Japanese Architect Reacts to my NOT TINY Studio

A Journey Through Creativity: Exploring a YouTube Studio with Architect Ayaka Okazaki

Author

Ark
April 09, 2025

Ayaka Okazaki, a freshly minted architect and designer, has spent years honing her craft. After stumbling upon her living in a tiny Tokyo apartment, I found myself whisked away on a whirlwind tour of Japan’s most eccentric living spaces. But one day, Ayaka flipped the script—she insisted on seeing my slightly over-the-top YouTube studio. Though it wasn’t quite finished, her enthusiasm was unrelenting, and she refused to take no for an answer.

“Good morning! Are you ready?” I asked, buzzing with excitement to see Ayaka’s reaction.

Stepping into the studio, Ayaka’s eyes lit up. The tatami flooring, which doubles as a shamisen stage, immediately caught her attention. “This is like a performance space!” she remarked. I explained how the setup works: “When we film shamisen videos, we remove the panels, and the entire area becomes super quiet—no echo.” She nodded, inspecting the clever storage spaces tucked beneath. “No cabinets, just hidden compartments—smart!”

The studio, housed in an older building, isn’t without its quirks. “It shakes a bit during earthquakes,” I admitted, showing off the handmade shelves I’d assembled with glue and screws. Ayaka didn’t seem fazed—she was too busy taking it all in.

Since her visit, quite a few things have evolved, so allow me a quick 10-second update: what was once a bare wall is now a full-on Pokémon card display. Arranging them to look random was a challenge—there aren’t that many colors of Pokémon cards, and yes, I ran out toward the bottom. We’ll just pretend that section doesn’t exist. There’s also a shiny new charging station, which Ayaka hadn’t seen yet.

“I’m smiling because I thought you’d either love this or hate it,” I told her during the tour. “I’m happy it’s the former.” Her grin confirmed it—she was charmed.

One standout feature is the authentic Tokyo Metro sign, alongside train handles and other relics from decommissioned trains. “When the modern line retired their old stock, they sold off these pieces, and I snagged some,” I explained. Ayaka ran her fingers over the sign, intrigued. “I cover them when they get dirty—easy reset,” I added.

The space has continued to evolve post-Ayaka. A fancy gold play button now gleams for the main channel, while the Tokyo Lens Explore channel boasts its own silver one. Tired of empty white space, I lined the walls edge-to-edge with vinyl records. The visitor table? It’s a chaotic masterpiece, featuring a stunning drawing by Emmy (you might remember her from our nighttime boating adventure)—hands down the best art on there so far.

Ayaka’s sharp architectural eye caught every detail. Pointing to some rare Sakamashiki drops, I noted, “They stopped making these in 2022—I bought the biggest stash I could find.” Her love for Studio Ghibli sparked when I showed her themed screens, but before we dove deeper, I led her outside. “I’ve got a hammock out here—it’s just folded up right now.”

Recalling our first meeting at her place, I said, “You told me you love sitting on the floor, staring out the window.” She laughed, “Exactly!” Unfortunately, construction noise marred the moment. “It’s loud today,” I apologized, then pointed to a neighboring building. “They put up scaffolding, then took it down without doing anything. Feels like a money shuffle—caught it all on camera.” Ayaka smirked, “That’s the second time I’ve smiled today.”

The studio’s openness was a big draw for me. “I chose this place for how big and airy it feels,” I told her, handing her the camera. “You be cameraman—check this out.” I slid open the shoji screens, revealing a minimalist sleeping space. “Perfect, right?” She agreed, filming the seamless design.

Next up: the workshop. “I wanted a garage vibe from back home, but it felt too dark,” I explained. “So, I painted the pegboard white, added neon for a punch of color, and retro gaming gear just took over.” Ayaka peeked into my toolboxes—screws in one, clamps in another—while right-wing nationalist trucks blared music outside. “What should I put in this empty box?” I asked. “It used to hold shimmy pins for Patreon meetups, but now it’s just coffee.” She chuckled, “Eat it!”

The entrance has transformed too. Once packed when owner Shimayama was here, it’s now sparse. “Ayaka said she loves being in the shop, even when it’s empty,” I recalled. Since her visit, I’ve rebuilt Shimayama’s shop—a favorite project I’ll link below. The shoji screens, which need to be reassembled in a specific order, remain a puzzle. “She’s threatened to punch holes in them,” I joked.

Even the small toilet got a “Wow!” from Ayaka. “Most of these cabinets? Just snacks,” I confessed. Then, spotting my N64, I asked, “Ever played Pokémon Stadium?” We dove into a quick game—she won, of course.

Ayaka’s new job as an architect loomed on the horizon. “Are you excited?” I asked. “What do you want to make?” Her eyes sparkled. “It’s amazing—finally doing it after all those years as a student.” From her tiny Tokyo apartment to this moment, her journey felt full-circle.

The original tour with Ayaka stretched over 45 minutes—her joy loose and uncontainable. Trimming it down was tough, but the full uncut version is up on Patreon for anyone who wants it (link below). Having her explore the studio was a blast. This space, born from gear cluttering my living room for online shamisen lessons with Kiki, has grown into something special.

Ayaka’s visit left an imprint—proof that creativity, whether in architecture or a quirky YouTube studio, thrives in unexpected places. What do you think? Drop your questions below—I’ll see you soon!

Help and support my work : paypal.me/arkjet

Please note that some of the links provided may be affiliate links. This means that if you click on the link and make a purchase, I may earn a small commission at no additional cost to you. This helps support my work and allows me to continue providing valuable content. I only recommend products or services I believe in and think will be helpful to you. Thank you for your support!