INC-3rd Term Secretariat Interview #3
FIG.1
I’m Kakuda, an ASIBA student supporter. In this interview, we spoke with Yuta Nihei, ASIBA’s Representative Director—the backbone of the General Incorporated Association ASIBA who leads the organization from the front. We delve deeply into the meaning behind the term “creative entrepreneur” and his unique perspective on leadership.
── It’s been about two years since ASIBA was established as a general incorporated association. When comparing its early days to now, what aspect do you feel most confidently represents ASIBA’s growth?
Nibei: I feel that ASIBA’s capabilities have truly expanded. This is thanks to the rich resources and network that have accumulated on the ASIBA platform. I don’t think I could have achieved this on my own as an individual.For example, our relationships with large corporations and local governments began with small opportunities and were built up gradually through steady achievements. A virtuous cycle—where success on the first project leads to requests like, “Please handle the next one too,” or “Let’s continue working together next fiscal year”—has only truly taken shape now, two years later. The projects we’re working on now are things I couldn’t have imagined two years ago.
── On the flip side, what did you envision when you started ASIBA?
Nibei: It all started with eight or nine individual projects, and the idea was to grow them together. For example, even when securing corporate sponsorships, when we were working independently, we’d receive sponsorship fees on a project-by-project basis. But I thought that by coming together and strengthening ourselves as a platform, we could accomplish more and ensure greater sustainability.In that sense, back then we were just an incubation program, but now we have a design studio, workshops, partnerships with local governments, and we’re even developing bases in vacant buildings. I feel like we’ve become a multi-layered platform.
FIG.2
— Is this something you’re doing because you actively chose to, or is it a situation where various factors have aligned, allowing you to do it for some reason right now? Which is it?
Nibei: I actually think that’s exactly what I call the “back-and-forth between questioning and practice.” For example, with the incubation program, my initial, simple hypothesis was that if people gathered and taught one another, the project might grow.When we actually tried it, it turned out—as you’d expect—that we needed partners to financially support the incubation program, or in some cases, rather than money, we needed space, which meant partnering with local governments, developers, and general contractors. We ended up needing all sorts of things we hadn’t initially imagined.As for our relationships with partners, it started out as the “Shimizu Corporation Award”—essentially an award program. We’d modeled the incubation program’s methodology after other companies and organizations, and initially thought that creating a corporate award would make it easier to secure funding. But after running it once, we realized we could build even better relationships.With these kinds of changes and improvements, the more we do, the more we see, and we change as well—and the project itself gets refined in a better direction.
── What would be your next hypothesis?
Nibei: There are many hypotheses, but the biggest one itself hasn’t changed. It’s the hypothesis of whether “Creative Entrepreneurs” can actually succeed. When we first started, the theme of “architecture students” was a major focus.Our tagline was something like, “Architecture students’ visions will change society.” But we realized that the image we had in mind when we said “architecture students” wasn’t actually limited to students enrolled in architecture programs. Back then, we all shared a common vision of our target student—and I think that vision was really people just like us.We were referring to people who harbored some kind of doubt or sense of dissonance toward society—even if it was small—such as wondering, “Is what I’m doing right?” or “Wouldn’t it be better if I did it this way?”—and who also had a desire to connect those feelings to society. We thought people who possessed both of these qualities were “architecture students,” but when we took a closer look, we found all kinds of people.Of course, there are people like that among architecture students, but there are also plenty of people doing similar things outside the architecture department. Now, we’ve given these people a new name: “Creative Entrepreneurs” (Clean).
Also, back then I used the word “vision” quite often, but I don’t use it much these days. The reason is that I believe a vision detached from one’s own sensibilities and questions is meaningless. I’m sure there are pros and cons to this view, but I think pretty much anyone can create a vision of the future—and frankly, I think AI can do it far better.It’s all about running simulations to gain insights into the future and then deciding, “This is how the future should change.” I think what humans can do is, rather than that, give shape to something within ourselves—or harbor that incredibly selfish desire to bring it into being, even if it isn’t “correct.”There’s a quote by Gen Hoshino that he shared on the radio: “Society decides what is right; you decide what is beautiful.” I really love that. I don’t think it’s that hard to come up with a sound argument.It’s easy to say things like, “Society should be like this,” or “This is a social issue, so we have to solve it.” But I wonder if our value as human beings lies not in “shoulds” or “correctness,” but rather in things like, “I want my life to be like this,” or in our own personal sense of aesthetics.
There’s a book by Keikaku Ito called *Harmony*. In its world, even speaking ill of others is forbidden, and falling ill is forbidden. It’s an ultra-clean society—very safe, highly controlled, with no room for evil to take root—but people end up forgetting—or are made to forget—what “evil” even is in the first place.I don’t think *Harmony* is science fiction; I see it as raw, unvarnished realism. In a society that’s becoming increasingly homogenized, I believe creators and entrepreneurs are the ones who can take a different path—and I think a society where such people can’t survive is a very poor one. I certainly don’t want to end up in a future like the world depicted in *Harmony*.
