Exploring tsu tsu mu: a new exhibition in Tokyo reframes the Japanese way of wrapping anything

Cloak, encase, enfold, envelope, involve, and wrap. All these can be expressed by a single verb in Japanese: tsutsumu. Japanese is a contextual language, where the same word has different meaning or nuance depending on the context. This linguistic ambiguity may stem from the Japanese having an inclusive mindset.

A research into 90 objects embodying the concept of tsutsumu is now the subject of a new exhibition by the Japan Design Committee, titled 'Tsu-tsu-mu' and on view at Matsuya Ginza department store in Tokyo, until 13 October 2025.

What is tsutsumu? From essential wrapping to a universal language of care

Wrap – tsutsumu – a verb we often use to describe enclosing something from outside, is not limited to human action. Within nature, numerous forms of tsutsumu lie hidden. A bird's life is born encased in an eggshell. A banana grows naturally encased in its peel, its ripeness signalled by the changing hue of that peel. Clothing cloaks the wearer in a sense of elation, reassurance, and confidence. There are musical codes that envelop one in a soothing embrace, and music that leaves one unsettled. How did all these forms of tsutsumu, prevalent around us, come to be?

Designers who shape objects and experiences sensed that tsutsumu might arise from the notion of caring for others. ‘When I was a child, I remember my parents and relatives giving me pocket money not in bare hands, but wrapped in paper. Even though wrapping money in paper wasn't necessary for practical purposes, I believe doing so was an expression of thought for recipients, who would hesitate to accept money openly to avoid seeming greedy,’ says designer Yoshiaki Irobe, whose works include art direction for the Japan Pavilion at Osaka Expo 2025.

From this perspective, Irobe started to consider tsutsumu as a universal mindset of care and to explore various examples found in our surroundings. ‘We wanted to examine what role each act of tsutsumu plays, what consideration lies within that act, and explore the potential of tsutsumu to connect the inside and outside, and as a designer, eventually implement tsutsumu as a means to make the world more inclusive and caring,’ he adds. Alongside Irobe, design engineer Kinya Tagawa, product designer Gen Suzuki, and journalist Takahiro Tsuchida explored various forms of 'tsutsumu, care for others' inherent in our surroundings.

Packaging and beyond

For instance, the oblaat – a layer of edible film to make medicine easier to swallow, the wrapping also reducing the repugnance of taking it – is a masterpiece of tsutsumu packaging. Similarly, the foods daifuku mochi and onigiri see the suppliers’ consideration reflected in the form of the food itself. Daifuku mochi is a confection where sweet bean paste, anco, is wrapped in rice cake; it's an ingenious portable food dating to before the Edo period, allowing the sweet bean paste to be held in the hand and eaten directly.

On the other hand, with onigiri, where seaweed wraps rice balls, the food 'becomes tastier not by tightly shaping the rice grains into ball form, but by shaping them softly to allow air between the rice grains', says Irobe. ‘This way of tsutsumu was born from ingenuity to enhance flavour.’

Everyday tsu tsu mu

The notion of tsutsumu is not confined to packaging as we normally think of it – it also underlies the very form of everyday products. Prosthetic limbs call for utmost care towards the user. A prosthetic leg consists of a socket that attaches to the amputated part of the limb, a foot section that contacts the ground, and a supporting section connecting the two. The socket part needs to be designed to ‘tsutsumu’ the individual patient’s amputated part. Bandages, too, are a form of tsutsumu that protects the affected area while also providing a psychological effect of reassurance through the act of covering with cloth.

However, tsutsumu does not necessarily carry only positive connotations. For product designers, it's an act often perceived as something that obscures essence and function. Consequently, many designers view wrapping –not tsutsumu in this context – as something superficial to disguise intrinsic nature. There is a certain belief that design should clearly communicate an object's indispensable quality, allowing it to emerge naturally from within. However, it is not relevant for the mechanisms and internals of appliances to be left exposed.

Naoto Fukasawa, a product designer who has created extensive home appliances, articulates his view: ‘Regarding the design of kitchen appliances, items placed against walls, such as refrigerators and ovens, tend to adopt angular forms to harmonise with (or care for) the surrounding wall environment. On the other hand, electrical appliances that come closer to the human body, like rice cookers and coffee pots, take on rounded forms.’

Kenya Hara, a graphic designer who sits on an advisory board for Muji, cites the company's tag system as his take on tsutsumu. Muji products, whether clothing or other items, lack labels and packaging; the tag tells the entire story of the product. In essence, the tag encapsulates all the information about each item.

‘By contemplating the potential role of tsutsumu, new designs can emerge. Tsutsumu may become a new design language,’ design engineer Kinya Tagawa comments.

‘While excessive packaging faces criticism today, due to environmental concerns, I don't believe a completely exposed state, revealing everything, is always the best approach. By understanding the intentions of tsutsumu, hidden within various forms of enveloping, we hope it becomes an opportunity for each person to develop a sense of care for others,’ says journalist Takahiro Tsuchida.

designcommittee.jp