INTERVIEW: Datsuijo

In Yanaka, Datsuijo has created a space for bearing it all

There’s a heavy load to carry when it comes to staying warm—a heavy load to carry to stay comfortable. The cold winds of Tokyo winters can chisel away at the warmth of exposed faces, but everything below tends to be bundled up with layers upon layers. Heat tech under cotton, under cashmere, under worsted wool—the uniform that is the wearable blanket of Tokyo’s pedestrians during the colder months. However, the beloved pastime of a bath at the local sento becomes a ritual for staying warm as well. 

At the sento, however, there is a separate, mandatory ritual that tends to undo all the effort made for covering up. Before entering the warm waters of the baths, there is the datsuijio—the dressing room between the front lobby and the baths, and in Japanese, its kanji (脱衣所) literally translates to “the place for removing clothes.” It’s within the datsuijo where there is a liberating irony—one in which we must remove these meticulous layers for further appeasement, and while there is a brief sense of discomfort, it is a small and consensual trial to overcome before soaking in the baths.

Datsuijo—a place in-between

Beyond protection against the actual chill of winter, there are layers we apply to our person that aren’t as easily seen or as easily removed. The world as it stands now is as interconnected and aware as it ever has been, yet what we actually present to the people around us is, to a point, meticulously put together, often to the point of strain. Not just in appearance, but in identity, the judgment or oppressiveness of others can be just as cold as any frigid January night, and naturally, there are things we wear to protect ourselves. 

But while we can choose what we put on to present idealistic versions of ourselves for others to accept, we can easily end up smothering everything underneath. It was for the purpose of creating a quality space for these layers to be removed that the art collective known as Datsuijo was founded, intended to be the space between the public sphere and the bare-all yumuro. 

Currently consisting of five core members coming from different countries and backgrounds, the collective is largely centered out of a gallery located in the traditional Yanaka neighborhood of Tokyo. This gallery was formerly a modest, local home that has since been repurposed into a space where all are welcome to strip away the other kinds of heavy layers— where the collective proclaims to be “a place to be naked.” Members Cleo Verstrepen (they/them) and Serhat Orta (he/him) have provided Thea with an exclusive interview to provide insight on Datsuijo as an organization and their movement forward.

A diverse collective for diverse subjects

The Datsuijo art collective was initially established in 2022. In Verstrepen’s words, “the collective came from the space,” as the house was previously occupied by another art collective known as Chim Pom. Following their departure, the building was at risk of being torn down. Rika Nakashima, a student at the nearby Tokyo University of the Arts originally hailing from Aichi Prefecture, took the opportunity to rent out the space and transformed it into a new exhibition venue, involving her friends and peers at the university. 

The name was originally a play on another nearby gallery space called SCAI Bathhouse. This new location, being a contemporary in the Yanaka neighborhood, would take on the name Datsuijo, and from it, a number of other artists would come to identify with it. 

The current five core members are as follows:

• Rika Nakashima from Japan

• Cleo Verstrepen from France

• Serhat Orta from Turkey

• Vivi Zhu from China

• And Matthew Lawson Garrett from the United States

Along with coming from all over the world, each member provides different contributions aligning with their respective specialties and mediums, with visual artists, filmmakers, curators, and art researchers making up the roster. Their decision-making process is non-hierarchical and inclusive, with pitched projects discussed to assure they align with the ideological structure of the group. “There’s not a written criteria for what we feature,” says Orta when asked about the collective’s curation process. “There is nothing that says we only allow for these kinds of works about this kind of thing.”

It is this core multiculturalism, varying set of skill sets, and open-mindedness that allows for Datsuijo to occupy the niche they have carved out. Platforming works and projects from a diverse set of origins; there are many subjects to present via many mediums, all of which use the intimate space of the Datsuijo studio as a canvas.

The relatively small size of the Datsuijo gallery in Yanaka is one of its core charms. The members emphasize how the more confined and homely space contributes to the personal interaction. Tatami mats and wood accents are warm and inviting, and while within the gallery, the displayed exhibition takes center stage; it’s near impossible to be there without interacting with fellow observers or exhibit hosts. “It’s super intimate, so your relationship with people is different compared to other galleries. You are in a home-like context,” says Orta. This is what makes Datsuijo special. What is art and the meaning behind it if not for discussion? What is the point of consuming art in a public space if not for human interaction? The collective has meticulously transformed the space into one that fosters chance meetings, in which one will need to strip down whatever hesitancies they have in order to fully engage with what is presented. “Datsuijo is an art space,” says Verstrepen, “but it’s also a social space. What we want is somewhere where we can socialize unlike other places… a kind of place where we can meet each other in different ways.”

Yanaka as a stage for the non-mainstream

Datsuijo promotes elements of cultures that may be considered less well-known. Last year in 2024, via a collaboration exhibit with fellow Tokyo art collective (O)kamemochi, the Yanaka space was home to an exhibition dubbed “Is my heart worthy of contempt?...”

Featured in the exhibition were the stories and visual representations of languages that were developed by marginalized groups within different countries and cultures, created out of necessity in order to communicate within oppressive spheres. Lubunca, a cant utilized by the queer and sex-working community in Turkey, mixes words and phrases from Romani, Greek, Armenian, French, and more. In China, largely during the time of the Qing Dynasty,  Nüshu was developed and spoken solely by women from the Hunan Region in order to navigate around a traditional, patriarchal society. 

