Did you come to Japan by yourself, Kirsten?

Yes, I traveled around various places like Tokyo before coming to Fukuoka. I did a lecture in Tokyo and happened to meet some friends.

You mentioned you know some people here.

Yes, people that used to live in the Netherlands and are Japanese.

Fukuoka is your final stop in Japan,right? Then you're flying to Korea. How long will you be staying in Korea?

One week. Of course you can fly to Seoul but I'd rather go by train boat. But I'm also very quickly seasick so I hope it's a good idea. It’s my first time in Korea, so I’m really looking forward to it. I’m going to give a talk at Book Society in Seoul.

You also did a talk in Tokyo the other day, at POST. How was that?

It was a small event, but it was a wonderful evening. I got to meet so many people. It was also nice because it was translated. For me that was for the first time to have a sort of simultaneous translation. It's really funny because then you have all this time between.

You had to wait. (laughs) Was that your first time talking about MacGuffin in Asia?

Yes, it was. I’ve been to Japan a few times before, though.

While I was in Tokyo, I stayed at theReversible Destiny Lofts by the way.

Where is that?

It’s a residential building designed by Shusaku Arakawa and Madeline Gins. I am not sure I pronounce it right. Madeline Gins was Arakawa’s partner, and also a philosopher and writer.

Oh! You mean Tenmei Hanten Jutaku in Mitaka. That’s amazing—you actually stayed there!

It was so colorful, with uneven floors and strange changes in level...

Yeah, such a unique architectural concept.

On my first night, I woke up to an earthquake. It’s already a bizarre building, but when everything started shaking, it felt completely surreal. Look—here’s a photo. This is the apartment in Mitaka.

Wow!

The colors are really distinctive. This is a yellow, round-shaped space. This part’s for yoga, with tatami mats. And this is the bedroom.

What did you do while staying there?

Mainly just slept and basked in the sunlight. The building is unique, of course, but more than that… the light and color change every hour. The mornings are especially beautiful when the sun begins to shift.

Did you make it to visit the park also?

Yes, I went there too. There was no one else—just me. It’s a crazy place—utopian and apocalypotic at the same time.

Wow, you were completely alone in that park?

Yes. I want to write something about it. I'm not sure what. It was so interesting to experience, like walking around in a Ghibli movie. Have you ever been there?

I’ve read several books by Arakawa and Gins, but I’ve never been to the site. Wasn’t it cold in Gifu?

There was a little snow. But compared to the Netherlands, Japan feels almost Mediterranean. This trip is part work, but it also feels like a vacation. And today, the weather is so nice and warm here.

It was raining this morning, but it stopped just a few minutes before I left to pick you up at Hakata Station.

Fukuoka is much further south than Tokyo, right?

Yes, it’s in the southern. It’s a very compact city—you can get from the center to the airport in 15 minutes.

That’s amazing. So different from Tokyo. From Mitaka, it felt like it took hours to reach the city. Are we doing the interview at the FANTASIA studio?

Yes, we’re almost there!

Do you run the space together with a team, like a startup group?

My husband and I founded it five years ago, and sometimes we work with team in Tokyo or Fukuoka. But we don’t make money from the space itself—this is our experiment.

So it started with just the two of you. Living together and being business partners—that’s amazing.

You and Ernst create MacGuffin together. Both of you have been co-editors-in-chief and co-art directors for over ten years now. Are the two of you also partners?

Not. We're business partners—it's like a different kind of marriage, in a way. (laughs) Actually, Ernst was away for a while because he was ill.

Oh, I see. I noticed that the Editor’s Note beside the table of contents was signed by just one person for a while. It had always been co-signed before. But in the last two issues, your names are back together again.

Yes, he took a few months off, but he’s back again, all healthy. I’m really relieved. Our team is super small that even one person missing makes things really difficult.

You work with such a small team? I imagine - editing MacGuffin requires a huge amount of research.

Of course—we work with a lot of contributors.

Do you have a team here in Japan? MacGuffin often features articles on Japanese culture, like tatami and such.

No we don't have any team in Japan. That's just I think because we’re always trying to see things from a perspective that’s a little different from the typical Western point of view.

I see. Well, here we are. Let’s talk here. Do you smoke?

I don’t, so I’m fine—thank you.

Is sparkling water okay for you?

Yes, thank you. This is such a lovely space—I like that green area. You’ve got so many plants.

We just moved in here at the end of last year. The place we ran before this was in an old building, but we had to vacate it because it was being redeveloped into luxury apartments.

That’s a shame.

Yeah, it happens a lot in this city. And here are our MacGuffin issues—from Issue 4, The Sink, to Issue 14, The Wall.

Wow, that’s amazing collection! And this wall—this setup is incredible!

We put up our favorite spreads from the magazine for this interview.

It's so nice to see what you picked out—it feels like an exhibition! I should take a video. Oh, and I brought an extra copy to give you. You can add it to your collection.

