circle conversations | half
Atsuko and Joe Keating are the two halves of the Kyoto-based creative studio, Half.
Joe has worked strategically with brands for many years, creating environments and interiors that tell stories through design. He also works as a photographer. Atsuko specialises in localising luxury brands, providing linguistic services tailored to the Japanese market to highlight the unique charms of each maison. Atsuko and Joe live with their daughter in Kyoto.
All images are by Joe Keating.
half.co.jp | @iikkyu
Japan has a unique and beautiful tradition of quieting down on New Year’s Eve, rather than hosting big parties with lots of noise and fireworks. Could you please share with us what happens on New Year’s Eve and the thinking behind it?
We just celebrated New Year’s Day in Kyoto. Every year, toward the end of December, all the houses on the street undergo a thorough cleaning. Families decorate their tidy homes with a shimenawa (a New Year’s festoon made of sacred straw) and prepare to welcome the new year in good spirits. New Year's Eve is said to be the day to welcome the Toshigami-sama (God of the New Year) and make preparations to worship him. In the past, the day was believed to begin in the evening, so New Year's Eve marked both a turning point and the start of the new year. People would stay up all night on New Year's Eve to welcome and worship the deity, reflect on the past year, and pray for happiness and a good harvest in the year to come.
Even today, many people visit temples at midnight to ring the bell. This tradition, called Joya no Kane, is an annual event in Japanese Buddhism where temple bells are struck 108 times on New Year's Eve. The act symbolises the removal of the 108 earthly desires that reside within humans, fostering a fresh start for the new year.
Shimenawa, a New Year festoon made of sacred straw. Atsuko is wearing a cashmere hand-knit sweater from an OYUNA past collection.
I am reading this on your website: “Half can be seen as a positive or a negative; half full or half empty, depending on your outlook. In Japan, someone of mixed origin is said to be Half. I've always felt that bringing together two cultures, allowing each to influence the other, means enjoying the best of both. Half is double.” I love this. I have two half-Mongolian boys myself and can deeply relate to this sentiment. Half is definitely double! And the cup is certainly half full. Could you expand on this idea further?
The concept of half often gives the impression of an object suddenly divided in two. However, we think of it as something formed along a more subtle or softer line. Instead of one thing being split, two halves are blended together to create a larger, unified existence. In Japanese, there is a word toddlers use, han bun ko, meaning “half and half”, which expresses this idea beautifully. For example, when a child tears off a piece of bread to share with someone, the exactness of the division does not matter; what matters is the will to share.
How do you handle the combination of negative and positive in the definition of the word half?
Sometimes, we find that the negative impression of the word is harder to overcome than we had imagined. It is likely one of those words whose meaning shifts depending on the culture, but our occasional tension with it is perhaps part of its charm. I think the best approach is to create our own combination of cultural elements and discover our own version of half—without trying too hard to define it absolutely.
Shoyu Honten, Shimmachi-dori, Kyoto. Cashmere sweater, jacket and shawl from OYUNA past collections.
Do you combine the subjective and objective in certain proportions when attempting to unite the two cultures?
That’s a great question. When introducing foreign brands to the Japanese market, it is extremely important to consider the balance between the two cultures. Do we find a sense of closeness in commonalities, or are we fascinated by the differences? It’s also about balancing the subjective and objective, though objectivity naturally plays a significant role in localisation. To me, the most crucial aspect is respecting both cultures, and I am constantly searching for ways to express the unique charm and essence of a brand through a sophisticated approach.
In design, there must be a balance between the objective and the subjective. Solving problems alone is not design—the soul and creative instinct are critical ingredients. Many of our personal photography projects give us the artistic license to explore on a more subjective level, allowing the balance to become intuitive rather than consciously defined or formulaic.
Similarly, in the design of our house, we didn’t deliberately plan to incorporate specific Japanese or British elements. Instead, we created an instinctive blend of both cultures.
Crashing Waves at Zuiho-in Kyoto. Atsuko & Joe’s home in Kyoto.
Kyoto is one of my top three favourite places in the world. What does Kyoto mean to you, and how did you choose to settle there and establish your studio?
