trees have been cleared, mountain streams rejuvenated and neglected agriculture plots revived and nurtured.

As much as possible, local cedar is used, such as for the construction of buildings. In the farmhouse, Kobayashi’s pride is palpable as he highlights a smooth, 4.5-metre-long beam – crafted from a single trunk – supporting the roof. Plans are under way to turn the space into an atelier for emerging artisans.
“Sustainability is most crucial in resolving the issue of succession,” Kobayashi says. “It exists only through cycles and it is precisely because they have been practised for so long that we have traditional crafts. Within them lies an unbroken culture and way of life.
“That’s why I believe it is essential to revive the spirit of satoyama, which has been forgotten over the last 100 years or so.”
Compounding this challenge is society’s diminishing appreciation of Japan’s mountains. The costs associated with their management and maintenance have soared, leading many families to hesitate at the prospect of passing down or, indeed, inheriting such legacies.
Kobayashi says that after World War II, conifers such as cedar and cypress were planted as part of a new national policy for post-war reconstruction. Unfortunately, the initiative was quickly overshadowed by the influx of cheap, uniform meranti wood from Southeast Asia. This coincided with a population explosion in Japan that spurred the construction of inexpensive, simple houses throughout the country.

As a result, the conifers were left to languish and are now severely degraded. Undeterred by these challenges, however, Kobayashi seized an opportunity in 2020, when he learned from a local temple that a nearby 200,000 square metre mountain was being sold for just 1 million yen (US$6,230 at that time).
Today, the Mujun Planet community comprises seven members, three of whom are full-time “residents”, including Kobayashi. Their lodgings are a two-minute drive away, between the mountain and Yunotsu, and visitors are accommodated in a guest house behind his home.
Their workday begins at 8.30am and ends at sunset. In between caring for free-range chickens, the members engage in woodworking, grass cutting and tree-felling. Kobayashi himself travels far and wide occasionally – such as to design events in Europe and, recently, Singapore – to attract others to join him on his planet.
He also gives talks and holds workshops, including hosting a training and team-building retreat for a high-end blade-making brand.
Already, his efforts are beginning to bear fruit. Kobayashi speaks of young, like-minded nationals and non-Japanese finding their way to Mujun Planet, eager to become craftspeople or to experience satoyama. One, in particular, has embraced the lifestyle wholeheartedly: a Canadian-Chinese construction worker from the United States, who wants to build a house on the mountain, is currently working with Kobayashi on its design.

Then there’s the elderly Japanese blade maker whose speciality is scissor-making. Kobayashi tells how the man had given up on finding his successor only to change his mind after learning about Mujun Planet. He now plans to help train someone to take over his business.
While it might be easy to blame the dismal state of artisan succession on youthful indifference or the inability of senior craftspeople to think outside the box, the causes run deeper.
“The root of the problem lies in the social structure itself,” Kobayashi says, adding that one consequence is the homogeneity of many Japanese regions. “Japan became an economic powerhouse with astonishing speed, alongside its post-war reconstruction. Massive capitalist economies, and [the allure of] convenience, have ultimately devoured the regions and their cultures. Most Japanese regions now look identical – the same houses, the same shops, the same scenery.”
Moreover, issues of low profitability persist, stemming from inadequate distribution channels and ignorance around branding and marketing. Kobayashi has also heard of parents who choose not to support the continuation of their crafts. These elderly artisans want their children ­­– whose university education they funded ­– to find well-paid, city-based jobs, he says.
Kobayashi understands the push and pull personally, having witnessed similar issues in his own family’s traditional paper-mounting business in Ono city, Hyogo prefecture. He recalls a bustling business during his primary school years, in the 1990s, before Japan’s economic bubble burst and fortunes declined in the 2000s. “I increasingly saw my father looking rather idle. I’d often chime in with suggestions such as, ‘Why don’t you try sales?’ ­which led to frequent arguments.”

