Pixelated Perception (2023) Pixelated Perception investigates modern ways of seeing through pixelated imagery, commenting on the nature of perception shaped by digital media. The series critically engages with how media influences personal and collective views.
Above: Pixelated Perception (2023) investigates modern ways of seeing through pixelated imagery, commenting on the nature of perception shaped by digital media. The series critically engages with how media influences personal and collective views.
Emi Kusano (emikusano.art) is a Tokyo-born multidisciplinary artist whose practice interweaves nostalgia, pop culture, and emerging technologies. Beginning as a teenage street photographer documenting Harajuku fashion—a body of work later exhibited by the Victoria and Albert Museum—Kusano has long examined how mass media informs both personal identity and collective memory. Her explorations expanded into music as the lead singer of Satellite Young, a retro-futurist band reimagining 1980s J-pop through a contemporary lens.
Today, Kusano is internationally recognized for her AI-based practice, with exhibitions spanning over 20 countries, including presentations at M+ Museum in Hong Kong, Saatchi Gallery in London, and the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art in Kanazawa. In 2025, her pioneering contribution to digital culture was acknowledged with her selection as a Young Global Leader by the World Economic Forum.
The Altar of Bonnō (2024) explores the intrinsic nature of human desire through generative AI. This series uses an AI model trained exclusively on the artist’s own face, creating distorted, haunting portraits that reflect the Buddhist concept of “Bonnō” (worldly desires).
In the following conversation with .ART, Kusano reflects on her trajectory from photography and music to AI, positioning the technology as both a tool and a collaborator. She considers the role of self-portraiture within her AI-generated works and the ways in which algorithmic systems reproduce cultural bias.
You originally worked in street photography before moving into new media art. How did that transition happen?
I think I’ve always been creating in one way or another. Both of my parents are artists—my father is a painter and fashion designer, and my mother, while mostly a stay-at-home mom, occasionally worked as an illustrator. So making things was natural for me from a very young age.
When I was in high school, I spent a year in the U.S. as an exchange student. I grew up in Tokyo, but I ended up in a small rural town in Utah. It was very peaceful, with beautiful nature and kind people, but at the same time very homogeneous, with everyone wearing the same clothes and hanging out at the same mall.
When I came back to Tokyo, the contrast was striking. Suddenly, Harajuku fashion felt like a wonderland to me. I hadn’t really appreciated it before, but now I was completely fascinated. I started working part-time as a photographer for a website called JapaneseStreets.com, which documented Tokyo street style. The site is no longer active, but back then it was an important resource for media and researchers. Some of my photos from that time even ended up in the collection of the Victoria & Albert Museum.
That was my first real step into the art world, although at the time I saw myself more as a journalist than an artist. Photography became my way of exploring—having a camera gave me access to fashion shows and cultural events. It opened so many doors for me as a teenager.
Neural Fad (2023) presents a fictitious history of fashion, imagined through AI-generated imagery. The collection portrays non-existent yet convincingly real trends, embodying society’s ever-changing perceptions of beauty and style.
I like how you describe these turning points—moments that build up and lead to the next phase. At what point did you start identifying as an artist and working across different media?
That shift came around 2011–2012, when I started a conceptual band called Satellite Young. I performed as a kind of 1980s Japanese idol, singing songs about technology and the digital age. I’ve always been fascinated by the aesthetics and music of the 1980s. Even though I never studied music formally or played instruments, I wrote lyrics, came up with melodies, and developed the overall concept. It was my first attempt to consciously create something beyond documentation.
I only began to fully see myself as a contemporary artist more recently, especially with the rise of blockchain and AI. Since 2023, I’ve been working actively as an AI artist. In just three years, I’ve exhibited in more than 20 countries, in galleries and museums around the world. That has been a transformative moment for me.
Technoanimism (2023) blends traditional animistic beliefs with contemporary technology, examining the blurred boundaries between nature and artificiality. The work reflects on how modern humanity reconciles spirituality with technological progress.
So AI not only became a new medium for you, but it also shifted your career and gave you more possibilities. How do you approach working with it?
For me, AI feels like a continuation of what I was already doing in photography and music. I’ve never been interested in mastering one specific craft—like programming or painting—but I love producing, directing, and creating worlds. AI fits this perfectly because it allows me to combine elements, adjust light, characters, moods, and create narratives.
I often insert myself into these works, just like I performed in my music videos. This really started when WWD Japan asked me to create their first AI-generated fashion magazine cover. I modeled my own face for it, and that opened up new ways of using myself as material—not as a person, but almost like an object or avatar. It’s not very different from being in front of the camera for a music video or commercial.
With AI, I can generate a kind of selfless version of myself, which I find fascinating.
That’s really interesting. Can you tell me about some of your recent projects?
In March, I had an exhibition in Paris where I presented a project called Office Ladies. I used my facial and body data to generate AI “assistants” or secretaries—alter egos of myself in retro-style office settings.
The idea came from imagining a personal AI agent, a kind of “mini-me” that could do my work for me. But when I tried to generate AI assistants, I noticed that the results always reflected gender stereotypes: women appeared in mini skirts as secretaries, while men appeared in suits. Even if you try prompts like “woman in a suit, man in an apron,” the images often flip back to stereotypes. It revealed how deeply human bias is embedded in AI systems. By recreating these stereotypical office ladies using my own image, I wanted to highlight that irony and question it.
Office Ladies (2025) explores gender roles, corporate culture, and the absurdity of modern office life through the lens of AI-generated visuals. The series challenges traditional narratives around female office workers, creating surreal yet relatable scenes.
You’ve also been active internationally, and I saw that you were named a Young Global Leader at the World Economic Forum, which took place in China. Could you tell me more about that?
The Young Global Leaders program is run by the World Economic Forum. Every year, they select people across different fields who are pioneering in their work. I was recognized as one of the first digital artists actively working with AI art, which was a great honor.
Many people are using AI nowadays, but not all of them create something original—they often just let it do everything. How do you see your relationship with AI? Is it a tool for you, or more of a collaborator?
I see it as both—a tool and a collaborator. The situation reminds me a lot of the early days of photography. At first, photography wasn’t considered art, just a way to record reality. People said, “Anyone can take a picture.” And now, of course, everyone really can—babies can take photos with smartphones. But what matters is how you use it: what you choose, what you frame, what you want to express.
It’s the same with AI.
Anyone can generate an image, but to create meaningful work, you have to push the tool, combine different methods, and make it your own.
I work with multiple AI systems, layering, editing, and experimenting. The unpredictability of the results is what excites me the most.
One last question: why did you decide to use a .ART domain name as your online address?
For me, choosing .ART was symbolic. It marked the moment I decided to fully commit to being an artist. It felt authentic and true to what I stand for. It’s not just a website address—it was a statement that I am about art, and that’s the path I’ve chosen for my life.
Learn more about Emi’s work: emikusano.art
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