Meet the Maker Hammering Sheets of Metal into Nature-Inspired Vessels
From his studio in the U.K., Japanese artisan Shinta Nakajima crafts fluid forms that evoke movement, energy, and nature
For metalsmith Shinta Nakajima, each piece begins with a flat sheet of silver, copper, or brass that he shapes through a repetitive process that many might consider extreme: Three hammer strikes per second, 15,000 an hour, with more than 100 hours to complete a single work. “Hammering is the conversation with the material,” he explains. “I don’t design every detail. I start making, and the metal responds.”
The Tokyo native originally planned to become an industrial or automotive designer before a three-week metalworking course at Musashino Art University changed his path. It was there he discovered hand-raising, the centuries-old technique of shaping a vessel from a single sheet of metal, and studied under the renowned Japanese silversmith Hiroshi Suzuki.
Suzuki, known for creating fluid forms that bring a surprising lightness to a hard material, had recently returned to Japan after 15 years in the U.K. (where he is represented by Adrian Sassoon). He exposed students to a more contemporary approach to the craft at a time when much Japanese silversmithing remained centered around traditional forms associated with tea ceremonies and other ritual objects. “He was edgy and different and really fresh compared with the others,” recalls Nakajima.
After graduating, Nakajima spent five years assisting Suzuki before relocating to England in 2018 at age 29. He earned a spot in Sarabande Foundation’s studio program, the creative charity established by Alexander McQueen to support emerging artists through subsidized studios and mentorship. It was there that representatives from Gallery Fumi first discovered his work; they still represent him.
For some, gaining representation by a prominent gallery at a young age would be enough. But Nakajima came to the U.K. intent on pursuing an MFA in metalwork and jewelry at Sheffield Hallam University (the institution has a long history as a center of Britain’s cutlery and silver industries). The real draw was the teaching style. In Japan, he explains, metalworking often starts with learning how to make the tools themselves. In the U.K., students start by imagining the object they want to make. “I really wanted to develop my conceptual thinking through working in metal, because it is completely opposite from the educational system of Japan,” he says. Here, he built on skills learned from Suzuki, developing his singular style that continues to evolve.
Nakajima crafts surfaces through thousands of precisely placed hammer marks, allowing vessels and abstract sculptural forms to emerge gradually, as if in a state of growth. His Instagram videos show him keeping rhythm while working, tapping his foot as he hammers. The pace, he explains, is very intentional. “I focus on the movement,” he says. “The core of most of my work is that movement from the bottom upwards; a twisted shape with an energetic feeling.”
Nature has always influenced his art. His mother was a floral designer who taught flower-pressing classes, and Nakajima mused that “maybe that is why pieces of nature are a [way] for me to express something.” His acanthus leaf pieces, introduced in 2023 while pursuing his master’s degree, marked a pivotal moment. “It is a huge milestone for me because it is really unique. But fundamentally what I’m doing is renewing symbolic language.”
In ancient Greek and Roman architecture, the acanthus stood for endurance and renewal; Nakajima aims to bring some of that symbolism back by reworking these motifs in a contemporary way. He does this by combining both British and Japanese metalworking techniques and traditions. “I intended to bridge the two different cultures,” he says of his output, adding, “I think it is really important to mix the two together.”
Looking ahead, he is continuing the acanthus series and working with Gallery Fumi on a large wall piece. He is also developing another symbolic plant motif—an oak leaf—which he sees as a powerful emblem of strength and renewal. And, surprisingly, he’s decided to stay in Sheffield versus returning to a more urban atmosphere. “People are familiar with the sound of hammering here,” he notes. “It’s easier to have a studio.”