That’s CAIRO ARCHIVES, the special edition from last year, right? Actually, it has just got in our bookshelf from Netherlands! There aren’t any bookstores in Japan that stock it.

Wow, really? Thank you! Well then, maybe you can keep this one at home.

Since we have it here, can we start with this project? You collaborated with a university and design groups in Cairo, right?

Yes, we worked with a lot of writers, researchers, and designers. It actually started as part of the research for Issue 13, The Letter. We traveled to Cairo specifically for that issue.

I see—it was the issue on writing. That was such a brilliant edition, like a whole universe of letterforms. From feminist print materials to graffiti, grimoires, slogan T-shirts, and internet memes.

We visited Cairo in 2023, right after the events of October 7. It was a very strange moment.

Yeah, Israel invaded Gaza after the Hamas attack, right?

Yes. We had planned to hold workshops in Cairo, but of course, under the circumstances, the local community had other priorities. So we shifted our plans and instead focused on excursions and fieldwork. That actually allowed us to build deeper relationships with people in Cairo.

So you ended up engaging with the city more deeply than through a workshop.

Exactly. We extended our trip and stayed in Cairo for several weeks. That’s when we noticed something: Many people in Egypt keep personal archives.

Personal archives?

Egypt is a dictatorship. People are afraid to speak out, to communicate directly—it could be dangerous. So instead, they preserve collections of letterpress-printed materials. These aren’t “official records,” but personal archives that mean a lot to them.

So archiving became their form of resistance. There’s a line in the introduction to the book that struck me: “In Cairo, everything disappears. Archiving is a form of resistance,” a participant said.

Yes—one example is this comic archive. It’s from the 1980s. Even the comics themselves were precious. This one was published in a magazine called Look. All the Arabic text here says “LUKE.” It can be read from both sides of the book.

Fascinating. So through that research, you ended up organizing a pop-up design-studio with local collaborators. The original purpose was just to create an article for Issue 13, but it evolved into a whole separate publication.

Even for people who love MacGuffin, it’s really hard to get the early issues—like us.

Same for us, actually. We only have three copies left ourselves. They’re locked away in a safe—I don’t even touch them.

They’re stored as archives, right?

Yeah. People often ask us, “Why don’t you reprint?” But MacGuffin is a very expensive project to produce. Reprinting just some of the early issues is almost impossible.

Expensive? What do you mean by that?

The printing costs are really high. Paper, binding methods, production costs—everything. Lots of things that make it expensive, and of course a lot of pages as well.

You always list the name of the paper at the end of each issue—I love that detail. You can really feel how much care goes into the materials.

Yes, we love the paper we use right now. The thickening of the paper is 1.5 inches, and has a nice weight to it.

It’s matte, soft, and has such a rich texture. Is it made by a Dutch paper company?

No, it’s Italian. They make really good paper.

When you launched the magazine, what did you start with?

First we had the title. Then we had the paper.

Yes. That’s such a great name. Some people might not be familiar with it, but it’s a term for an object that drives a story forward—popularized by film director Alfred Hitchcock.

Yes, exactly. After the title came the paper. And then we chose the typeface: Churchward NewsType. In Issue 13, The Letter, we interviewed the type designer who created it.

What kind of designer was he?

Joseph Churchward was a type designer from New Zealand. He created over 600 incredible typefaces entirely by hand—none of them were digitized.

How did you even discover his work? I’ll have to go back and read that article. I imagine you did a lot of research before launching the magazine.

We spent about a year. And it took a long time to raise funds. With magazines, you have to pay for everything upfront—for contributors, copyright fees…. That’s the tough part of making a magazine.

That must be a huge cost to cover yourself. So the launch was ten years ago?

Yes, this April marks our 10th anniversary.

April? That’s next month!

Yes—we’re planning to have a little celebration in London in September.

Wow, that sounds exciting!

We haven’t decided exactly what kind of event it’ll be, but we’ll definitely have a party. (laughs) When we first started, we thought, “If it lasts even a year, that would be great.” And now here we are—ten years later. I guess MacGuffin has officially become a teenager.

The first issue was The Bed, right? Was the concept for the magazine something you and Ernst came up with together?

Yes, the idea had already been forming before we launched. At the time, Ernst and I were collaborating on a few design-projects. Through that, we started thinking, “We want to create a magazine that focuses on the object itself, in order to expand the definition of design.” We talked to a lot of people about it, but everyone said, “Don’t do it. You must be crazy. Just make it a website.”

Like, “A magazine won’t work”?

Exactly. People said things like, “Why waste so much paper and trees?”

But you two had no doubts?

None at all. We’ve always loved magazines. Ernst had already made magazines before, and I come from a graphic design background. We believed this idea could only exist in the form of a printed magazine. We wanted to mix all kinds of formats and layers—visual essays, text essays, long reads, short columns, personal stories. The mix of all those different forms is something that we could only do in a magazine.

