OJI OSAMU

LEGENDARY INTERVIEW

Design Legends ("DL") had the distinct honour to interview legendary designer OJI OSAMU ("OO") for their original perspective and innovative approach to design as well as their creative lifestyle, we are very pleased to share our interview with our distinguished readers.

DL: Could you please tell us a bit about your design background and education?

OO : I come from a hybrid background that blends engineering rigour with a deep fascination for human-centred design. After graduating, I spent several years as a system engineer for large-scale manufacturing and public-sector IT projects. That experience taught me how critical well-designed digital tools are for frontline workers—and how often traditional design processes overlook their real-world constraints. In 2008 I founded my first software-development studio with seven colleagues who shared the same belief that technology should remove, not create, barriers. We delivered enterprise systems ranging from SCADA dashboards to real-time disaster-response platforms, always pushing for cleaner interfaces and more empathetic user flows. Smart-glasses technology became my “aha” moment in 2013. Seeing the potential of XR to democratise knowledge transfer, I pivoted our R&D toward immersive UI/UX. That work culminated in 2024 when I launched USEYA ADVANCED INDUSTRY (UAI)—a digital share-workshop that fuses XR, AI and cloud robotics so anyone, anywhere can participate in high-quality manufacturing. Along the way I’ve been fortunate to receive recognition such as the iF Design Award, the DX Innovation Grand Prize, and now the A’ Design Award Professional Edition. Yet the most meaningful validation comes from artisans, students and engineers who tell me our interfaces made their work easier, safer and more inclusive. My design philosophy remains rooted in continuous learning: I still prototype personally, mentor young designers, and collaborate with academia on research into spatial computing ergonomics. Whether I’m sketching a mixed-reality workflow or shaping corporate strategy, the goal is the same—create experiences that expand human capability and spark joy in making.

DL: What motivates you to design in general, why did you become a designer?

OO : I realised that engineering solves technical problems, but design solves human ones—and the latter is where real impact lives. What motivates me today is the same spark, scaled up: removing barriers so that anyone—regardless of location, disability, or resources—can participate in high-quality making. Japan has a deep craft heritage, yet I kept meeting artisans whose skills were locked inside a single workshop and workers who were excluded because of geography or physical constraints. When I discovered smart-glasses in 2013, I suddenly saw a canvas big enough to bridge those gaps; XR could project a master craftsperson’s hands onto an apprentice’s field of view, or bring an entire manufacturing line to a remote expert in real time. I became a designer because I believe tools shape possibility. A beautifully engineered backend is useless if its interface intimidates the very people it’s meant to empower. By designing spatial, intuitive, almost “invisible” interfaces, I can turn advanced tech into a welcoming doorway instead of a locked gate. My deepest motivation comes from watching that doorway open. I once saw a wheelchair-bound hobbyist assemble a drone using our XR workflow; the smile on his face reminded me that design is ultimately about dignity and agency. Awards like the iF Design Award or the A’ Design Award are humbling affirmations, but the real fuel is witnessing how a well-designed experience can expand someone’s world—and, in turn, inspire them to create something new. In short, I design because every thoughtfully crafted interface is an invitation: Come in, experiment, build, belong. That invitation is what keeps me sketching, prototyping, and refining long after the first version “works.”

DL: Did you choose to become a designer, or you were forced to become one?

OO : I definitely chose this path—although it sometimes feels like design chose me. in fact, my formal training was in information-systems engineering, and my early career rewarded brute technical efficiency more than aesthetics. Yet every project pulled me toward the human side of the equation: I kept volunteering to redraw awkward workflows, rewrite button labels, or prototype physical controls so operators could work with less stress. Over time I realised those “extra” tasks were not side quests but the work that lit me up. So I pivoted—first unofficially by championing UX inside engineering teams, then formally by founding a studio where design and technology share equal weight. It was a deliberate decision, driven by the conviction that technology only fulfils its promise when someone designs how people will actually live with it. If there was any external force, it was the frustration I felt watching great ideas stumble on poor interfaces. That tension compelled me to act, but no boss or market trend forced me to call myself a designer. I embraced the title because it best describes what I love doing: translating complex systems into experiences that feel simple, empowering, and—even in an industrial context—a little bit magical.

DL: What do you design, what type of designs do you wish to design more of?

OO : My practice sits at the crossroads of immersive UI/UX, spatial computing, and digital-manufacturing systems. On a typical week I might be: mapping a gesture-based interface for Apple Vision Pro, refining a holographic dashboard that lets a remote engineer “reach into” a CNC mill, or choreographing AI-driven hand-tracking so a trainee can overlay a master craftsperson’s movements on their own hands in real time. In other words, I design tools that dissolve distance and complexity—so knowledge, not geography or physical ability, becomes the limiting factor. The output ranges from smart-glasses apps and mixed-reality workstations to cloud back-ends that synchronise robots, cameras, and AI models. Hardware, software, and human factors are all on the drawing board at once; the real design object is the experience that binds them. Looking ahead, I’m eager to design systems that scale inclusion even further: Low-friction XR kits that a rural school or small factory can deploy in hours, not weeks. “Invisible” interfaces that rely on gaze, voice, and subtle haptics, freeing users from screens and controllers. Circular-economy fabrication flows where XR guides workers through repair and reuse, not just new production. Cultural-heritage portals that capture artisans’ full-body techniques—beyond the hands—to preserve endangered crafts in volumetric detail. Ultimately, I want every person with curiosity—whether a wheelchair-bound hobbyist, an overseas apprentice, or a retiree returning to craft—to step into a workspace that feels tailored to them. Designing more of those experiences is my north star, because when technology becomes empathetic, creativity multiplies and industries evolve.