從宜蘭到東京,我看見台灣創作者的溫柔突圍|Loft「Creative POP wave from Taiwan」

從宜蘭到東京,我看見台灣創作者的溫柔突圍|Loft「Creative POP wave from Taiwan」

當我在宜蘭工作室裡畫下一朵蒲公英,我沒想過它有一天可能出現在東京澀谷的 Loft 貨架上。但 2025 年 1 月,這件事確實發生在 11 位台灣創作者身上——不是單打獨鬥的參展,而是以「Creative POP wave from Taiwan」的名義,集體進駐日本最具指標性的連鎖雜貨通路。

這件事讓我想起多年前在羅東夜市,看見一位阿嬤賣的手繪明信片。她的畫很美,但只能在那個角落被看見。台灣創作者的才華從來不缺,缺的是被「系統化地看見」的機會。

從孤島到群島:集體品牌化的意義

過去台灣創作者進軍日本市場,多半是參加設計展、寄賣單品,或是透過個人人脈打進某家選品店。這次不一樣。由株式會社 Small Planet 專業代理授權,Taiwan Love 設立常設販售點,Loft 用企劃主題的方式包裝——這不只是賣商品,而是在建立「台灣 = Creative & Cute」的品牌印象。

我特別在意「集體」這個詞。11 位創作者一起出現,代表的不是個人風格的展示,而是一種文化氛圍的傳遞。就像宜蘭不是只有一座龜山島,而是整片蘭陽平原的溫潤氣質。當創作者們聚在一起,那股溫柔而堅定的創作能量,才能真正被感受到。

92 倍的差距,與一條可能的路徑

數字很殘酷:台灣 IP 產業規模 6.17 億台幣,日本 5700 億台幣,差距是 92 倍。但 Loft 這個案例告訴我們,問題不是「台灣創作者沒有競爭力」,而是「缺乏系統化出海機制」。

我常在想,為什麼華山 1914 這樣的文創園區,主力 IP 多是日本品牌?不是台灣原創不夠好,而是我們習慣把最好的位置留給「已經成功」的人。但成功是怎麼來的?就是有人願意在還沒紅的時候,給你一個貨架、一次機會、一個被看見的可能。

Small Planet 做的事情,就是這個「系統」。他們不是等創作者自己紅了才來談合作,而是主動把台灣創作者「打包」成一個有識別度的文化輸出品牌。這讓我想起宜蘭的農會包裝金棗蜜餞——單獨一顆金棗很難賣,但包裝成「宜蘭伴手禮」,就有了價值跟故事。

零售通路,是最溫柔的戰場

很多人會覺得進駐大型零售通路是「商業化」,好像會失去創作的純粹性。但我認為,能在 Loft 的貨架上被一個東京上班族看見、拿起、購買、帶回家——這本身就是一種溫柔的連結。

零售通路不是終點,而是起點。當一個日本消費者因為在 Loft 買了台灣創作者的紙膠帶,開始好奇「台灣還有什麼有趣的創作者」,這才是文化輸出真正的力量。不是高舉旗幟說「我們很厲害」,而是讓人在日常生活裡,自然而然地感受到台灣創作的溫度。

被忽略的風景,正在發光

身為一個在宜蘭工作的插畫家,我總覺得自己像是在邊陲觀察世界。但這次 Loft 的案例讓我意識到:也許正是這些「被忽略的地方」,藏著最真實的創作能量。

台灣創作者不需要變成日本人喜歡的樣子,我們需要的是一個「翻譯」的機制——把我們的溫柔、幽默、日常裡的小確幸,用對的方式傳遞出去。當 11 位創作者一起站上 Loft 的貨架,那不只是商品的陳列,而是台灣創作美學的一次集體發聲。

我們總在別人忽略的地方看見風景,而現在,這些風景正要被世界看見。

The Gentle Wave: How Taiwanese Creators Are Breaking Into Japan’s Retail Heart

When I draw a dandelion seed in my Yilan studio, I never imagine it might one day appear on a shelf in Tokyo’s Loft stores. But in January 2025, this became reality for 11 Taiwanese creators—not as isolated exhibitors, but as a collective force under the banner “Creative POP wave from Taiwan,” entering one of Japan’s most iconic retail chains.

This reminds me of a grandmother I once saw at Luodong Night Market, selling hand-painted postcards. Her art was beautiful, but it could only be seen in that corner. Taiwanese creators have never lacked talent; what we’ve lacked is the opportunity to be “systematically seen.”

From Isolated Islands to an Archipelago

Historically, Taiwanese creators entering the Japanese market meant participating in design fairs, consigning individual products, or leveraging personal connections to break into select shops. This time is different. With professional licensing representation by Small Planet Co., permanent retail presence through Taiwan Love, and Loft’s curated thematic packaging—this isn’t just about selling products; it’s about building the brand identity of “Taiwan = Creative & Cute.”

I’m particularly moved by the word “collective.” Eleven creators appearing together doesn’t merely showcase individual styles—it transmits a cultural atmosphere. Like how Yilan isn’t just Guishan Island, but the gentle character of the entire Lanyang Plain. When creators gather, that tender yet determined creative energy can truly be felt.

A 92x Gap, and One Possible Path

The numbers are harsh: Taiwan’s IP industry is worth 617 million TWD versus Japan’s 570 billion TWD—a 92-fold difference. But the Loft case reveals that the issue isn’t “Taiwanese creators lack competitiveness,” but rather “we lack systematic export mechanisms.”

I often wonder why cultural parks like Huashan 1914 primarily feature Japanese IP brands. It’s not that Taiwanese originals aren’t good enough—we’re just accustomed to reserving prime spaces for those “already successful.” But how does success happen? Someone has to give you shelf space, one opportunity, one chance to be seen before you’re famous.

What Small Planet does is create that “system.” They don’t wait for creators to become famous before approaching them—they proactively package Taiwanese creators into a recognizable cultural export brand. This reminds me of how Yilan’s farmers’ association packages kumquat preserves—a single kumquat is hard to sell, but packaged as “Yilan souvenirs,” it gains value and story.

Retail: The Gentlest Battlefield

Many perceive entering major retail channels as “commercialization,” as if it would compromise creative purity. But I believe when a Tokyo office worker can see, pick up, purchase, and bring home something from a Loft shelf—that itself is a tender connection.

Retail isn’t the endpoint; it’s the starting point. When a Japanese consumer buys a Taiwanese creator’s washi tape at Loft and becomes curious about “what other interesting creators Taiwan has,” that’s the true power of cultural export. Not waving flags proclaiming “we’re great,” but letting people naturally feel Taiwan’s creative warmth in their daily lives.

Overlooked Landscapes, Now Glowing

As an illustrator working in Yilan, I often feel like I’m observing the world from the periphery. But this Loft case made me realize: perhaps it’s precisely these “overlooked places” that harbor the most authentic creative energy.

Taiwanese creators don’t need to become what Japanese audiences expect. What we need is a “translation” mechanism—conveying our gentleness, humor, and everyday small joys in the right way. When 11 creators stand together on Loft’s shelves, it’s not just product display—it’s a collective voice for Taiwanese creative aesthetics.

We always see landscapes where others overlook. Now, these landscapes are about to be seen by the world.