That’s exactly the joy of MacGuffin—the way you explore a single object like a bed, a cabinet, or a chain from so many different angles.

And there are things that just don’t work digitally. I mean, you can't read long reads of screen, and visual essays should really be experienced on paper. From the beginning, we said we wanted to do a sort of portable exhibition in this magazine.

A portable exhibition — I love that!

At the time of the launch, you were working as a designer, and historian also?

Yes, and also doing writing, curating, advisory work—various things.

Are you still doing all of that now?

No, I'm teaching. Just once a week at an art school. Ernst teaches as well.

How do you share your perspectives and values with each other? I mean… haven’t you ever argue while working together?

No, I don’t think so. Of course, sometimes we have discussions about what is going to be the cover. Ernst has a strong background in craft, and I come from a background of critical design and writing—so it’s actually a great match. Sometimes our roles even reverse.

MacGuffin’s format hasn’t really changed at all since the first issue, has it? It seems so perfectly thought-out and complete from the beginning.

We had a clear sense from the start of how it should be. And as I mentioned earlier, we spent a lot of time on research before launching—thinking about what kind of content to include, what format to use, who to ask to write for us, who the final editor should be. I think, for a magazine, the tone of voice is super important—just as important as the layout, the paper, and the typeface.

MacGuffin feels like a wise and witty university professor—clever, but never without humor. That tone was something you designed from the beginning?

Yes, though when you look at the first one, there's lots of funny things! (laughs) There were a lot of white pages, very book-ish. And also, we always run a feature at the back of the magazine called “The Life of Things.” It's this sort of interview with somebody who's combining life and work in a very special way. But in the first issue, it appears right at the beginning, which is really strange that you don't start with the bed which is the theme. And you start with something completely different and nobody understood that. (laughs)

Made some confusions. (laughs)

We made a few mistakes like that. (laughs) And yet, the first issue sold out within a few weeks. That made us think, “Wait—what just happened?” We never expected it to succeed. It wasn’t until Issue 3 or 4 that we really felt, “Okay, this is our magazine.” Since then, the format hasn’t changed for years—though the content definitely has evolved.

One of the great things about MacGuffin is the choice of themes for each issue. The 1st Issue was The Bed, then The Window—so at first it seemed like you were going to continue with interior themes. But then Issue 3 was The Rope, followed by The Sink and The Cabinet. And then Issue 6 was The Ball. After that came The Trousers, moving into clothing.

Well, I think because we were thinking about how can you look at the world through the eyes of an object. So we decided to focus on one specific thing and explore all the different stories and perspectives connected to it. We also try to make a sort of rhythm between the issues.

How do you decide on the theme for each issue?

Sometimes it takes six months to settle on a theme, and other times it takes two seconds. It really depends. What’s important is that the object is interesting enough, but also that it contains a certain ambiguity. We chose The Bed as the first issue because beds are not popular in design world.

That’s interesting. It’s such a major piece of furniture, but not popular?

Exactly. It’s not really considered a design object. if you go to the Salone del Mobile, you’ll see chairs and tables everywhere—but you don't see beds. Not a lot, at least.

Once the object is decided, how do you go about building the issue?

Each issue is divided into three chapters that correspond to the object’s different functions or symbolic meanings. For instance, in the Ball issue, it was “to Roll”, “to Shine”, and “to Bubble.” So the first chapter was very much about play or about games, the second one was very much about disco balls; lots of more lifestyle things. And the third chapter was about architecture and the globe in architecture. For us, the object gives us the sort of formidable way to get those perspectives together.

So there was this rule of having three chapter for each issue from the beginning?

Yes, that’s something we’ve kept consistent from the beginning. When we talk about what object to do, we have to start with three sub-themes. You know you have to ask yourselves, “is it interesting enough to have these different chapters?” For instance, the next issue is going to be The Stitch…

Oh, Issue 15 is about stitches? That sounds like such an intriguing theme.

Before we even started the research for the articles, we had in mind like, “okay, what is the stitch? Can it be something very hopeful?”. Then we start thinking “It could be to Connect, to Repaire, and… what would the third be?” Thinking in terms of three sub-themes right from the start actually helps us structure the issue more easily. Once the main and sub-themes are set, we immediately begin creating the flatplan to check the rhythm of the entire magazine.

MacGuffin definitely has a strong sense of rhythm across the pages. I remember reading somewhere that the theme for Issue 4, The Sink, was inspired by a novel?

Yes, it was from a story by Italo Calvino, where there’s a city made entirely of plumbing—“Armilla.” From there, we arrived at the idea of the sink… which eventually led us to Gordon Matta-Clark. He’s the artist who would cut literal sinkholes into buildings. So much of our process is built on that kind of associative thinking. Yeah, so that's mostly how we go from one thing to the other.

And how do you make content? So many things to plan, huh?

We always start with people we know. Then we go to their friends, and then their friends’ friends…(laughs) It becomes a kind of network.