— Thank you so much for sharing all of this. With that in mind, if you were to describe “ASIBA-ism” in a single phrase, what would it be?
Nibei: For me, “ASIBA-ism” is “N=1.” When you’re starting a startup, you’re often told to target a large market. There’s a term called “market-in,” which means jumping into a field that’s expected to grow in the future. That’s why most pitch decks appeal by saying things like, “In a market worth X trillion yen, we expect to generate this much revenue.”In other words, the bigger the scale—whether it’s N = 10,000 or 100,000—the better it’s considered to be. But what I’ve come to realize is that when it comes to those “low-hanging fruit” ideas that everyone says, “That’s great,” I often find myself not really that passionate about them.
For example, if you ask architecture students to design a library or art museum, they’ll come up with something that looks polished and has a noble purpose. But when you ask them, “Do you really want to start studying there today?” or “Do you really want to spend time there?” they get stumped. That’s why my go-to question during ASIBA’s incubation program is, “Is this a product you’d actually want to use yourself?” Everyone comes up with really cool ideas and creates beautiful things—and sure, they’re making products that 10,000 people might want—but I want them to make it for themselves.I think it’s far more important to create something—even if it might only resonate with a single person, “yourself”—rather than something made for “someone” out there, who might number in the tens of thousands.
What’s more, I actually think that those kinds of things might have a stronger impact on society. When you create something you genuinely want, I believe there are probably about ten other people out there who want it too. There are plenty of things that are interesting as a vision or in theory, but I’ve always wondered: if you aren’t using it yourself, who’s going to make it?That’s why I want people to turn their attention to the things inside themselves—even if no one else might be interested in them. I think we should start with things that resonate with those small, personal questions. In the sense of moving back and forth between questioning and action, I believe this is also what it means to start from N=1. Of course, it’s also important to gradually connect the N=1 projects born this way to society.
I believe that keeping both wheels turning—starting from N=1 and bringing those ideas to society—is at the core of ASIBA’s philosophy. Precisely because there are so many people who focus on only one of these aspects, I think it would be fascinating to have someone who can keep both wheels turning.
— Is there anyone you know, Mr. Nihei, who you’d say is successfully keeping both wheels turning?
Nibei: Me, for one.
FIG.3
── I see (wry smile)
Nibei: In this incubation program, we’ve recruited a lot of people who are starting from N=1. In fact, the current program is designed around the idea of starting from N=1 and then moving on to the step of connecting it to society. In that sense, there aren’t many people who are successfully keeping both wheels turning yet. I suppose that’s the responsibility of the incubation team. I believe it’s our job to guide them all the way to that connection.
── Artists have been included in the incubation program starting this time, but I can’t quite picture what it would look like for artists to connect with society. What are your thoughts on that?
Nibei Baseline: Well, this really depends on the individual, doesn’t it? Not everyone wants to be in that position at all. If there happen to be people in the same phase as me, I’d like to help them, and I think it would be interesting if the future saw such people thriving. I don’t think every artist should be that way, nor do I think they can all be.Still, one thing I often think about artists is that I hope they don’t turn a blind eye to the very structure they’re standing on. They’re very good at detaching themselves—they “purely” confine their work within a canvas or a frame, or dive into a white cube and drop their creations there.But—and this is a strange example—if there’s a white cube, for instance, I want them to think about the property taxes the owner pays every year, what kind of lives the people who visit it lead, and the fundamental structure that makes art possible—or that makes the very act of asking those questions possible.
I believe that the very act of creating a work of art is an act that creates tremendous distortion, because it is a truly beautiful act—one in which, among the countless acts of production, one deliberately chooses to do what is, in a sense, the most unproductive thing. I think that is an act of resistance against the general flow of society.It’s about distorting and twisting the prevailing pressure to “produce”—as if to say, “No, that’s not quite right.” I believe there’s always a fruit to be harvested at the end of that struggle, and it embodies a beauty that can only emerge after twisting and bending various things out of shape.The underlying structures—such as art education or the systems of competitions and evaluations within the art world—form the foundation that supports my creative practice. But the very foundations—whether they be money, people, or space, or even the more conceptual framework of what I personally consider beautiful—are surely constructed in a somewhat distorted way.Often, these systems incorporate quite intense mechanisms—such as evaluation systems—and while it’s fine to create within them, I’d like you to take a bird’s-eye view of the system as a whole. Only then can you begin to wonder whether it’s possible to change the system itself, or even to create the system itself as a work of art.
