Built Slowly: Finding Flow in Nakazakicho

There is something about getting completely absorbed in something you're doing, where you lose track of time and everything around you becomes secondary. This is the feeling of being in a flow state, getting absorbed in a creative process and allowing yourself to become completely focused on what is in front of you.

We know that feeling well through screen printing. There is a rhythm to pulling the squeegee, checking the print, making an adjustment and doing it again. You can become absorbed in the repetition without necessarily thinking about anything beyond the print in front of you.

We weren't thinking about any of this particularly when we arrived in Osaka. But walking through one of the city's older neighbourhoods, we started to notice how much of the same feeling seemed to exist in the places around us.

Nakazakicho

We turned left out of Umeda station and walked for around 10 minutes before the streets began to change from huge buildings to narrow streets, small wooden houses and quieter corners.

It felt like we'd stepped into a different side of Osaka.

Nakazakicho is one of the only areas in Osaka not to be destroyed by the war. Some of the old buildings are now coffee shops, galleries, studios and small businesses, giving the neighbourhood a character that feels very different from the modern city surrounding it.

You could easily spend a day investigating each nook of the neighbourhood. There was no particular rush to get anywhere. Instead, it was the kind of place where you could wander down a small street, notice something interesting and decide to follow it.

Perhaps that was the first connection to the idea of flow.

Coffee, Art and the Rhythm of the Neighbourhood

Coffee seemed to be a big part of the rhythm of the neighbourhood.

Small cafés were tucked into old buildings, often with very individual interiors and personalities. There was a strong crossover between coffee, art, design, vintage clothing and independent businesses.

Rather than the polished, uniform feeling you can sometimes get from modern coffee chains, these places felt personal. They felt like someone had taken an old space and made it their own.

We liked the idea that a café could also be a creative space. Somewhere to sit, work, draw, talk or simply spend an hour doing nothing.

This is probably where the connection to flow becomes most obvious: coffee, music, creativity and time slowing down.

There was something about these spaces that made you want to stay. Not because there was anything particularly spectacular happening, but because they allowed you to slow down and become absorbed in whatever you were doing.

The Things People Make

The same feeling came through in the smaller shops.

There were places selling ceramics, clothing, stationery, furniture, prints and other objects with a clear sense of the person behind them.

There is an appreciation for the process and story behind an object, not just the finished product.

That resonated with us because we screen print everything by hand.

We don't necessarily want everything to look machine-perfect. There is something about seeing the process in an object - the small imperfections, the marks and the evidence that somebody has physically made it that gives it character.

That's one of the reasons we enjoy screen printing so much. It is repetitive, but never completely predictable. You make something, look at it, learn from it and then make another one.

The Print Shop

A few months ago, we released a T-shirt called The Print Shop.

At the time, it was simply a design that we wanted to make. But walking around Nakazakicho, we started to think about it differently.

We began imagining the kind of small print shop that could exist somewhere amongst those streets.

Not based on an actual shop, but as a fictional meeting point between Osaka's creative scene and our own print studio in Sheffield.

A place where posters, packaging, clothing and artwork might be produced by hand. A small neighbourhood business where the work being made is part of the character of the place.

The visual style of The Print Shop has that slightly nostalgic and imperfect feeling — something that could belong to a small neighbourhood business rather than a huge commercial brand.

Seeing Nakazakicho gave that idea another context.

It made us think about why we are drawn to these kinds of places in the first place. The old buildings, the independent businesses, the handmade objects and the people creating things in their own way all have a sense of personality.

And perhaps that's what we were trying to capture with the design without fully realising it.

The Process

There's also something about travelling that makes you look at your own work differently.

When you're surrounded by the same places and routines, it's easy to stop noticing them. Getting somewhere completely different gives you the chance to step outside of that routine and see familiar ideas from another perspective.

In Nakazakicho, we kept noticing the same things we value in our own work: handmade objects, independent businesses, old things being given new purposes and people creating something because they wanted to create it.

It reminded us that creativity doesn't always have to mean making something completely new.

Sometimes it's about taking something that already exists and finding a new way to use it.

Kaizen

This is where another idea comes into it: Kaizen.

Kaizen can be understood simply as the idea of continuous improvement "getting better through small, consistent changes rather than trying to transform everything at once".

You make something, notice what could be better, adjust it and try again.

That's particularly relevant to screen printing and building a brand. We're still figuring things out, and every print, collection, event and mistake teaches us something.

Sometimes you make a print and it's exactly what you imagined. Sometimes it isn't. Sometimes a design changes several times before it feels right. The important part is continuing to make and improve.

The process isn't about getting everything perfect the first time.

It's about paying attention.

Built Slowly

Nakazakicho itself feels like an example of this.

Old buildings haven't necessarily been replaced; they've been adapted and given new purposes. Something that was already there has been allowed to continue, change and become something else.

That's something we find inspiring as a small independent brand.

We aren't interested in becoming a huge clothing company. We'd rather build something with a personality, where people can see the process, see the people behind it and feel a part of the journey.

Built slowly isn't about being anti-progress.

It's about allowing things to develop naturally.

Maybe that's why the neighbourhood stayed with us. It wasn't the newest or biggest part of Osaka, but it had something that couldn't simply be designed or manufactured overnight. Its character had come from years of people making use of the spaces around them and adding something of their own.

The same can be true of making things.

A T-shirt starts with an idea. A screen is made. Ink is pulled across it. The print is checked. Something is changed. Then you do it again. Slowly, those small things start to become something bigger.

The trip reminded us that some of the most interesting places aren't necessarily the newest or biggest, they're the ones that have had time to develop their own character.

And perhaps that's how we want to build Sabi & Soul too.

Not all at once. Just slowly, thoughtfully, and one print at a time.