So that network is what supports MacGuffin.

There’s a page in The Sink issue that features a plumber, right? That was actually shot in a friend’s kitchen—we did the whole experiment there.

Really? I love that page. It was also great how you credited the plumber by name.

They unfixed the taps themselves everyday and called the plumber to come fix it—again and again, just so they could get the photos. Of course, they explained everything to him. (laughs) A lot of inspiration comes very much from our own lives.

I see.

This doormat here—it’s actually part of Ernst’s collection.

Wait, really? He collected all these?

Yes! He collects lots of things.

So inspiration comes from daily life, and then stories develop with the research and with collaborators. Has your network expanded with each issue?

Definitely. I think from he Trousers issue, we began working with other people in other parts of the world. And it just gave us a different perspective.

How does that network expand, exactly?

It grows almost by association, like a chain of connections. The Trousers issue actually started with an essay—on Levi’s jeans. It explored questions like “How do jeans influence behavior?” and “What’s the relationship between clothing and human identity?”

That’s already so interesting. Very MacGuffin-like.

From there, our interest shifted to the issue of fast fashion. Which then led us to jeans production in China. We were invited there by the triennial of Guangzhou to make an installation for the exhibition, so we did site-specific research there As part of that, we were asked to collaborate with university students locally.

So it started with an essay and ended up in China.

During our research, we got in touch with huge group of African immigrants in Guangzhou. Their culture and integration in Chinese culture really fascinated us. We started to learn about how they live—an unofficial population of over 300,000 people who’ve integrated into society in their own way. So, we worked with the students to make an exhibition and create a video in which objects from African culture wedded those from Chinese culture.

It’s amazing how one action leads to another, and new connections keep forming.

Yes — one thing leads to the next, guided by intuition. I think that’s one of the real joys of being independent: you get to follow your instincts. It’s like throwing a stone into a pond and watching where the ripples go.

Following your intuition.

It’s the same with many of the projects as you see here. It is not planned from the beginning.

Maybe that’s why—reading MacGuffin always stirs something in me. A sense of adventure, curiosity. Like when I used to flip through encyclopedias as a kid.

That makes me really happy to hear. Because that’s exactly how we approach making the magazine. We draw inspiration from all kinds of stories and things—that’s why we do it. It all starts with curiosity. What’s happening there? How is something made?

Research is really just curiosity, isn’t it?

It is. And then it’s about finding the right form for each article. We always ask, “Which sub-theme fits which format?” Does this one work better as an essay? Or maybe a photo series? Or a manual? That’s something most magazines probably don’t think about in that way.

Your issues really do include a wide range of formats.

Exactly. And we love finding connections between those different forms. There’s a moment, when the issue is finally done, where we feel like—ah, it’s come together. We at least try to be as kaleidoscopic as possible. But we also work through association, so perfection isn’t really the goal from the start. We know it’s impossible. Even if we offer many perspectives, we can’t cover everything.

And I love that you always include those contributor bios at the end. They’re so unique.

Yes, a lot of people tell us that! We really look forward to that section ourselves.

I feel like I’ve known you for years, just from reading your bios in every issue. (laughs)

I think it's super important to know who wrote it, you know? . How they’re connected to the object they’re writing about.

Absolutely. It makes it feel like someone is really behind this magazine.

Yes, they are real people with real interests and real life. And every time, we receive such a colorful range of contributions—it’s always a joy.

You and Ernst must really love human beings as a creature. Reading MacGuffin, I’m always reminded of how lovable and strange we humans are. Sometimes funny, sometimes terrifying.

Yes, humans are weird. And sometimes, they do terrible things. But we try to look at that too—those difficult sides.

Is it difficult to find the right writers?

In the early days, we mostly asked people we knew—because we couldn’t afford to pay much. It’s gotten easier as the magazine has become more well-known, but still, it’s not easy to find writers who can strike the right tone.

You mean a MacGuffin kind of tone?

Exactly. It can’t be too academic, and it can’t be too journalistic either. We’re very lucky to work with an excellent final editor who’s able to shape the text beautifully and bring it into that MacGuffin voice.

I see—you didn’t want it to feel too academic. We also dream of making a magazine someday. Do you think building a network is essential?

First and foremost, having a good team is crucial. One of the best things that happened to us was forming a strong partnership with an amazing graphic designer right from the beginning. We were very lucky in that way.

MacGuffin always seems to find wonderful collaborators.

Sometimes they find us. (laughs) Of course, we also reach out and ask people to collaborate, but sometimes it just happens naturally.

Oh! Hi. She’s very young, no? What’s her name?

Yeah she’s five months old. Her name is “Shiwasu.” It’s an old Japanese word for December. We found her on the street at the end of last year—she was a stray kitten.

She’s really curious!

Yes, very much so. Especially with water. We have a big fish tank at home, and she’ll sit and stare at the fish all day long.