Architecture is a good example to illustrate this. For instance, many of the cool projects that might be featured in *Shin Kenchiku* are often built as a wealthy person’s 20th vacation home. Setting that aside, the question of whether we can actually create truly good work is a very simple one.That’s the only way we can create right now. That’s why ASIBA intends to be at the center of a movement to change this entire stage and system.
FIG.4
— I understand. Thank you. Next, as the representative of ASIBA, do you have any thoughts on leadership?
Nibei: I’m doing my best to be the kind of “Clearan” I most want to nurture within ASIBA. I believe that continuing to be a player is, ultimately, the most important quality for a community manager. At the very least, in a community like ASIBA, I don’t think sustaining the community itself should become the goal.I want to be the kind of person who’s at the center of the community—someone who’s more of a player than anyone else and embodies that spirit more than anyone else—someone who inspires others to think, “Since that person is running, I want to run with them too.”
── So that’s your mindset. Is there anything specific you do to put that into practice?
Nibei: It’s not just me, but I think it’s important for almost everyone to balance running their own projects with managing ASIBA. Juggling the roles of creator and producer is incredibly difficult, but in ASIBA, I believe that the moment you give up being a player yourself, you lose credibility.If you just connect people without any sense of purpose, people will start asking, “Where is ASIBA’s own identity or sense of purpose?” It all started from the idea that there should be a place where people—who take ownership, explore challenges, and possess that unique “N=1” quality—can shine even brighter. So I believe that maintaining that sense of ownership is the very attitude we must embody as a community and an organization.
── You created this space yourself because you couldn’t find a place where you could truly shine, right? What kind of experiences led you to that?
Nibei: I guess it was when a paper I wrote was dismissed with just, “That’s interesting, isn’t it?” I was exposed to the historical scholarship of Professor Kato, a professor of architectural history at the University of Tokyo, and found it so beautiful it moved me to the core. It was incredibly frustrating that, despite possessing such strong theories and ideas, he couldn’t assert them as something tangible within the constraints of the tools at his disposal and the existing system.I do think what I write is interesting, but it ends up being just that—interesting. The frustration I felt at that moment is undoubtedly my formative experience.
── I heard you met Mr. Morihara at a research group on demolition. How did that lead to the founding of ASIBA?
While concepts like Nihei’s “deconstruction” and “deconstructionism” are highly theoretical, they’re also deeply social issues—and we both shared the conviction that we wouldn’t understand anything unless we went out into the world.Unless we actually implement ideas, build startups, and change social systems—unless we reach that level—it ultimately ends up being just the kind of theoretical construction that history is so good at. I didn’t want that, either. We decided to launch ASIBA, and within a month or two of meeting, we kicked off the first cohort of our incubation program.
FIG.5
— Where did the name ASIBA (Architecture Studio for Impact-Based Action) come from?
Nibei: I think I only had about two days from the moment I started thinking about the deadline for deciding on a name. In the end, I settled on it based on a play on words I came up with. The latter part, “Impact-Based Action,” was inspired by the words of Professor Umada, a professor of entrepreneurship at the University of Tokyo whom I was looking up to at the time.
— I think it’s a great name. This is just my personal opinion, but I think you’re very good at putting your thoughts into words—where do you think you developed that skill?
Nibei: I’ve always been incredibly good at adapting to the other person. For better or worse, I’m confident that my ability to pick up on what the other person wants is about five times stronger than most people’s. I just instinctively know, “This person probably wants this,” or “These are the words they need right now.”I think having this ability was a real asset in sales, but if I keep doing it, my own product ends up being something designed solely for the other person. That’s not “N=1,” is it? Precisely because I don’t want to be misunderstood on that point, I’m extremely careful about how I communicate. Perhaps people say I’m good at communicating because I intuitively sense what the other person wants and adapt my words to match it.
I think the origin of this intuition lies in my trip to the U.S. when I was in middle school. Back then, I couldn’t speak English, so I had to survive on my own in that environment. I believe that’s when I developed the ability to keenly pick up on people’s nonverbal cues—their gestures, feelings, and facial expressions.
── Compared to the first and second cohorts, what are the defining characteristics of the third cohort?
There are quite a few projects where it’s hard to see the connection to society. That’s not just because we selected people who were more “N=1” types, but also because we focused on building the UX in the first half to avoid having them focus too much on social impact. Compared to the second cohort, where many people were very eager to turn their ideas into businesses, I get the impression that the third cohort has a lot of people with incredibly original perspectives and approaches.
── Thank you very much! Finally, could you share a “A-Shi-Ba” acrostic poem?
Nibei: With your own unique love, dive into society and head toward a super fun tomorrow!
FIG.6
Credit
Related Works
Related Texts
Creators Forge a Space of Solidarity to Challenge the World Together
STATEMENT
2026.07.31.
