In Minori Murata’s latest work made in Superstudio, a hyper-colored ant twitches across the screen—glitchy, surreal, and brimming with attitude. It’s a portal into her signature style: weirdly alive, boldly digital.
Minori is a London-based Japanese visual artist, art director, and activist who merges organic textures with digital trickery. Her work is full of paradox—lush yet synthetic, sometimes theatrical yet intimate. Using CGI as her primary tool, she brings a painter’s eye to the screen, mimicking classical depth while cranking up color, contrast, and form. But it’s not just flash. Her visuals often carry environmental reflections, using tech as a vessel for organic storytelling.
From commissions for Louis Vuitton and Apple, to her own art x activism project Hyperfreewater, Minori tends to speak through her visuals. Her recent Superstudio animation—a vibrant, morphing AI ant—is no exception: it’s quietly digital, AI-powered, and rooted in care for the planet.
Writer and curator Benoit Palop asked Minori a few questions about her process, thoughts on AI, and approach to environmental advocacy.
Your work brings together nature and digital elements in ways that feel both organic and surreal. What draws you to these paradoxes? Do you see them as a reflection of the environment around you?
Absolutely. Whether it’s natural or digital, I believe everything is connected and constantly influencing one another. I’m really into contradictions. Like how both powerful medicine and deadly poison can come from nature. I guess I have this romantic idea that the essence of things often lies in opposing forces.
“Whether it’s natural or digital, I believe everything is connected and constantly influencing one another. I’m really into contradictions.”
You’ve engaged in various projects, ranging from brand visuals and advertisements to your own tech-environmental initiative, Hyperfreewater. How do these diverse endeavors influence one another, and do you approach each of them differently?
I try to keep the core concept consistent and shift the medium depending on the outcome I’m aiming for.
A key theme in my work is using ants as a metaphor for humans. I explore how we exist within systems like urban economies, especially as climate change becomes more urgent. Ultimately, it’s a way of asking how we move forward—together—as humans.
“A key theme in my work is using ants as a metaphor for humans…for this project, I created an animation of my signature rainbow ants turning into liquid. ”
Your art often reimagines reality—through AR, digital dreamscapes, and even theatrical conceptual projects. What’s your creative process like when building these immersive visual worlds?
I often use tangible, real-world objects as metaphors in my work. I’m especially interested in motifs and visuals that carry symbolic weight or stand in contrast to each other. From there, I imagine the setting, relationships, and narratives that can emerge between them. In the end it’s like building a world from opposing elements.
“I’m especially interested in motifs and visuals that carry symbolic weight or stand in contrast to each other. ”
As a Japanese artist working in digital environments, how does your cultural heritage shape your view of technology in art? Are there traditional aesthetics or philosophies that resonate with, or even challenge, the digital tools you use today, like AI?
I grew up drawing on a Mac, playing games, and spending hours with Nintendo so using digital tools has always felt like a form of play to me. I’m part of the generation that grew up with Studio Ghibli and Pokémon, huge cultural icons in Japan. Because of that, and incidents like the Tokyo Olympic logo plagiarism scandal, I’ve become quite sensitive to issues around copyright and originality.
As a Japanese artist, I feel a natural affinity with digital media. It just feels intuitive. At the same time, I see technology as simply a form of information and I don’t believe in becoming too dependent on it.
After having worked with multiple digital mediums, how did working with Superstudio shift your usual process? Did it change the way you think about your art?
The model I created was quite complex, so unfortunately, I couldn’t get the AI to learn it and animate it smoothly. It struggled not only with reading the individual parts but also with capturing the rhythm and flow that make an animation feel satisfying.
For this project, I created an animation of my signature rainbow ants turning into liquid. That worked well, and it made me realize that AI might be better suited for abstract transformations—things that don’t require precise logic but can still convey feeling or movement.
How do you blend the unpredictable nature of AI with your more tried-and-true digital techniques?
As someone with a pretty distinctive style already, I still find it tricky to fully integrate AI into my process. However, I think AI is great for creating abstract visuals or images that don’t need much explanation.
I see AI as a kind of collective server and a reflection of shared cultural memory on the internet.
Because of that, I’d like to use it in ways that are unpredictable and emotional, almost like triggering memories rather than producing polished results.
“I see AI as a kind of collective server and a reflection of shared cultural memory on the internet.”
As someone navigating both environmental advocacy and digital culture, how do you view the rapid acceleration of technological tools? Do they open new possibilities for creative resistance and environmental justice, or do they introduce new complexities and challenges?
I think there’s always a level of complexity. The environmental cost of mining and digital production is definitely a big concern. But whether digital or physical, it’s nearly impossible for artists to create without leaving an environmental trace. At the same time, I don’t think it’s realistic or right to stop creative expression altogether.
We are definitely heading into a more complex world with digital technology, but I see hope in the way the internet and blockchain can decentralize access to information and value. If we can use these tools to build creative resistance against capitalism or imperialist structures with minimal consumption, I don’t see that as a problem. In fact, it might be one of the few ways forward.
