The beauty of the AI blur
AI can now create virtual humans that are indistinguishably real. Lately, I’ve noticed an overwhelming number of AI image generators whose sole purpose is to create beautiful faces. This made me curious: “Is there an AI out there devoted to generating ugly faces?” After searching, I discovered there wasn’t a single one. Apparently, even AI has no market for ugly faces—an oddly chilling realization. One of the oldest tricks in the digital book to make a face “attractive” is to blend hundreds of real faces together to find the mathematical average.
For a long time, I found this unsettling. If beauty is just an average, does that mean history’s greatest icons—Cleopatra or Don Juan—were simply… “average”?
Personally, I have lived my life as “Mr. Average.” Throughout my school years, I maintained a level of stealth performance that could rival an F-22 Raptor—I survived without ever standing out. In other words, I exist in a world as far removed from Don Juan as one can get. Therefore, I find it impossible to accept this AI logic. It felt like a mystery that bordered on an insult to human charisma. How can something so rare be based on something so common?
The empty cockpit
I found the answer in a book that saved me from this intellectual abyss: The End of Average by Todd Rose. He describes a famous study of over 4,000 U.S. Air Force pilots. The military wanted to design the perfect cockpit, so they measured every pilot on ten different physical dimensions (height, chest circumference, etc.) to find the “average pilot.”
The result was a shock: Out of 4,000 pilots, not a single one met the average in all ten categories. Some had average arms but long legs; others had average chests but small heads. The “average pilot” was a ghost. By designing for everyone, the Air Force had designed for no one.
The “average” chair is a utopia
This is the resolution to the Cleopatra Paradox. We find “average” faces attractive precisely because they are impossible. In nature, everyone is an outlier—we all have a “knot” or a “quirk.” A perfectly average face is a mathematical utopia, a “crying for the moon” that we almost never see in the real world.
This brings me to one of our most iconic pieces: the KAMUY chair, designed by Naoto Fukasawa.
Fukasawa-san calls it “the most chair-like chair.” At first glance, it is remarkably plain. It doesn’t scream for attention; it doesn’t have eccentric curves or avant-garde gimmicks. In the language of my research, KAMUY is the “Average Chair.” But don’t be fooled—calling it “average” is the highest form of flattery. Just as a perfectly average face is a rare, magnetic icon like Cleopatra, a perfectly “average” chair is a masterpiece of balance that is almost impossible to achieve. It is the chair of our fantasies—the one that fits the soul precisely because it embodies the “ideal” we are all searching for.
If the KAMUY is the “ideal average,” our “Hatsune Miku Art Chair” is the “ideal outlier.” Both chairs chase a fantasy. While the KAMUY seeks the perfect balance of a mathematical ghost, the Miku chair embraces the bold, unique identity of a digital icon. One is the “Cleopatra” of chairs—calm, balanced, and timeless. The other is a celebration of the unique “knots” of modern culture. Whether you seek the quiet beauty of the “average” or the vibrant soul of the “exceptional,” we have a seat that turns a fantasy into a place you can finally sit down.
Shungo Ijima
He is travelling around the world. His passion is to explain Japan to the world, from the unique viewpoint accumulated through his career: overseas posting, MBA holder, former official of the Ministry of Finance.