In terms of domestic culture, last year’s “Hauntological Project” presents a unique engagement with the well-known festivities of Obon. It is two days following the Obon festival that the spirits of the passed are said to return to this world, and the exhibition utilized sensations of sound and other immersive techniques to delve into the spiritual side of culture in a unique way. 

There is an attractive charm to presenting these more unorthodox elements of culture in a place as recognizably old school as Yanaka, as the neighborhood is one that many would associate with a Tokyo of yesteryear.  In appearance, its architecture seems relatively untouched since bubble-era Japan, and laced throughout its winding streets are historic shrines and temples. However, for those delving deeper into the real Yanaka, they’ll know the area’s strong connections to the arts and aesthetics. Home to some of the most lauded traditional craftsmen within metropolitan Tokyo, and the aforementioned University of the Arts is located nearby, naturally having art students familiar with its streets and creative scene.

“From abroad we see the pop culture, but we don’t know about the underground,” says Verstrepen in regard to the understanding of a country like Japan. “There is a great scene for that in Kansai,” they say, and now living and operating out of Tokyo, they look to help in propagating a similar thing in Tokyo, but for many different cultures. In a country as monoethnic as Japan, the means for exposure to lesser-known, yet immensely important, subcultures from around the world can be limited, even in a city as large as Tokyo. The stark contrast between what is known and what is able to be discovered presents both a challenge and a golden opportunity that Datsuijo is structured around.

Datsuijo and providing a platform for queer voices

Through the diverse set of backgrounds, identities, experiences, and expertise the Datsuijo collective boasts, there are endless approaches to promoting lesser-known subjects or for platforming voices for otherwise overlooked demographics. This makes the group an inherent vector for fostering the LGBTQ community and bringing their presence forward. Much of their exhibitions center around queer culture, aesthetics, and overarching themes of sexuality as presented in society. The inclusion of Turkish Lubunca in last year’s exhibition is an example of such, but the prominence of the subject has maintained a strong presence throughout the collective’s history. 

In February 2023, “Queer Horizons” featured works from a diverse set of artists that presented new visions for the queer experience as well as foresight on the potential future of the community; turbulent yet hopeful, uncertain yet exciting. Later that year, the space was host to a screening of the film “Reproductive Garden” by Marina Lisa Komiya and Chihiro Suzuki, a film that challenged the standards of a heteronormative society and proposed how places for queerness could be built up. Upcoming in 2025, the collective will be collaborating with the Center for Gender Studies at Tokyo’s International Christian University, which will feature a lecture and creative-writing session. 

The prominence of LGBTQ-centric works is an important aspect of the Datsuijo collective’s efforts, not solely due to their dedication to progressive social politics but also because of the lived experience of those involved. With members like Cleo Vestrepren and Serhat Orta existing in this space both in their home countries and in Japan, the need to share works and amplify voices that present the experience becomes more important. Throughout history and from country to country, queer movements have had to morph and adapt to the dominant culture. 

Between Vestrepren and Orta, it is different in France compared to Turkey, and for the two of them, it is different in their home countries compared to Japan. Both cite the safety as a large positive in Japan in regards to queer identity, but on the other hand, the options for more outward expression are more limited. While Japan, of course, has a queer community, it is largely seen as more heteronormative, existing in more modest means and hidden beneath the protective layers. There is a consistent thread of being “stuck in a limbo state” when describing queer identity in any culture, but especially in Japan. It seems that Datsuijo serves as that place to be more open, unashamedly bare within the spotlight.

Datsuijo moving forward

The collective looks to use the space to bring whatever social issues need discussion or promotion. “The most critical issue we’ve been focusing on is the war in Palestine,” says Orta,

and throughout much of last year, they took many opportunities to empower Palestinian voices and spotlight Palestinian culture. Everything from sign-making workshops for protests, screenings for films and documentaries, lectures by experts in the field, and even events surrounding Palestinian cuisine have taken place at Datsuijo, and given the collective’s initial excerpts on their website, it will continue to be a major part of their efforts. 

On the broader scale, continuing to be a place for fostering art community and discussion will always be at the core of Datsuijo as a concept, and promoting the space in a way that attracts more people of diverse backgrounds has become a major goal. At the moment, while the space is popular amongst the art-educated of Tokyo, reaching the audience of people who are outside of that demographic will help in building up the community. There are a number of challenges in this realm, but those same challenges are the inherent charms of the Datsuijo project in the first place: Though Yanaka is a bit of an out-of-the-way location, those who venture out to it will find that the Datsuijo space is something that will likely resonate with them. Furthermore, while the initial intimacy of the space may invoke a bit of hesitancy from visitors, the opportunity for insightful interaction remains its largest appeal. “We want to work with other groups, collectives, or NPOs that are in other fields. That will be a way for us to reach more audiences,” says Vestrepren. Striking a balance that makes the space more known yet also maintains its mantra of being a place to be revealing and open is the key for Datsuijo in 2025. 

In the future, residency programs and further renovations to improve the homely feel of the space and expand its capabilities as a working space may be the next big steps. Of course, to support and grow the space, means of supporting funds have been a large priority, with a Datsuijo GoFundMe being set up in early 2025. Donations of all kinds are welcome, and more information on this and other ways to support Datsuijo will be available below. 

Ultimately, Datsuijo is a group that utilizes its diverse character as a means of expression and education. The people of Tokyo, especially, are known to carry heavy burdens. Between work, societal pressures, and other responsibilities, there are a lot of layers that serve as protection in one context yet are debilitating in another. For the five members of the collective, the need to alleviate some of this serves as the perfect means of sending a message and creating a space where it is best to show it all off.