Scanning the skies for inspiration? Don’t let Japanese mags fly under your radar

Do you have a geographical fix on your happy place? Is it the end of the jetty at your weekend house in northern Maine? Or a quiet stretch of beach north of Comporta? Or perhaps it’s the corner table at the café in your Madrid neighbourhood? I have a few happy places but one of my favourites is about 50 minutes’ flying time north of Nome, Alaska. As most Japan-to-Europe flights fly over the North Pole these days, there’s a certain point where satellite footprints cut out, in-flight wi-fi disconnects and you’re instantly cut off from colleagues, newsfeeds, cloud services and whatever counts for 21st-century humanity. Bliss on a Boeing.

On Thursday, I boarded the LX 161 service from Tokyo Narita to Zürich with my colleague Noriko. For the first 40 minutes after take off I cleared the emails that had landed overnight, then settled into bed mode for a few hours and woke up just as we were crossing the international date line. I typed out a few more emails, read the news from various sources and went back to reviewing some material for upcoming shoots and future issues of Monocle. 

As Alaska passed by below, I started to wrap up my correspondence and within the hour the signal dropped – right on cue. I put my phone and laptop to one side, rustled around the overhead locker, plumped up the pillows, asked for a glass of chasselas and started to dig into the pile of mags that I’d bought in Tokyo over the past few days. When a big part of your job is running a company that produces more than 25 magazines and books a year, there’s a fine line between consuming periodicals for professional intelligence versus pure pleasure. 

Sometimes I open a favourite magazine – I started with a copy of Japanese lifestyle title Premium on this occasion – and get lost in its pages, simply enjoying the pleasure of good photography, cleverly commissioned illustrations and smart layouts. But at other times it only takes a few flips before I’m wondering how we might get a meeting with the advertiser in the opening spread or if we’re connected to the photographer who snapped the food story in Kyoto. 

For the next four hours, I went through copies of Brutus, Popeye, Uomo and assorted special editions before moving onto some European and North American titles, including The Atlantic, The New Yorker, WSJ, Les Echos’ weekend supplement and tattered copies of The New York Times and the Financial Times from earlier in the week. Somewhere along the way I dozed off. When I woke up, I went back to the Japanese titles for a closer study. What do the Japanese do better than publishers in Europe or the US? Here’s my take:

1.
Japanese print quality is a cut far, far above. Photos are sharp, rich and dense. Illustrations have texture and life. Words stand out from the page.

2.
There is a complexity in page layouts and stories we no longer see in most corners of the world. Features go deep and are detailed. This demands research, layers of fact-checking and, above all, planning.

3.
Japanese mags put the “j” in jealousy. I get very envious of how the smart editors at a publisher such as Magazine House are able to layer a story that ranges in scale, with micro images, break-out fact boxes, witty accompanying illos and then expansive images. 

4.
Western titles are slaves to templates. Make that Western media in general. I like the fact that I can deliver you this column in digital newsletter format on a Sunday but it can be a straitjacket that inhibits creativity, designed for efficiency rather than complex layouts. If you care about these things, spend time in the pages of Brutus to see how they tackle a single subject and constantly surprise.

5.
Japan shows us Western periodical publishers how to not only stay relevant in a digital world but also how to push ourselves. Ninety-six hours in Tokyo this week was a creative kick in the ass.

What does all of this mean for you, dear reader? If you’re a subscriber or newsstand buyer of our monthly edition, it means even better things are coming. As Monocle approaches its 20th anniversary (cards, bouquets and rare works of art can be sent our way on 14 February 2027), you’ll notice some fresh changes – not only on page but on air and on-screen. If you’re not a paid-up subscriber to the print edition (and its digital sibling), time to jump aboard. More from Lisbon next weekend.