As older collectors begin to step back, fueling the much-heralded Generational Wealth Transfer, the art world faces a pivotal question: how to engage and sustain a new generation of patrons capable of fueling an ever-expanding global ecosystem. Millennials and Gen Z collectors differ markedly from their predecessors—not only in taste but also in how they research, buy and define value. Winning them over will require new business models, new platforms and a rethinking of what collecting itself means. The clearest way to understand this shift is to listen to those driving it—to see what they value and how they navigate the art world today.
During Tokyo’s bustling art week this past September, Observer met Yu Kimoto—known on Instagram as @archivistar—whose CLTV Collection embodies this new generation of collectors emerging across Japan, Asia and beyond. Born in Nara Prefecture in 1983, Kimoto graduated from the College of Policy Science at Ritsumeikan University in 2006 before joining a digital agency. Three years later, he moved to a creative agency, working across advertising and business development for clients including Google, Olympus, Nissin and Sony. In 2014, he founded PLAY, followed by FLAG in 2016—ventures focused on new business development and offering end-to-end services across strategy, branding, PR and operations. After beginning to collect art a decade ago, Kimoto opened CLTV Studio in 2024 and is now preparing to launch the beta version of CLTV, a collection management platform, in spring 2026.
Yet on his Instagram profile, Kimoto describes himself simply as “Art + Design + Marketing + Fishing,” alongside CEO of Marph, a new platform for contemporary art. It’s an apt summary of a young entrepreneur whose career bridges media, design and business innovation—fields he sees as deeply interconnected rather than distinct.
According to the latest Art Basel and UBS Survey of Global Collecting, Millennials and Gen Z are approaching collecting in increasingly fluid ways—often beginning with sneakers and fashion capsules, moving into design and eventually finding their footing in art. Kimoto’s trajectory follows that same arc: a thirty-something collector acquiring leading names in contemporary art and icons of postwar design. “Art and fashion started to overlap in Japan about twenty years ago,” Kimoto says. “So for me, it felt natural.” In his twenties, he began collecting fashion before gradually developing a deeper appreciation for design and art—a progression that mirrors both his personal evolution and the broader cultural shifts shaping Japan’s new collector class.
Kimoto’s collection—aptly named the CLTV Collection—is as much a reflection of his professional life as it is of his taste. The space we visit in Shibuya doubles as both office and viewing room, with art greeting clients and visitors at the entrance and extending throughout company headquarters. As CEO, Kimoto sees displaying art in a workplace as a way to make the environment more playful and inspiring—a setting where creativity is visible and alive. For him, art is a core part of his business identity as much as his personal one, with little separation between collecting, work and life (distinctions that older collectors might rigorously maintain).
When it comes to collecting, there’s always that first acquisition that breaks the fear barrier and transforms a passion into a habit. Looking back, Kimoto traces the start of his “real” collecting to around 2006, when he completed a full set of figures from OriginalFake, the store artist KAWS was involved in running at the time. “Back then, I was collecting limited-edition sneakers and figures by artists like Tom Sachs and KAWS—things that existed as an extension of fashion and street culture rather than as ‘art’ per se,” Kimoto explains. “My interest at that point was more about culture and lifestyle than fine art.”
The first art piece Kimoto purchased came much later, in 2018, when he acquired an original drawing by KAWS—an artist who, with his youth-oriented aesthetic and accessible branding, ultimately served as a bridge between the two worlds. Even now, Kimoto says he retains a deep affection for fashion and street culture, and his collection expanded naturally alongside the broader convergence of those spheres with contemporary art.
“The natural merging of fashion, street culture and contemporary art was the foundation,” he notes. “What accelerated my evolution was discovering the excitement of finding emerging artists—both in Japan and abroad—through SNS and digital research.”
KAWS’s Untitled (1999), which he acquired in 2018, remains one of the works he feels most attached to—along with PA_1340 (2018) by Invader, which he purchased in 2019. “Both marked turning points for me, when I found myself resonating not just with the visual appeal of the works, but with the artists’ underlying philosophies and ways of life,” Kimoto reflects.
Having the opportunity to acquire 6 (1989), an early work by Julian Opie, was also profoundly meaningful for him. “Even in his formative years, Opie’s work already carried the strong identity that would later define his mature style. Tracing that evolution revealed to me the meaning and excitement of following an artist’s trajectory over time,” Kimoto explains. “Through that experience, I became more aware of the importance—and joy—of collecting younger artists’ works and witnessing their growth across decades.”
The ability to connect directly with artists through social networks and digital platforms proved transformative, turning collecting into a serious passion and long-term commitment. “It allowed me to learn about artists firsthand and communicate with them directly, shifting my motivation away from investment toward a genuine desire to support young creators with fresh energy,” he says. “That change has deeply shaped the direction of my collection.”
More broadly, the traditional gallery system has also evolved—and must continue to evolve, Kimoto asserts. “Art has become a more natural part of people’s lifestyles,” he says. “I sense a return from overly market-driven notions of art toward its more essential role—enriching daily life. Personally, I see art and furniture as existing on the same plane within a space, so I find this shift very positive.”
