Starting a Business as a Couple

As a child, I wanted to be an artist. I just wanted to do things that I loved. Growing up, both of my parents worked, so my younger sister and I often spent time alone. I always felt that it would be a bit lonely if my husband and I worked separately and came home to each other only after a long day. So, ever since I was a student, I had a vague dream of running an architecture firm together with my future husband. Eventually, we moved back here, and that’s exactly what we were able to do.

We’ve been going with the flow, really. We’ve mostly focused on how to make work fun and interesting, rather than planning out exactly where we want to go. Even with small jobs that didn’t necessarily bring in much money, we approached them seriously, and if they turned out to be interesting, that was enough for us. But after we had our son, we started to think more seriously about how to sustain this lifestyle. When we decided to build our own home, we also began to consider finances more practically—thinking about how to recoup the investment we put in.

At first, we didn’t have much experience, not even with small projects like new builds or renovations. Gradually, acquaintances started bringing us projects, like new builds or condominium renovations. It was only in the past two or three years that we started feeling like a legitimate architecture firm. We've even been able to hire staff, and since working on private projects alone wasn’t enough, we began challenging ourselves with public architecture proposals. It feels like we took another step forward last year.

The House We Built

In the mornings, I take care of the garden, tending to it and harvesting the vegetables we've grown. Sometimes I do this with my son, though for him, it’s more like playing in a sandbox—he just runs around and plays nearby. I have to remind him not to step on the plants. He’s not quite a helping hand yet.

It’s simply delightful when we see something growing. There’s something very satisfying about feeling the soil beneath your feet. I also love that our hobbies have become part of our daily life; it feels efficient in a way.

Our workday usually starts around 9 AM after we send our son off and ends by 5 PM when we pick him up. Then, it’s time to prepare dinner. My happiest moments are often right before bed—talking with my son about how the day went, about how fun it was. Or, when my son comes home after being away for a while and I think, "Wow, he’s so adorable."

The Competing in Tokyo

When I was working in Tokyo, I was employed at a small architecture firm. I worked hard from morning to night, feeling both a sense of accomplishment and frustration by the weekend. But the exhaustion would accumulate to the point where a single Sunday off wasn’t enough to recover.

While I learned a lot, I also started questioning whether certain traditions and customs at the workplace made sense. I felt like I was being swept along without knowing if it was truly the right thing. The pace was so fast that I didn’t have time to sharpen my own values. It was overwhelming, and I realized I couldn’t keep that up forever.

Tokyo has its own charm, of course. I do miss the cultural experiences there while living in Hokkaido. For example, large-scale exhibitions rarely make their way up here, even though we now have international art festivals and cultural exchange centers in Sapporo. It still can’t compare to Tokyo in terms of cultural and artistic events. There’s also less diversity here. So, a few times a year, I make it a point to visit Tokyo for both work and leisure, to stay connected with the latest information and maintain my network of friends.

Coexisting with Nature

I feel a certain spaciousness in Hokkaido—it’s like everyone has more room to breathe, both literally and figuratively. Personal space is wider here, and there’s a sense that we can just figure things out and survive. Though, of course, in winter, if you don’t have a warm house, you’d freeze!

For example, even if food runs out, there’s always someone nearby who might give you some potatoes, or you can grow your own. It feels like anyone could make it here. In Sapporo, people seem so resilient, almost like animals (laughs). They enjoy nature, know the names of trees, and are busy with seasonal activities like making syrups from wildflowers at just the right time. I often wonder where people learn all this knowledge—it feels like wisdom passed down through the generations.

There’s a sensitivity to the seasons here that I really love. Because spring, summer, and autumn are so short, people try to pack as much into them as possible. I love that sense of urgency. At the same time, sometimes I look at it all with a bit of detachment, wondering, “Why do people love Sapporo so much? Why do they go to such lengths to live here?” Including myself, of course.

The Suburbs of Sapporo

Many of our friends have moved back to Sapporo from other places, and some have even relocated to more rural areas afterward. I can understand that choice, but for me, Sapporo feels like the perfect fit. I love nature, but I don’t want to give up convenience. I want to keep the flexibility to move easily between both worlds within a single day. That’s why I think the suburbs of Sapporo are just right for me.

The place where we live now is a bit inconvenient by Sapporo standards, but I’d like to create a space here where people can gather. There’s a 100-year-old horse stable next door that we plan to renovate, so it’ll be easier to invite people over. We’re also planning to create a space where guests can stay overnight—maybe even turn it into a guest house. I’m exploring ways to expand our current lifestyle, thinking about how we can make it even more fulfilling.