Not Choosing,
but Letting It Remain

Kan Izumi’s atelier Hai, which he built on Awaji Island, carries a quiet sense of tension. We spoke with him about the background of the scents born in that space.

Shunsuke Kato (Kato)：The space of Hai really has a kind of tension, doesn’t it? Rather than being cozy, there’s a certain sense of order that's maintained, and it naturally makes you feel more composed, like you straighten up without realizing. It was designed by Teruhiro Yanagihara, right?

Kan Izumi (Izumi)： That’s right. This space is like a device that strips away all information so I can focus solely on scent. The floors and walls are all made of earth, and it’s the kind of place that naturally turns your awareness inward. You unconsciously find yourself unable to leave a plastic bottle around or lie down—it holds that kind of tension. You simply can’t place anything meaningless here. It even feels like your movements start to align themselves.

When I spread out materials in this space, the necessary things and unnecessary things naturally rise to the surface. It’s not so much that I’m choosing—they're what remains. I feel that scent, too, is not about adding things, but about removing what’s extra until the outline becomes clear.

When creating something meaningful, you really need that level of focus. The strength of a space has a huge influence on the creative process. You place yourself in that space and turn inward. For that, to some extent, you have to shut off your relationship with the outside.

Kato: So it’s a state where you reduce contact with others as much as possible and immerse yourself fully in your own senses and space.

Izumi: Exactly. It’s hard to create scent while talking with someone, or in a lively environment. If I’m not centered myself, I lose track of what I’m feeling or what I want to express. That’s why having a space like this is so important to me.

The reason I moved my production base to Awaji Island was that I originally visited here for fragrance research. Awaji is known as a production center for incense, and it’s said to be the place where fragrant wood first drifted ashore in Japan—it’s considered the origin of Japanese fragrance culture. I naturally felt drawn to face scent-making in a place like that.

Also, the diversity of plants here is really appealing. As I researched, I found that the island lies right on the boundary where the northern and southern limits of plant life intersect—it’s the kind of place where plants from all over Japan can grow. I actually use plants grown in my own field to make fragrance ingredients, and in that sense too, there are very few places as suited to scent-making as this land.

Also, the diversity of plants here is really appealing. As I researched, I found that the island lies right on the boundary where the northern and southern limits of plant life intersect—it’s the kind of place where plants from all over Japan can grow. I actually use plants grown in my own field to make fragrance ingredients, and in that sense too, there are very few places as suited to scent-making as this land.

Where you spend your time becomes part of your being. I believe that creation is naturally influenced by the land and air you're surrounded by, gradually shaping the contour of the scent.

Translating Sensation

Kato: When we create together, what strikes me about your scents is how finely tuned they are to the space or the person involved. There’s absolutely no sense that you’re following a fixed method.

Izumi: Every time I create a scent, I start from zero. I never use past formulas, and I deliberately avoid having a fixed “style.” Some perfumers use the same specific ingredient every time to express their individuality, but I don’t do that. I want to approach each person or space in a completely fresh state.

It’s like becoming an actor—I try to fully embody the space or the subject. Not only people, but brands, places; sometimes I even take on the perspective of an architect, an employee, or someone visiting the space. When I encounter something symbolic, even if it’s just a carpet, I try to become that object and explore sensation from its point of view. What kind of food would exist in that space? What rhythm does time flow in? The sounds, the light, the words, the history—I absorb all of it through my senses. How to convert those sensations into scent—that process might be the core of my approach to making fragrance

Kato: Trying to bring forth a sensation that’s difficult to put into words, using scent. It’s such a delicate act, and it feels like a series of intuitive judgments layered on top of each other.

Izumi: I think it’s a very synesthetic process. For instance, when I think about how to express “quietness” through scent, I obviously can’t reproduce sound itself. But if a fragrance helps your breathing fall into rhythm, maybe that can convey the sensation of silence. Scent is, in a way, a synthesis of multiple senses—it’s a process of translating sight, sound, temperature, and humidity into olfaction.

That’s why I never choose ingredients just because I like them. What’s more important is deciding what not to include, what to pare away. If there’s even one false note in a fragrance, it immediately stands out. To prevent that, I aim for a state where every element exists for a reason.

