Layla Yamamoto
Layla’s work reinterprets anime and manga imagery through feminist, queer, and postcolonial lenses, examining how shōjo (girl) culture in Japan has historically been shaped by patriarchy and nationalism, while also reclaiming that same imagery as a symbol of defiance against those norms.
Having studied at School of the Art Institute of Chicago and now based in Tokyo, she also curates exhibitions. With a contemporary artist and also manga artist Marina Lisa Komiya, she runs ‘Beyond Flat’, a project reexamining anime and manga representation through exhibitions, symposiums, and zines.
S: So, to begin: what motivates your work? More specifically, what emotions drive it, and do you think those emotions are sustainable over time?
Layla: My practice is divided into several bodies of work. One focuses on feminism, approaching Japanese society from feminist perspectives. Another examines Japan's attitudes toward nuclear power following the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. My mother's family is from Hiroshima, and some of my relatives are atomic bomb survivors, so that's a deeply personal subject for me. My feminist work, in particular, comes from a great deal of anger and frustration. Those feelings became much stronger after I returned to Japan from Chicago, where I studied fine art at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.
The art community in Chicago was incredibly feminist, queer-friendly, and welcoming. Returning to Japan, I immediately encountered much more entrenched sexism. It was a huge contrast. I also realized how much girls' culture in Japan is looked down upon compared to media aimed at men. Things like hentai and male-oriented manga/anime are treated as mainstream, while shōjo manga or Boys' Love are often dismissed.
S: I have two follow-up questions. First, what's your opinion of Chizuko Ueno and her writing on feminism? Secondly, do you ever feel feminist discussions become too binary—reduced to simply men versus women?
Layla: Yes, I do think that happens. Chizuko Ueno is hugely influential in Japan, and probably across East Asia as well, though her opinions often exclude sex workers, which to me is questionable. We shouldn't ignore her achievements because she's opened up many important conversations. At the same time, I think we also need to pay attention to other feminist and queer thinkers in Japan. Sometimes it feels as though she's the only feminist voice people know, and that's limiting.
S: That makes sense. From my perspective, your work carries a lot of anger about injustice. I'm curious whether constantly working from that emotional place becomes exhausting. Do you ever get tired of being angry?
Layla: Yes, I do. There are still so many unresolved issues around gender in Japanese society, and our politicians honestly aren't doing enough. Every time I read the news, I feel angry about what's happening. It's exhausting. But at the same time, that anger reminds me why I make art. It tells me that I want things to change. Without that feeling, I probably wouldn't have the motivation to keep working. So although anger is exhausting, it's also incredibly creative for me.
S: I completely understand. For me, I often feel conflicted between using art as activism and using it as escapism. I grew up immersed in otaku culture, and there's still part of me that wants to become this cute anime girl while also identifying as a feminist. Do you ever experience that tension?
Layla: Not really. If I wanted to create something for escaping reality, there are many other ways to do that in Japan. I don't need to make art for that purpose. For me, making art is about bringing what's in my heart into the public sphere. It's the way I express my political opinions and communicate with other people. Anime and manga can simply be something I enjoy privately. I also don't see myself as someone who should compete with professional manga artists or illustrators. They have incredible technical skills, which I deeply admire. I was trained in fine art, both in Japan and in the United States, so contemporary art is simply the language that's most natural for me.
S: This brings me to another question: do you think it's possible to be an "innocent feminist"? Although maybe I should ask first—how would you define innocence? I think ideas of innocence differ quite a bit between East and West.
Layla: I'm not sure there really is such a thing as an ‘innocent feminist’. People are always trying to define who's a ‘real feminist’ and who isn't. I've even had people online criticize me because I studied in the West. They've assumed I come from a wealthy happy family and therefore don't understand issues like women's poverty in Japan. That assumption isn't true. But I do consider myself to have cultural privilege, and I want to give back to society. So I don't think those kinds of arguments that justdivide people are productive. If someone genuinely wants and acts to reduce gender inequality and create an inclusive society, then I think it's fair to call them a feminist. We shouldn't spend so much time policing who qualifies.
S: I also wanted to ask about your relationship with anime. Would you describe yourself as an otaku?
Layla: Yes—both an artist and an otaku.
S: Same. How do you feel about the global popularity of shōjo manga? Personally, I think many of those stories still contain deeply patriarchal ideas, but because they're associated with Japanese culture, people often overlook those aspects.
Layla: I think that's true. I think shōjo manga and anime have contradictory characteristics: they empower readers and audiences through feminist and queer themes, while some stories simultaneously reinforce a dualistic romantic love ideology.
Asian societies and Western societies have different historical contexts of patriarchy. Western patriarchy is often connected to Christianity, whereas ours developed through different historical and philosophical traditions, many of which came from China’s Confucianism and were localized in Japan. Because of those differences, Asian audiences can often recognize patriarchal structures that Western audiences might miss. That's why I think we need more feminist and queer manga and anime, especially works aimed at adult audiences that challenge those norms rather than reproducing them. That's something I really hope to see in the future of the manga and anime industry.
