Gardening with Hokusai’s Chicken // Lessons from a Summer in Japan

I am quintessentially British: I rely heavily on the weather as a conversation starter. I am an aggressive pessimist and an excessive moaner (but will never act upon it to avoid ‘causing a fuss’). I consider having a pint at 5 am at the airport as perfectly normal behaviour. I can’t blame my friends for laughing, therefore, when I told them that I would be interning in Japan this summer.
‘They’re not going to understand you,’ was usually their first response, referencing my thick Mancunian accent. ‘I hope you like eating fish,’ perhaps the laziest of stereotypical comments. ‘All of their food is really healthy, you’ll lose a lot of weight’ was another. The latter was probably a reference to my ever-expanding gut rather than any insightful comment about Japan.
Although somewhat passing comments, they all addressed the same point: things would be very different. However, I would later realise this was a massive understatement.
To provide some context, I’d been internship hunting since January. Or, more accurately, I told everyone I was going to apply for internships in January and only genuinely writing applications towards the end of February. Realising I had spent six weeks not applying for internships, I went through a phase of what I call ‘knee-jerk applications’: if your organisation had a summer job, you were getting a copy of my CV.
One of those companies was Dentsu, to join their ‘Team-B’ and work on Project Ideation in Japan. ‘Japan’, I said, ‘yeah, alright then.’ Truth be told, I didn’t expect to be interning in the creative industry. Yet, one Skype Interview later (in which I was low-key mocked for wearing a tie), I found myself on my way to Japan.
Day One: I arrive at Dentsu’s massive head office, already complaining about the Japanese July humidity (at least I had something to talk about if the conversation went stale). I first met Nadya, who politely chuckled at my shirt and tie combination while she was wearing her comfortable New Balance. ‘It’s too hot for a shirt and tie,’ she laughed. I politely ‘haha-d.’ Great, not only am I unnecessarily overdressed, but I’m also swelteringly uncomfortable.
Nadya is one of those rare people who is annoyingly talented yet incredibly humble. A Russian-born student who studied in five different primary schools across the globe, becoming a prominent copywriter in Dentsu, before becoming a leading authority on innovative education and creativity. Of course, she’d never tell you this herself: you’d hear it in pockets from other colleagues. ‘A falcon doesn’t show its claws’ she would later state while explaining Japanese humility, seemingly unaware of how relevant the quote was to herself.
Then came Hidetoshi, a man who describes himself as suffering from Project Creation Syndrome. ‘You look younger in person than you did in your interview,’ he said (this was a statement, not a back-handed compliment). Like Nadya, Hidetoshi’s held numerous accolades: becoming Marti Guixe’s first Japanese ‘Ex-Designer’, and a creative producer for the APEC Conference (2010), IMF-World Bank Conference (2012), and Arita Revitalisation Project (2016) to name a few. His numerous out-of-work projects are symptomatic of his Project Creation Syndrome, from a school established on Samurai principles, to a fusion-food company which made onigiri from different countries’ rice.
However, it was Dentsu’s ‘Team-B’ which they spoke most highly about; the hotchpotch of creatives which I was about to be ushered into. ‘Team B’ can be best explained through the analogy of The Beatle’s famous single ‘Hello, Goodbye / I Am The Walrus’: it has an A-Side and a B-Side. The ‘A-Side’ (the ‘Hello, Goodbye’ side) of a person is their professional side; what they’re good at. The ‘B-Side’ of a person (the ‘I Am The Walrus’ side) of a person is their passionate, experimental side; what makes them unique. Your B-Side can be used to offer an alternative approach to creating new ideas and solutions. And so, members of Team-B bring insights from e-sports, festivals, cafés, peace advocacy, board games, rules, and djing (to name a few) into each of their projects.
Our task for the internship was simple: make a prototype for a new way of thinking based on your B-Side.
This sounded right up my street: I am passionate about loads of things. I love having conversations about music, I love debating educating models, and (unfortunately), I am that friend who talks extensively about politics after having a drink. Making a prototype about something I was passionate about would be easy! Within the first two weeks, I had a ready-made prototype for a new education model; I’d cracked the code straight away!
I was met with the following response:
‘Hm [long pause], yeah [long pause] it’s okay.’
‘Alright, fine. My prototype might need some refinement,’ I thought. ‘What can I improve on?’ It was at this point I would be given the most cryptic feedback I have ever received.
‘I think you should take your time, walk slowly, and enjoy the flowers.’ Hidetoshi stated, with an air of mysticism. He nodded, smiled, and strolled off to his next project. I, however, sank into my chair and asked myself what he meant (using more colourful language, however).
A week later, Hidetoshi came to the office, clasped his hands together, and stated: ‘Let’s go to the Hokusai Museum.’ Again, some context: I had noted in my interview that I was a fan of Hokusai’s work. Hidetoshi told me he would take me to the Hokusai Museum. I thought this was merely pleasant interview chatter. I guess not.
In a Hidetoshi-esque style, he would share with me his thoughts on Hokusai in little pockets dispersed throughout the day. To Hidetoshi, Hokusai is a mentor on creativity. He spoke passionately about Hokusai’s drawing books, which he advocated made the somewhat elitist hobby of art accessible to the masses. He told me how Hokusai started using the name ‘Gakyo-rojin Manji’, which translates to Old Man Mad About Art, before telling me this would become his moniker in later life, laughing loudly.

In the taxi back, he told me his favourite Hokusai story. Hokusai was invited to paint for Shōgun Ienari. He painted a blue stroke across a sheet of paper, before chasing a chicken across the page whose feet had been dipped in red paint. The piece, Hokusai explained, depicted red maple leaves floating on the Tatsuta River. The taxi fell silent for a moment.
‘Hokusai knew there was more than one way of doing things,’ he said.’ When you make your ideas, you want to get to the right answer straight away, and you miss the new ways of doing things. I want you to explore, take your time, and try out new ideas and perspectives. That is what I mean by enjoying the flowers; enjoy embracing new perspectives. That is the goal of Team-B.’
He then fell silent, returning to his emails. Yet, the whole concept of Team-B had clicked for me at that moment. Using your passion is powerful as it offers new insights, something that your professional side cannot tell you. What makes you unique is your most powerful asset.
Over the remaining two months, I embraced the power of uniqueness and declared my B-Side: ‘Negativity’. Rather than the typical ‘hm, okay,’ response, this was met with enthusiasm. Throughout my internship, I have been researching how embracing negativity and being wrong is beneficial for creativity, scientific experimentation, and mental health. These are, however, insights for another day.
As I stated at the start, most of my friends laughed at how I would survive in a country and culture so different from my own. Team-B, however, advocates that this difference and uniqueness is powerful.
Dentsu’s Team-B has indeed worked on multiple projects, extensive lists of their accolades and successes can be found with enough Google-searching. For me, however, the mission of Team-B, to actively promote, advocate, and nurture new perspectives for creating solutions is the most prominent.
Next time you have a problem that needs solving in your life, you could head straight to the right answer. In the same way, Hokusai could have a painted maple leaves himself.
Take your time. Walk slowly. Enjoy the flowers.