In Kimoto’s collection, an iconic Michael Kagan sculpture inspired by the Apollo missions—a nod to Kimoto’s fascination with technology and human achievement—stands alongside one of the artist’s astronaut paintings and works by contemporary figures such as José Parlá and Anna Park. These coexist harmoniously with design classics, including Charlotte Perriand’s Méribel Chair from the 1960s and the Pine Dining Table from Les Arcs, also from the 1970s. Near the entrance hangs Lawrence Weiner’s wall text As Long As It Lasts (1992), positioned close to an early Julian Opie piece from 1989, whose sculptural minimalism reflects Kimoto’s architectural background and interest in structure and framing—a sensibility that also drew him toward design. Works by emerging Asian artists such as Leng Guangmin, Shiro Kuramata and mike lee line the walls, paired with a set of Alvar Aalto shelves originally designed in the 1940s for tuberculosis patients—which Kimoto describes as “emotional cases.” His holdings also include ceramics by Yuji Ueda and a rare George Nakashima table from 1973, one of fewer than one hundred signed works the craftsman ever produced.
Among his most prized pieces are original vintage “light sculptures” by Isamu Noguchi, including a large spherical work from the 1950s. Kimoto began collecting them early, long before White Cube began representing Noguchi and the market surged. Today, he owns around eighty of the three hundred models Noguchi conceived, all carefully stored in a custom wooden case designed by Charlotte Perriand.
Kimoto’s interest in furniture emerged around 2014, when he established his office. “I began gradually collecting mid-century American pieces—by George Nelson, the Eameses and others,” he explains. “As my contemporary art collection expanded, my attention shifted toward figures like Isamu Noguchi and Charlotte Perriand, whose work forms beautiful dialogues with art.”
Both Noguchi and Perriand had strong ties to Japan, which led Kimoto to explore furniture by Japanese masters such as Junzo Sakakura and Kenzo Tange. “For me, the greatest pleasure lies in composing spaces where art and furniture coexist—each amplifying the other to shape the atmosphere of the room,” he says.
One of the enduring joys of collecting, he says, is the freedom to curate independently, unbound by the hierarchies of galleries or the art market. Because of this, while older Japanese collectors often approach art as a long-term investment, he does so with greater ease—guided by curiosity and enjoyment rather than financial calculation. “If it turns out to be valuable, that’s great. If not, that’s totally fine.”
When asked how collecting is changing in Japan, Kimoto acknowledges that, much like in the rest of the world, there are many different types of collectors. “Some purchase purely for investment, while others start collecting because they believe engaging with art can sharpen their own business sensibilities,” he says. Among Japanese collectors in their forties and fifties, many were shaped by the fashion and subcultures they grew up with—particularly the Ura-Harajuku scene that defined Tokyo’s 1990s street fashion era. As a result, these younger collectors tend to be highly attuned to and confident in their own sense of style and taste, Kimoto notes. “In general, I think the new generation of collectors is characterized by an intuitive approach, choosing works based on personal resonance rather than critical or market value and by actively supporting artists through social media and global networks.”
This observation aligns with another finding from the Art Basel and UBS report: the rise of direct sales from artists’ studios and a dramatic shift in how information and advice circulate among younger collectors, with online and social platforms such as Instagram now among the most influential sources, replacing the traditional gatekeepers of the past.
While Kimoto says he frequently visits galleries and art fairs both in Japan and abroad, he also conducts extensive research online. “When I first began collecting Isamu Noguchi’s Akari series, I purchased mainly from trusted dealers,” he recalls. “Over time, I started researching historical pamphlets and publications, which led me to identify distribution channels and production periods based on the information printed in those documents.” Today, Kimoto also acquires pieces through auctions and directly from private collectors.
In fact, this new wave of younger collectors like Kimoto is determined to participate actively in shaping the ecosystem—building a community around their passion and reimagining a system they don’t necessarily identify with. He’s likewise committed to fostering a culture of collecting among his peers. He founded CLTV, a database that tracks auction values and art-market trends, to help educate and empower younger collectors. While he has already begun opening his collection for private visits during recent art weeks in Tokyo—first during Tokyo Gendai in September and again with Art Basel in November—he plans to open a new collection space in Aoyama in spring 2026 called CLTV HOME. Its inaugural exhibition, dedicated to Noguchi’s Akari series, aims to raise awareness and expand the younger audience for contemporary art in Japan and beyond.
In recent years, particularly among the younger generation Kimoto represents, Japan’s art scene has grown increasingly open to the world. His collection reflects this distinctly international perspective while continuing to support both Japanese masters and emerging voices. “With the acceleration of digitalization and social media, Japan’s art scene has become increasingly global and younger artists are emerging with remarkable momentum,” Kimoto says. Many of these artists grew up immersed in anime and Japanese pop culture—now global phenomena—and channel those influences naturally into their art, resonating with collectors who share the same tastes and cultural touchstones.
On the collectors’ side, a generational shift is clearly underway. “Another defining aspect of today’s collectors—those raised alongside social media—is their openness: many actively share their collections online,” Kimoto observes. “New encounters between collectors and artists happen daily through these platforms.”
The art database he is developing, CLTV, will include a feature that allows collectors to share portions of their collections publicly online. Beyond Instagram, Kimoto hopes such dedicated spaces for presentation will foster greater diversity and a renewed sense of community—something he believes the traditional art world has lost amid its over-financialization and rigid structures.
“I’m excited to see what kinds of expressions this new generation will bring,” Kimoto says, neatly closing our conversation and capturing the optimism that defines this new wave of collectors reshaping the art world.
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