After his father, Michiaki, took over what would become a third-generation business, he made little effort to attract more customers, believing that they would appear if he simply waited. “I felt a strong sense of crisis seeing him just waiting like that,” recalls Kobayashi. “At the same time, I gradually came to understand that it was very difficult for him to suddenly adopt new ideas or put them into action.”
External factors compounded their challenges. Paper mounting involves replacing washi paper on sliding doors, folding screens and hanging scrolls marking significant ceremonies, such as weddings and funerals.
However, many of these events have moved away from the traditional settings of homes. “Culture has disappeared from communities,” Kobayashi says, adding that most Japanese now aspire to Western-style residences, rendering such time-worn Japanese features obsolete.
“The decline of regional culture, economy and local craftsmanship feels like just the tip of the iceberg. Perhaps I still want to do something about this today – or perhaps I just wanted to help my father. He passed away in March [2025].”

Kobayashi has the foundations for action. He studied product design at the Osaka University of Arts, graduating in 2010. The following year, he founded Coelacanth Shokudo to help revitalise traditional crafts.
“I was a young man who didn’t know his right from his left, a know-it-all with a head full of design education only applicable in the city,” he says. “But my enthusiasm was second to none. I was confident that with passion, ideas and skills, I could overcome any obstacle. My sense of urgency stemmed from a feeling that if I didn’t act quickly, it would be too late.”
Since 2013, Coelacanth Shokudo has focused on developing sales channels in Europe and America, collaborating with artisan businesses to generate income. This was formalised with the launch of the wholesale brand “Mujun” (meaning “contradiction”) in 2016.
From this initiative emerged a diverse range of products, including homeware, scissors, bags and wrapping cloth (furoshiki) made from vintage kimono fabric. Two years later, Mujun Workshop was established as a platform to nurture young craftspeople who would succeed retiring artisans.

Then there are the products he has designed for others, Kinjo Japan included. Kobayashi’s silicone cup collection, sold in Hong Kong at Wing On department stores, consists of silicone-rubber drinking vessels as transparent as regular glass and inspired by the Japanese kiriko tradition of glass cutting.
Kobayashi appears to have all his ducks in a row. Back on the mountain, he swings his phone from side to side, enthusiastically discussing upcoming projects.
Coils of hosepipes await connection to a small river about 200 metres up the mountain, promising an independent water supply. A barely visible track between tall hedges will soon become a road leading to fields where rice will be cultivated. He is also expecting the arrival of a Chinese-made dynamo to provide stable, independent power.
After the tour, he sits cross-legged on a dirt road with a colleague, who multitasks as his interpreter.
“Good internet connection here,” he says, when asked if he’d prefer moving to a more comfortable spot, such as the cedar-wood picnic bench and table built by the community.

He hopes to continue nurturing the satoyama way of life through Mujun Planet, while forging new connections domestically and internationally. On the family front, his wife, Misato, is learning the art of creating hanging scrolls from his mother, Misako, and he is exploring introducing the technique into his own art. Although his family’s paper-mounting enterprise ended with his father, some of the skills promise to live on.
“My ultimate goal is to sustain this satoyama life with my family. My dream is to be a sculptor, carving stone and wood using chisels I forge myself from iron sand,” he says. “I want to create a future where families engaged in various crafts live in these mountains, where children roam freely through the hills, drink mountain water and catch insects.”


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Architecture and design

Mujun Planet: one man’s quest to revive Japan’s artisanal legacy

Shinya Kobayashi beside a cedar, the wood he uses as much as possible 
in the construction of his “village”. Photo: courtesy Mujun 

Mujun Planet, the village on Shinya Kobayashi’s mountain in Japan’s Shimane prefecture, has been six years in the making. Photo: courtesy Mujun 

Blacksmith Koharu Yamaguchi in Mujun Planet’s forge and workshop. Photo: courtesy Mujun 

A “Fuji” knife, by Mujun. Photo: courtesy Mujun 

One of the crafts practised at Mujun Planet is the weaving of bamboo strips in yatara (random) style to make functional products. Photo: courtesy Mujun 

A Mujun bag, made from vintage kimono fabric. Photo: courtesy Mujun 

Shinya Kobayashi works on a cedar tree trunk. Photo: courtesy Mujun 

The Mujun Planet farmhouse. Photo: courtesy Mujun 

One of Mujun’s upcycled kimono products. Photo: courtesy Mujun 

Visitors dine at cedar-wood picnic table and benches built by the Mujun Planet community. Photo: courtesy Mujun 

A journey through landmarks of US craftsmanship

A horse-drawn carriage takes visitors around Colonial Williamsburg, in Virginia. Photo: Getty Images