Designing a Scent That Returns to Zero

Sensing Life Through Fragrance

Kato: I remember being struck by how quickly you responded when I first shared QUANTUM’s concept with you.

Izumi: For me, “shishū” (the scent of death) is something I’ve explored as a subject of inquiry. Through scent, I’ve been continually asking how we might reclaim a sense of being alive. It’s often said that compared to animals, the human sense of smell has deteriorated—but that’s precisely why I feel there’s meaning in using scent.

Take, for instance, the sensation of being alive—like your heart beating, or your breath moving in and out. These are bodily sensations we rarely pay attention to in everyday life. But when we fall ill, have an accident, or find ourselves in extreme situations, that awareness of being alive suddenly returns. It’s in those very moments, I think, that our senses become most heightened. I hope to create experiences that allow people to encounter that kind of raw, living sensation through scent.

Rather than directly portraying “death,” it’s more about how the awareness of death can, in turn, deepen our contact with life. The sensation of the body we come to re-examine on the edge of death, the undeniable feeling that we are alive—I wanted to create a fragrance that quietly emerges in such moments. That intention naturally aligned with the scent-making process for QUANTUM. The concepts of “prayer” and “facing inward” seemed to quietly intersect with my ongoing exploration of shishū.

It’s not about dealing with death per se, but rather about how carefully we can become aware of the fact that we are alive—right now. I felt that if I could approach the fragrance from that perspective, then the shape of the QUANTUM project would also start to come into view. And as I thought that through, the keyword “zero” suddenly came to me.

Kato: The scent of NO.00 really gives a sense of leveling out—it feels like everything gently falls into place.

Izumi: Yes, exactly. Human beings are made up mostly of water, right? I thought it might be interesting to blur the boundary between water and air—what would that feel like as a scent?

As I mentioned earlier, I don’t begin by thinking about which ingredients might match. First, I narrow things down to three key elements, held in as flat and neutral a state as possible. For NO.00, the three elements that surfaced were: freshness, life, and prayer.

From there, I finally turn to the materials. I chose juniper berry to express that sense of freshness and clarity. For the element of prayer, just a small addition of Japanese umbrella-pine (kōyamaki) creates a silence, as if sound has disappeared. Elemi proved to be a great match for the structure of the scent—it has a presence that conveys life. I also deliberately used a few synthetic ingredients, to pare away the unnecessary elements within the juniper berry and draw out its freshness even more clearly.

Time and Memory Engraved with Scent

Kato: I think scent has tremendous power. It can be overwhelming, or it can gently accompany someone. Especially when dealing with invisible acts like “mourning” or “prayer,” as with QUANTUM, I really feel that scent is an essential element. There’s a sense that fragrance can gently stay close to emotions that are too difficult to express in words.。

Also, even though it’s said that the human sense of smell is gradually deteriorating, scent is still deeply connected to memory and recollection. For example, when you visit someone’s old home, and a single smell suddenly brings back a flood of memories—things like that have a truly powerful force. In that sense too, I’m very curious to see how this fragrance, No.00, will become imprinted in people’s memories going forward.

Izumi: Scent can leave a completely different impression depending on what kinds of experiences someone has had. For instance, something like lavender, which has a clearly recognizable ingredient, tends to carry a shared image. But with a fragrance like No.00, which is highly abstract and composed of many elements, the complexity of its structure means that people’s perceptions will differ greatly. But precisely because of that, it forms deeper connections with memory.

QUANTUM is still in its early stages, but even now, there may already be people whose memories have resurfaced through this fragrance. Even if someone thinks, “This feels nostalgic,” or “It reminds me of something I smelled long ago,” that’s their own personal memory—something we can’t control. It’s a realm full of individual differences. But as the act of mourning through this fragrance is repeated, the act itself will begin to intertwine with the scent.

And surely, one day, someone will encounter a similar scent in a completely different place, and be brought back to the time they spent with No.00—the time they spent facing themselves, or the moment they were remembering someone who had passed. Those memories will differ completely from person to person, and we have no way of knowing what kind of emotions they might stir. But that, to me, is the most fascinating part.

QUANTUM is a brand that continues to engage with the act of mourning. And alongside that act, memory will grow with the fragrance. That’s why I myself am really looking forward to the moment when No.00 begins to hold meaning within someone, over time.