S: I hope so too. I also wish people paid more attention to the broader social history surrounding Japanese popular culture.
Layla: Exactly. After World War II, during the American occupation, Japan's constitution changed completely. Before that, women had far fewer rights and were treated as subordinate to men. Although constitutional equality was enshrined after the war, many patriarchal customs still remain today. Interestingly, women entered the manga industry in much larger numbers after the war and began creating works specifically for female audiences. Contemporary art in Japan never really experienced an equivalent movement centered on women. I wish more people paid attention to that history instead of focusing only on stereotypical or overly sexualized images of Japanese culture.
Layla: Yeah. I actually experienced censorship recently.
S: Really?
Layla: It's interesting because whenever I talk about censorship, people here immediately assume it's about China. I haven't even had an exhibition in China yet, but people automatically associate censorship with China’s art world. My concern is that censorship does, in fact, exist within the Japanese art world. What we experience here is more like self-censorship.
I sometimes curate feminist shows because we don't have many feminist curators in Japan. I was curating an exhibition that was supposed to open in May this year, and the gallery suddenly started saying that feminist art is difficult to sell to collectors. They wanted me to include artworks that were more commercially appealing without feminist or queer themes. They also told me that if they couldn't sell enough works, they wouldn't support the exhibition financially—they would cut funding for installation, transportation, and other costs. Then they actually censored words like ‘feminist’, ‘queer’, and ‘postcolonial’ from the press release.
S: They removed those terms from the exhibition text?
Layla: Yes. They erased all of those terms. The co-organizer for the show and I asked why. They said Japanese audiences wouldn't understand concepts like feminism or queer theory, and they even claimed those words were difficult to translate into Japanese—which is ironic because those terms originally came from English. The entire exhibition was built around those ideas. We had feminist and queer artists from various countries specifically because of the central concept. I told the gallery that removing those ideas from the press release completely undermined the exhibition, but they insisted.
S: So what did you do?
Layla: The co-organizer and I decided to cancel the exhibition and started looking for another gallery instead.
This happens quite often. Japanese galleries often want my paintings because they're visually attractive, but they don't want me speaking publicly about feminism. Some galleries have even told me that if I continue speaking openly about women's issues in Japan on social media, it could negatively affect their reputation and business. They want me to stay silent, and honestly, it's exhausting.
S: I'm curious why that is. In China, censorship extends beyond art into pornography and many other areas. But Japan has a very visible pornographic culture and representations of male desire everywhere. Why is feminist expression treated so differently? Is it rooted in Japanese sexism, or is there also a fear of confrontation?
Layla: Japanese society is still very sexist. Even though we have legal equality, men continue to hold most positions of power. Feminists and queer people remain marginalized. Many queer people still don't feel safe being open about their identities.
Women are often expected to be submissive and follow patriarchal customs. Those expectations are deeply normalized. Sometimes I wonder why society accepts this so easily. I really don't understand it. In Japan much of censorship comes from individuals and institutions making cautious decisions themselves. They're afraid of public criticism or controversy.
There are cases where government influence affects public museums in Japan, especially regarding political contents, but commercial galleries usually censor themselves rather than being directly ordered to do so.
S: What's your opinion on shunga and the historical display of desire in Japanese art?
Layla: I think shunga became so popular in the West because it's still viewed through an Orientalist gaze. Japan happened to produce art that fit Western fantasies about Asia, so it became celebrated as high art. At the same time, other aspects of Japanese culture—like the image of the geisha—became romanticized, despite involving histories of exploitation of child-labor that would likely be condemned if they occurred in Western contexts. Because these practices are considered ‘traditional’ or ‘cultural’, people often overlook the problematic aspects. I think Orientalism still shapes how these works are received.
S: Do you ever feel conflicted about Japanese tradition? The West often exoticizes Japan while simultaneously wanting to preserve its traditions. Do you ever feel caught between performing for a Western audience and representing Japan?
Layla: Yes, absolutely. I don't want to become someone who simply presents an image of Japan that satisfies Western expectations with an Orientalist gaze. That's something I really want to avoid. To resist that, I think it's important to understand how the Western gaze has been historically constructed, and also to critically examine Japanese history itself. That critical perspective is central to my work.
S: I really relate to that. I often feel caught between cultures too. People assumed I was "white inside" because I had lived abroad. Balancing those identities can be difficult.
Layla: I actually looked at your work as well, and I found it really interesting.
S: Thank you! My research focuses on sexism in Japanese media, especially hentai and fictional pornography. I'm interested in how those representations shape ideas of female desire and performance.
Layla: Yes, that became especially significant during the late 1980s. Earlier manga was very different, but many male creators began adapting elements of Western pornography while replacing Western faces with Japanese young girl characters. That's one of the developments I think is really important to criticize. There are still very few regulations in Japan regarding these kinds of representations. sexual imagery of young girls (often minor), for example, became increasingly normalized through male-otaku culture during the 1980s and 1990s. Later, genres like Galgames became hugely popular as well. Around the same period, Japanese art with male-centered anime/manga representation also began to be introduced to Western audiences. These developments all overlap historically.