The Grand Teton National Park, in Wyoming, hosts demonstrations of indigenous arts and culture. Photo: Instagram/usinterior

The Severinus Durfey Tailoring Shop, part of the living-history museum at Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia. Photo: Getty Images

The Martin Guitar Factory in Pennsylvania. Photo: Shutterstock

A 37-metre-tall steel replica of Babe Ruth’s bat at the Louisville Slugger Museum and Factory in Kentucky. Photo: Shutterstock

The Harley-Davidson Museum in Milwaukee. Photo: Shutterstock

A log cabin at the John C. Campbell Folk School, Brasstown, North Carolina. Photo: courtesy John C. Campbell Folk School

Boeing 787 jets are processed at the aeroplane manufacturer’s Everett factory, in Washington. Photo: Shutterstock

Chinese American Historical Museum at the Ng Shing Gung, San Jose, California. Photo: Shutterstock

Bhutan’s heritage arts become the frontline of cultural preservation as modernity dawns

Kinley Tshering paints a thangka of Vajrakilaya, a wrathful deity of Vajrayana Buddhism, Bhutan’s state religion, at the Exotic Art Gallery, in Punakha district, Bhutan. Photo: Jen Paolini

Punakha Dzong sits at the confluence of the Pho Chhu and Mo Chhu waterways, in Punakha district, Bhutan. Photo: Jen Paolini

A monk walking across the first courtyard of Punakha Dzong, in Punakha district, Bhutan. Jen Paolini

A collection of thangkas on display inside the Exotic Art Gallery, in Punakha district, Bhutan. Photo: Jen Paolini

A close-up of Kinley Tshering’s in-progress thangka. Photo: Jen Paolini

Kinga Tshering (left) and Kinley Tshering, at the Exotic Art Gallery, in Punakha district, Bhutan. Photo: Jen Paolini

A man, wearing a gho, Bhutan’s national dress, waits inside the third courtyard of Punakha Dzong, in Punakha district, Bhutan. Photo: Jen Paolini

Bhutan’s traditional architecture is richly decorated, with distinct wood-carved features. Photo: Jen Paolini

A master weaver at work on a pangthag backstrap loom, at the Royal Textile Academy, in Thimphu, Bhutan. Bhutanese yarn tends to be spun from such materials as sheep’s wool, yak’s hair, cotton, nettle and eri silk, and coloured with foraged ingredients such as turmeric, walnut and indigo, although synthetically dyed yarn is also used. Photo: Jen Paolini

A kishuthara, the first-prize winner of the 2010 National Design Competition, at the Royal Textile Academy, in Thimphu, Bhutan. Different dzongkhags (districts) are known for their distinctive weaves. Photo: Jen Paolini

A man wearing a patterned gho, turns prayer wheels near Tachog Lhakhang, in Paro, Bhutan. Weaving a gho can take anywhere from two weeks to several months, depending on the complexity of the pattern. Photo: Jen Paolini

A master weaver at work at the Royal Textile Academy, in Thimphu, Bhutan. Photo: Jen Paolini

A kira, woven with synthetically dyed silk, at the Royal Textile Academy, in Thimphu, Bhutan. Jen Paolini

Dancers, wearing Bhutan’s national dress, gho for men and kira for women, perform at the Folk Heritage Museum, in Thimphu’s Kawajangsa district, Bhutan. Photo: Jen Paolini

VAST Bhutan, in Thimphu, exhibits contemporary Dzongkha calligraphy by Karma Jurmi. Photo: Jen Paolini

Bhutanese arts and crafts are deeply rooted in the spiritual teachings of Buddhism. Photo: Jen Paolini

Bhutan’s famous Tiger’s Nest Monastery (Paro Taktsang) is perched at approx. 3,120 metres above sea level. Photo: Jen Paolini

Wooden masks hang inside a workshop at the Folk Heritage Museum, in Thimphu, Bhutan. Parzo (wood carving) is one of the 13 traditional arts and crafts recognised by Bhutan as part of its cultural identity. Photo: Jen Paolini

The fifth wall: how ceilings became the next frontier in interior design

At Maison Belle, a show flat for Paliburg Group at Mount Regalia, Kau To Shan, Alexander Wong Architects went all out with chandeliers and mirrored ceilings. Photo: courtesy Alexander Wong Architects

