Keita Motooka’s Sculptures in Distorted Papier-Mâché Open a Doorway to the Unreal

A giant crab claw emerging from the floor. A monochrome boat suspended mid-air in a mesh of wire. A potted plant twisted into an unnatural pose. At first glance, Keita Motooka’s sculptures feel like uncanny apparitions. Shown at the Artists’ Fair Kyoto in February, these striking pieces earned him the Grand Prix in the competition spotlighting emerging talent. But beyond their visual singularity, one detail stands out: they are made entirely from paper.

Motooka calls his method yūkyoku hariko—literally, ‘distorted papier-mâché’. The process, which he developed himself, involves impregnating dyed paper with a vinyl acetate-based resin before applying it to a mould. As the resin dries, the paper hardens and holds its shape. Unlike traditional papier-mâché, colour is not painted on after the fact; instead, the tinted paper is the very substance of the sculpture. Motooka layers these fragments of colour as a painter might lay down brushstrokes.

He began exploring this process during the pandemic, when access to his university studio was restricted and he needed a medium he could use at home.

‘I tried other materials, but paper was easy to find at the hardware store, and it made no noise while I worked. I felt free to create without limits. Still, it was only after classes resumed that I really started using yūkyoku hariko in my work. Being able to reconnect with others made me want to make a paper sculpture of a friend. That’s when I began to question the material itself. I started deconstructing the structure, removing the internal framework and leaving only the shell. The form began to warp and twist on its own. It was unexpected—and thrilling. There was something about it that felt like a glimpse into the unreal.’

His first piece using this technique depicted a human figure and coiled fern shoots (warabi and zenmai). Before sculpting, Motooka had drawn the imagined landscape in which these elements appeared, then brought it into three dimensions. The process harks back to his childhood. A former baseball player, he would often drift into daydreams during practice, inventing scenes in his mind. That imaginative impulse remains alive in his work today—so much so that he has recently begun painting landscapes directly onto his sculptures.

Several such pieces now populate his studio. When examined closely, they produce a subtle but uncanny tension. One, mounted on a wall, depicts a scene around a table—not just the objects themselves, but the shadows they cast, all constructed with the same rigour one might find in a painting. The viewer hesitates: is this image or volume? It is in this ambiguity—the fusion of painterly perspective and sculptural form—that a quiet strangeness takes hold.

When asked what currently interests him, Motooka replied that it is the act of ‘sticking’—a gesture that also plays a part in his own creative process.

‘Take the crucifixion of Christ—that too is a kind of nailing-down or sticking-in-place. Or consider hame-goroshi, a type of fixed window or fixture that is sealed shut so it cannot open. Techniques like these have long existed in sculpture and architecture. What they share, I think, is a way of reinforcing the presence of an object. Another thing I find fascinating is sticker characters—you know, the ones that depict a character’s iconic pose, which can then be pasted onto all sorts of surfaces. Once they’re placed, they stand out beyond their original context—they assert their presence, in a sense. So delving into this act of sticking things onto surfaces might also help clarify what gives an object presence in sculpture—and how it relates to its background.’

When asked where these reflections might lead him, Motooka—a young sculptor in search of new landscapes—smiles and replies, ‘Maybe it’ll take me toward monumental formats… or maybe somewhere entirely different. I’ll find out as I go.’

PERSONAL QUESTIONS

What music are you listening to these days?
My tastes are pretty eclectic—The Beatles, Avishai Cohen, KAN, or the band Tama and their song ‘Sayonara Jinrui’. I love wandering around record stores and listening to my finds while I work.

A daily ritual?
I draw every day. And recently I’ve started jogging to improve my fitness—it’s been two months, and so far, I’m keeping it up!

Something you’re afraid of?
Stickers, adhesive tape, band-aids. It’s ironic, considering my work, but I have a real phobia of stickers. My brother’s desk was covered in them when we were kids, and I found it terrifying. Even now, I sometimes get allergic reactions just from looking at them (laughs).

Something you’d like to study again?
Sketching. I feel the need to return to the basics. Also, the history of gardens—I studied it at university. Concepts like shakkei (borrowed scenery) in Japanese gardens feel very close to what I’m trying to express in my work.