I get it—I have two cats myself. With a fish tank around, It's like a buffet. (laughs)

Shall we take a short break? Here—this is a traditional Japanese sweet.

May I? It looks a bit like mochi. I had some sweets in Toyama yesterday—they were amazing. I think they were called chakin. It was a really good combination with matcha. It was really crowded though—I had to be in line for like half an hour.

Over tourism is a serious issue in Japan right now. Kyoto is especially overwhelmed with foreign visitors.

Yes, absolutely. I rented a bike in Kyoto, and the outskirts were beautiful—peaceful, with nature, and fewer people. But the city center felt a lot like Amsterdam, where I live. Both have historic city cores…

And “I Amsterdam” was such a successful civic pride campaign that it ended up attracting too many tourists.

Exactly. Kyoto too—it’s starting to feel a bit like a historical theme park. The situations are so similar.

It’s become a real issue for residents. The impact on daily life seems quite heavy.

Same in Amsterdam. Everything’s getting more expensive. It’s harder and harder to find a place to live. It’s really becoming a problem.

Do you feel a strong sense of attachment to Amsterdam or the Netherlands?

I like Amsterdam, yes. But the Netherlands as a whole… maybe not so much. It’s not that I really dislike it, but the problem in the Netherlands is that everything is so meticulously designed. There’s not even a square centimeter of untouched, natural space left.

So everything is built and planned by human hands?

Exactly. It feels like every inch is scheduled and controlled, as if it all runs on a strict timetable.

What’s your impression of Tokyo?

I really like Tokyo. It has such diverse neighborhoods, each with its own character. It’s quite special. Some areas even feel like small villages—they’re very cozy. Fukuoka, on the other hand… it has this southern, almost Mediterranean atmosphere.

That’s true—the climate, the nature, the vibe of the people—everything.

People are friendly here. Earlier, you mentioned wanting to start a magazine. What kind of magazine do you have in mind?

We always say we’d like to create a magazine that gives young people a little push forward. Something that might make them want to start a project that feels personal—something that holds their own sense of self, like MacGuffin does for you.

It's more about inspiration, maybe?

Exactly. The spirit is what matters. It would be a magazine about projects—including businesses—but not only that.

That sounds really interesting.

To start something, we are overwhelmed by all this information—“How to succeed,” “How to build the perfect team,” “What is market trend,” and so on. But starting a project, we believe, begins with something far more personal—a gesture toward the world.

A spark that pushes you forward.

Yes, exactly. It comes from personal experience, personal problem, or a sense of issue—something from within. That’s what we believe. And that’s the spirit behind this interview series, too.

I agree—what drives someone to do something is deeply personal. And I think that motivation is incredibly important.

This place is called FANTASIA, and many people who come here tend to hesitate. They say things like, “Who am I to do this?” As if they can’t quite believe in their own personal motivation.

Maybe that’s because they haven’t had a success experience yet?

It might also be an issue of education. In Japan’s group-based education system, students aren’t really encouraged to run their own experiments or to reflect deeply on themselves or what they’re doing. It may be something systemic.

I’ve worked with Japanese students as well, and yes—I do get the sense that they’re used to being told what they’re supposed to do. But at the same time, they have such a delicate, unique sensibility. That’s something we’re often missing in the Netherlands.

You’ve worked with Japanese students before?

Yes, we once hosted exchange students from Japan in the design department of a university. There were two of them. They were incredibly talented, but also extremely shy. For every assignment, they would ask, “What should I do?”

I totally understand that.

And I had to tell them, “That’s not the point.” “What matters is what you want to do.” They were afraid to express their opinions. It took a while for them to break out of their shells.

Would you mind if we ask a little more deeply about the beginning of MacGuffin? Maybe some personal episodes?

Sure. Actually, before we launched the magazine, I had an accident. I fell from a window and broke my spine and leg. I was in the hospital for months. By some miracle, I recovered, but from that moment on, I thought of it as the beginning of my “second life.” I felt I needed to carefully think about what I wanted to do next.

I see—it was a turning point that really changed your life.

At the time, I was working on my PhD dissertation about subcultures in graphic design. But I also had this urge to step outside the narrow confines of the academic world. Around that time, I was doing a project with Ernst in Vietnam—an installation in a park using indigo-dyed fabric that flowed like a river. The concept was his.

Ah, the Indigo Project—I read about that.

Yes, exactly. We traveled to northern Vietnam for it. During the trip, we spent long hours on a motorcycle, and Ernst and I had so many deep conversations along the way. That was in 2014.

So this was after the accident?

Yes, after. I was just out of surgery, so I was sitting in the back of the motorcycle. (laughs) I wasn't really there, but I also was there. I remember thinking, “What do I really want to do next?” We arrived in a village in the north and started working with women there to create the indigo fabric.

So the fabric for the Dutch installation was being made in rural Vietnam. That’s a fascinating project.