The first and simplest reason is that we truly love Kyoto. There are countless attractive cities in Japan, but Kyoto stands out with its exceptionally strong individuality. The pride people take in their city, their respect for its history, and its undeniably unique culture make it truly special. The stimulation we get from this city is immeasurable. Its flat terrain is also appealing, as we cycle everywhere!
6am at Nanzenji, Kyoto.
Joe, how do you achieve a balance between the inspirations of 2D photography and 3D interior design, and how do you translate one into the other?
Although photography and design have obvious and significant differences, expressing a considered ambience is something they both share. Composing the elements of a photograph can be quite similar to curating the forms, materials, and textures of interior space—both have the power to tell a story.
Atsuko, do you start a project as a localisation specialist by going there in person? Please give us an example.
The first project started through a friend, and from there, I’ve been very fortunate to be approached by wonderful brands, which has led me to where I am today. I specialise in luxury brands and have worked with incredible fashion houses such as Louis Vuitton and Café du Cycliste. Some of my clients have been with me for nearly 10 years, and I believe that the longer the relationship, the greater the potential for evolution.
Monks delivering blessings, Yamatooji-dori, Kyoto
When visiting a new place for the first time, what is the first thing that always catches your attention, Atsuko?
People and atmosphere. I can learn a lot from watching people come and go in the countries and cities I visit. Of course, this impression permeates the mind along with the architecture and cityscape, but the personality of a city is inseparable from the personality of its people.
Atsuko, you helped launch the French brand Cafe Du Cycliste in the Japanese market. What were the challenges in the process of launching the French brand in Japan, and what were the rewards?
Café du Cycliste is characterised by innovative designs that overturn conventional concepts. They are also proactive in sustainable activities and always take an approach that is ahead of the times. The biggest challenge was celebrating their unique French-ness in a way that appeals to the Japanese market. They are also full of subtle humour, which can sometimes be a struggle to express in Japanese, but there is nothing more satisfying than being able to tell a great story.
Atsuko bundled up in a cashmere throw from an OYUNA past collection.
Joe, did you ever feel like switching photography to text language? With Atsuko’s help, for example?
I have self-published several photo books that include occasional text in two languages, with Atsuko translating my English copy. I try to express my photographs in a relatively abstract, poetic context, and text can play a supporting role in this. I actually also love to write.
Atsuko, you worked in our team in London for 7 years, and we dearly miss you. Please share your memories with us—it would be good for me to step back in time too.
I still vividly remember the first time I visited the OYUNA atelier in London. The calm and stylish space was filled with a quiet yet lively energy. From a single cashmere thread to the delivery of the final product, everything was handled with perfect teamwork, and the collaborative environment was truly stimulating.
I have so many wonderful memories, but one of the most memorable was the lunchtime we shared almost every day. At times, team members came from as many as seven or eight different countries, and we prepared lunches inspired by each culture. I have never had lunch breaks that expanded my culinary knowledge so much!
Knowing you, Atsuko, you probably have items from our past collections still in perfect condition. How do you take care of them?
Cashmere sweater, jacket and shawl from OYUNA past collections.
I love taking care of my clothes as much as I love wearing them. You can really appreciate the details when you take care of textiles. OYUNA cashmere items are easy to care for, as they are relatively resistant to pilling. With occasional care, you can preserve their beautiful and delicate texture. I recommend removing pilling by gently stroking the surface with a fabric brush rather than using scissors or a powerful electric lint remover.
Atsuko, as a mother, do you have anything that you want to pass on or say to your daughter?
No two days are alike. No matter how hard or complicated things seem, there is always a chance to change.
Joe, as a father, what one mistake would you advise your daughter to avoid making in her life?
I’d like her to avoid dismissing things though thinking something is “impossible” without trying. Living creatively means learning through making a series of mistakes without fear.
To finish off, I have a few simple questions. You can respond with a word or a couple of words..
Blue?
Aizome (indigo dyeing).
Strength?
Love.
Softness?
My daughter’s cheek, hugs.
Beauty?
Confidence.
Timeless?
Life.
Breezy street layers, Aburanokoji-dori, Kyoto.