For Natura, in Mid-Levels, Alexander Wong Architects continued timber floorboards up the walls and overhead, creating a “whimsical, but also practical” feature. Photo: courtesy Alexander Wong Architects

Ceilings needn’t be linear, says Nelson Chow, of NC Design and Architecture. A metallic finish adds drama to the organic flow of a sculpted ceiling in this Southside home. Photo: courtesy Common Studio

In this 300 sq ft North Point flat, ABT design studio inverted the idea of a platform, making use of ceiling space to provide overhead storage. Photo: courtesy ABT design studio

Overhead storage in the 300 sq ft North Point flat, by ABT design studio. Photo: courtesy ABT design studio

The refined boho interior of this Victoria Harbour-view apartment in Sai Wan Ho, designed by Norman Ung of Design Eight Five Two (DEFT), has a laid-back coastal feeling that chimes with its surfer owner, Kevin Gui. Photo: Alexander Mak

Global attractions that ooze innovation and imagination

The Chengdu Science Fiction Museum offers
a deep dive into the history and future of
Chinese and global science-fiction. Photo: Getty Images

A “colossal interstellar spacecraft” was the inspiration behind the Shenzhen Science & Technology Museum. Photo: Edmond So

In 2023, the Chengdu Science Fiction Museum hosted the Hugo Awards, widely considered the Oscars of the sci-fi literary world. Photo: Xinhua

The Supertrees at Singapore’s Gardens by the Bay serve as vertical beds for more than 160,000 plants. Photo: Matilde Gattoni

Opened in April, the Inventor Garage at Toyota’s Woven City serves as a hub for tech showcases, AI demonstrations and collaborative events. Photo: courtesy Toyota Woven City

The Museu de les Ciències, in Valencia, Spain, was built to resemble the skeleton of a whale. Photo: Shutterstock

A robot greets visitors at the Futurium, in Berlin, Germany. Photo: AFP

A light sculpture in the teamLab “Borderless” exhibition, in Tokyo. Photo: Tammy Kwan

The Meow Wolf Convergence Station experience in Denver, Colorado, in the United States. Photo: Jess Bernstein

T-Park, in Tsang Tsui, Tuen Mun, is a state-of-the-art waste-to-energy treatment facility that people actually want to visit. Photo: Martin Chan

Luxury show flat interiors in Hong Kong blend realism with dream design

The ARTTA Concept-designed 1,000 sq ft show flat in Chinachem Group’s In One project in Ho Man Tin. Photo: Steven Ko

Straight lines and a contemporary Asian aesthetic in ARTTA Concept’s 600 sq ft flat. Photo: Steven Ko

The 1,000 sq ft flat is one of two designed by ARTTA Concept at In One, both of which sold within a month. Photo: Steven Ko

Bean Buro incorporated wellness features, such as air and water filtration, non-toxic materials and smart lighting, to align with the body’s circadian rhythm. Photo: courtesy Bean Buro

The Development Studio’s show flat, at 33 Kennedy Road, Mid-Levels, designed by Studio Ella. Photo: HDP Photography

Most people can’t imagine what is possible until they explore options with their designer, says Studio Ella founder and director Ella Bridgland. Photo: courtesy Studio Ella

Bean Buro designed a duplex with children in mind, at New World Development’s Mount Pavilia, Clear Water Bay. Photo: courtesy Bean Buro

According to Studio Ella founder and director Ella Bridgland, the trend of creating more personalised show flats is growing globally, even though in Hong Kong, “lots of developers are not willing to take a risk doing something different”. Photo: HDP Photography

PostMag

Culture

Design & Interiors

So devoted was Japanese designer Shinya Kobayashi to preserving his country’s craft traditions that he bought an entire mountain to ensure their survival


So devoted was Japanese designer Shinya Kobayashi to preserving his country’s craft traditions that he bought an entire mountain to ensure their survival.


Japan

Mujun Planet: one man’s quest to revive Japan’s artisanal legacy

.css-1c6uqr6{color:inherit;font-weight:inherit;font-size:inherit;font-family:inherit;line-height:inherit;overflow-wrap:break-word;}So devoted was Japanese designer Shinya Kobayashi to preserving his country’s craft traditions that he bought an entire mountain to ensure their survival

So devoted was Japanese designer Shinya Kobayashi to preserving his country’s craft traditions that he bought an entire mountain to ensure their survival