It was intended to highlight the women’s skills and knowledge of craft. These were women who had been abducted from Vietnam to China and forced into prostitution. They eventually returned to their home villages, but were expelled by their families. Meeting them was an incredibly special experience.

What made it so special?

When we explained the project, they didn’t understand it at all. To them, they were simply making fabric for something. Nothing more, nothing less. They didn’t understand the whole concept of design

That was the first time you’d had such an experience?

Yes. They were masterful artisans and took the work very seriously, but ideas like art, design, installation—those abstract concepts didn’t resonate. That moment really opened our eyes.

It must have been a shock for both of you.

Yes, we started asking, “What are we even doing? What is the role of craft? Who are we making this for?” Ernst and I talked a lot about it—about what’s happening in the design world today, how we ourselves perceive design, and whether that view needs to shift.

So it was in distant Vietnam that you were prompted to re-examine what design really is.

Exactly. At large-scale fairs like Salone del Mobile, new designs are unveiled every year. But we started to feel that the focus was overwhelmingly commercial. You start to ask yourself: how many chairs do we really need? How many tables are enough? How many faucets? That’s when we began thinking: we want to work on something that expands the definition of design. We felt we needed a platform for that. At first, we considered an exhibition format. Eventually, we landed on making a magazine.

So that desire to expand the definition of design—that was the initial drive for both of you.

Design itself, and the people behind it—designers and craftspeople—are of course important. But what we’re really interested in is what happens behind the scenes of design. What is design? How is it made? How has it been used in people’s everyday lives? What kinds of consequences does it lead to? For example, in Issue 10, The Bottle, we featured a story on the global struggle for sand.

The issue focused on bottles—how does that relate to sand?

To make glass bottles, sand is essential. But there’s a shortage of sand, and it’s being fought over. So what does it really mean to “make a bottle”? What resources are required? And what are the consequences of that process? Those are all design questions, too. The kinds of stories we want to tell take a different perspective than most design magazines.

You feel a disconnect with how traditional design magazines operate?

Yes, I’m not familiar with Japanese design magazines, but in Europe there are so many that focus on interior or architectural design. They’re filled with page after page of new product launches. That’s not the kind of magazine we want to make. We love design—we really do. But we feel uncomfortable with the commercial side of the industry, and with how some magazines glorify designers like VIP celebrities.

From your perspective, what defines a good design magazine?

There are certainly some stimulating design magazines out there. One that inspired us during our early days is the Spanish interior magazine Nest. I appreciated how it emphasized the people inhabiting the spaces. Another favorite is the French graphic design magazine Revue Faire. Each issue is dedicated to a single article, and its format and graphic design is quite intriguing.

What was your educational background?

As a teenager, I wasn't confident about pursuing graphic design, so I studied art history at university. After graduating, I returned to the design field and worked as an art director.

Did you work for a publishing company?

Yes, I worked as an image editor and researcher.

So, your interest in design dates back to your teenage years.

I've always been fascinated by what can be expressed through graphic design. Communicating through text and images captivated me. During my student years, I was uncertain about my career path. At that time, there weren't many educational programs that combined design and writing. This intersection has consistently been a focal point in my life.

In your youth, you would ride on bike 25 kilometers to get your favorite magazines, right?

I'm glad you remember that. Did I mention it before?

I came across it in an interview article.

VINYL magazine was truly special. It was created by Max Kisman, a renowned Dutch graphic designer. He was quite young at the time and crafted a new typeface and visual identity for each issue—every two weeks! And this was before the advent of computers.

That's impressive. Designing new typefaces and visuals for each issue. It highlights your interest in both imagery and text in design.

Concepts are crucial in design. To understand what you're designing, you need to write and articulate your thoughts. Writing serves as a method of comprehension and reasoning. Thinking is intertwined with text. At art universities, I often engage in discussions about this. Some question, "Why should design students write? They're not writers."

You do believe designers should write?

Absolutely. Sometimes, I also assign workshops for designers involving audio media. How can they express visual elements through sound? It's a valuable experience for them. Designing with other means of communication, like text or sound, can be very valuable to see things from another perspective, in my opinion. I once created a radio documentary myself.

Earlier, you mentioned that you were looking for investors when you started the magazine. Wasn’t there a concern that outside funding might influence the direction of the magazine?

We were lucky to receive a grant from the Creative Industries Fund in the Netherlands. That gave us the boost we needed to get started. The grant wasn’t for the production of the magazine itself, but for the research.

For the research.

Yes. For the first issue, we contributed a significant amount of our own money. We also had a private investor who helped cover part of the printing costs, and a few advertisers supported us as well. That’s how we got it off the ground. Back then, our print run was much smaller than it is now.

It’s great to hear the real story behind it. By the way, I saw that The Chain issue included an ad from Hermès.

Yes—and in the next issue, The Stitch, we’re planning to collaborate with Hermès again. Stitching is such a central element to their work—especially in leather products.

Wow, that’s exciting.

Would you mind if we ask a bit about the business side of things? People often say that publishing magazines has become increasingly difficult.

That’s true. But MacGuffin is something people tend to want to collect. Back-issues sell really well, and in the end, each issue sells out. So as long as we sell everything, we’re able to recoup the costs—which we’re very grateful for. Otherwise, we simply couldn’t continue.

So you’ve built a solid, loyal readership. How many copies do you sell per issue?

Roughly 10,000 copies per issue. We also have a base of subscribers. And what’s really encouraging is that libraries around the world have started acquiring it too. That means there are way more readers than just the people who buy it—and that’s what makes us happiest: seeing the audience grow.

That’s fantastic.

There’s growing attention across Asia. We’ve been close friends with the fashion magazines like The Gentlewoman and Fantastic Man, but our situation is totally different. For us, advertising is tricky. We’ve done a few collaborations, though.

But still, your sponsors are quite impressive. With grants and partners like Hermès, MacGuffin seems to have built a strong independent publishing model.

In Europe, we’re fortunate to have access to some very good grants. It makes it easier to pursue projects. The reason I was able to come to POST in Tokyo this time was thanks to one of those grants. That said, the commercial world is always a bit conservative. Unless you're working with an art-forward brand like Hermès, it’s hard to take risks or try something new with commercial partners.

How about the pricing—would you say MacGuffin is on the more expensive side?

Well, it is expensive to make. We work with a lot of contributors, and we spend a lot of time on research. Plus, we use high-quality materials—especially the paper.

Yes, and it’s a really thick magazine too.

Exactly. It’s more like a book, isn’t it? And being thick means the shipping costs are also higher—especially when we have to send it halfway across the world.

Ah, of course. Shipping is part of the cost too.

Sure, we could save a lot by using glossy paper throughout and cutting down the number of pages. And even now, we don’t pay ourselves much. But we still want to do it this way.

That unwillingness to compromise is probably what draws MacGuffin’s fans in. But after 10 years, I imagine you’ve gotten better at managing the budget?

Yes, but running a small cultural business is always a challenge. We apply for grants for each issue, and for that we need to plan carefully—figure out what the costs are, what needs to get done. It’s something we’ve always been careful about, even from the very beginning.

So you’re the cautious type.

There’s just so much to do. We handle online sales, promotion—everything ourselves. And lately, we’ve also been running more workshops, which I really enjoy. Because with magazines, you never really know who’s reading them—so it’s great to have opportunities to speak directly with readers. I really felt that during the talk in Tokyo the other day.

Who handles your distribution?

We work with five distributors. For global distribution, there’s Idea Books in the Netherlands and Public Knowledge Books in London. For the U.S., we go through MMS, which is also based in London. We also have one Dutch company that’s strong locally and one in Spain. But we don’t have a Asian distributor, Ideabooks runs that.

It would be wonderful if it became easier to access here in Japan. You mentioned this earlier, and I’ve also seen you use the word “platform” in other interviews. Do you think that reflects your broader business philosophy?

Yes, definitely. It started very simply—as just a magazine. But gradually, exhibitions and workshops began to grow around it. These things developed naturally, or perhaps slowly, into a kind of ongoing program or space for activity. Now we even make podcasts.

Yes, I’ve listened to them. The sound design is beautiful—it’s like listening to a vinyl record.

When we run workshops, whether at local art schools or internationally, we get to exchange ideas with a really wide range of people. In that way, MacGuffin is also a platform—a place where people can participate and collaborate.

Hearing all of this today, I’m amazed by how far MacGuffin has expanded. There are so many contributors, an editorial team, and you collaborate with universities around the world.

Over these ten years, we’ve done so many different things—workshops, research trips… So yes, that’s why we’ve started calling it a “platform.” Though maybe it’s a bit of an abstract term, to be honest! (laughs) There are still plenty of things we haven’t been able to get to.

Like what?

We’d love to create an online research platform. Something simple to start with—just a place to collect all the links from contributors and archive our own research.

So you’d be building an archive.

Exactly. We do an enormous amount of research for each issue, but only a small portion of it makes it into the magazine. There’s a vast amount of information left unpublished—things you can’t find anywhere else online.

Are you thinking of creating a new digital outlet?

Not exactly a media outlet—more like a standalone website specifically for research. A two-way space where, after an issue is published, people can contribute or add to the research. Guest editors could even extract or upload new information. But it’s a whole project of its own, and right now we just don’t have the time.

It sounds like you’re envisioning a kind of school online.

Oh, maybe that's a good idea.

Finally, a question about the future of MacGuffin. Do you hope to grow this platform even bigger?

That's a tricky question... We've always wrestled with how far we want to grow. Expanding would mean a larger team, and we’d have to change the business-model as well. Honestly, we're very happy with the independence we have now, working with a small team.

You’re worried that expanding could compromise the charm of being independent.

Exactly. At our current size, we can say things like, "Let’s delay the next issue by two months because our research isn’t done yet" (laughs). We’re not good at rigid six-month publishing cycles—eight months is more our rhythm. But I think that flexibility is one of the strengths of staying independent.

You want to keep that spirit. Still, ten years is a long time.

Yes, it is. We've had so many conversations between the two of us—"Should we keep going?" "Is it time to end?" "Maybe we should try something completely new?"

You’ve discussed all kinds of ideas, then.

When Ernst was away for several months due to illness, I had to manage alone. It was tough, but it also made me think: Maybe it would be interesting to invite guest editors someday. To keep MacGuffin's format but let someone else lead an issue. I think it would be exciting to try that in the future.

Have your perspectives shifted over time? I ask because Issue 14, The Wall, felt quite critical—it really engaged with social critique.

Yes, definitely. When we started working on that issue, the topic of the Palestinian wall was very much in the news. It was also around the time Trump got elected. All of that had an influence.

I see. The next issue is The Stitch, right? Like The Wall, it feels like “stitch” isn’t just an object—it reads more like a metaphor.

Yes, “stitch” is also an action—an act of mending. To be honest, we discussed this theme quite a lot. Same with The Letter. Letters are not exactly objects.

True—it seems like a bit of a departure from your original concept when you started the magazine.

Yes, but in the end we thought, “Well, we want to do it, so let’s do it.” If you think of a letter as a physical piece of mail, it’s still a tangible object. And it’s the same with stitching.

It opens up a whole field of associations. “What is a stitch—an object? A method?” The theme really invites you to think.

What helps us focus the research is always the three sub-themes. For The Stitch, we quickly settled on “to connect,” “to unravel,” and “to repair.” From there, we start exploring all kinds of disciplines. In architecture, for instance, stitches are crucial—they can even define a space or become part of the environment itself.

And when is the issue coming out?

September. We want to give our contributors enough time—and summer’s in the middle, after all.

It sounds like the next issue will have a very different and perhaps more playful tone compared to The Wallissue.

Yes, The Wall was a heavy issue. It was also a heavy time, socially. Walls shut people out, they divide—it was emotionally intense. It felt inevitable for us to make that issue. But with this next one, we wanted it to be something a little more hopeful. Stitches are about bringing things together.

That makes me look forward to it even more! It’s so nice to hear that your emotions at the time influence the themes and articles.

We truly love making this magazine. Each issue feels like one of our children. After ten years, they’ve all become a bit like teenagers. Turning into a difficult teenager like humans! (laughs)

I guess that kind of evolution is also what makes the process fulfilling?

Looking back on the past ten years, I think the first five or so were focused on unpacking the definition of design. But after we started working on projects in China, things became more critically engaged. We always had a critical mindset, but I think we began to focus more on how design relates to the outside world. It wasn’t an overnight shift—more of a gradual evolution.

So you’ve felt a transformation.

Yes. We’ve changed ourselves, and the magazine has changed with us. The world has changed, too. The role of design has shifted. Questions around what design is, how objects are made, and the geopolitics behind them—those conversations have become more and more common.

It’s as if MacGuffin anticipated the world we’re living in now.

When we started this magazine ten years ago, we set out to challenge the definition of design. If we’ve had even a small influence, that would be meaningful. Lately, even in European design education, I can feel this wave of rethinking what design means. And that gives us a real sense of purpose. It makes us feel like maybe we’re actually reaching out to the world.

More than ever, it seems like you feel the role you play in society.

If we can help people see things from a different perspective, that’s enough. We want to invite people to look at design in its full context—not just in terms of innovation or commercial value.

Well then, let’s wrap up the interview. Thank you for spending so much time with us. What’s next for you here in Fukuoka?

Hmm, I’m thinking of buying some socks for my daughter.

Socks?

Yes, she’s been wanting those trendy TABI socks...

Oh, and this—this is a gift from us.

Wow, what is it?

It’s a hand grenade. Used by the Japanese military at the very end of World War II. At that time, metal was scarce in Japan, so they started producing grenades in local pottery kilns. This one is marked “Kuro-Seto.”

It’s beautiful. What an incredible gift.

Just a small piece from our collection.

It should’ve gone in The Ball issue—this object is perfect. I’ll treasure it.

So after Fukuoka, you're heading to Seoul, right? Carrying your magazine and connecting with people across borders—you really live on a global scale, Kirsten.

Yes, I suppose I do. It’s like a little addiction (laughs). My whole family loves to travel, actually. The first time I came to Japan, I was with my father. He’s passed away now, but I have lovely memories of that trip.

When was that?

Before my accident—around the year 2000, I think. My father was an architect and a huge fan of Tadao Ando. He wanted to see all of Ando’s works. So we traveled all over Japan together, visiting Ando’s buildings.

That’s such a beautiful story to end on. Thank you so much.