For illustrator and creative wanderer Molly Maine, the concept of “home” has become both personal and political. Having lived and worked nomadically for nearly a decade, her latest exhibition NOMAD unpacks the emotional complexity of belonging in a transient world. Inspired by her recent residency in Kanazawa, Japan, the work weaves together digital nomadism, cultural contrast, and human resilience. We caught up with Molly to explore the stories behind the pieces—and the ones still unfolding.
As someone who’s lived nomadically for almost a decade, how did your personal journey shape the emotional lens of “NOMAD”?
I’ve been living and working nomadically for over nine years now, and the question of “what is home?” has followed me throughout, especially since the pandemic. While I love travelling and feel grateful to have the freedom to work remotely, the idea of ‘home’ is something I’ve quietly wrestled with. Constantly arriving, leaving, wondering where I belong and where I’ll end up – it’s been a recurring question in the back of my mind. In many ways, this exhibition is as personal as it is observational. The illustrations are inspired by the stories of others, but through them, I’m also searching for something I recognise in myself.
Your illustrations reflect both transient modernity and enduring tradition—what was the most striking cultural contrast you encountered in Japan?
One of the things I love most about Japan is how these contrasts are everywhere. You might be in a city that feels ultra-modern and futuristic, ordering food from a robot, then turn a corner and find a centuries-old tea house. In the forest, you’ll spot glowing vending machines selling hot coffee in cans, tucked just outside ancient temple gates.
In Kanazawa, I visited a traditional tea house with tatami mats that now welcomes digital nomads. You could sit and drink matcha in a serene, historic setting, then open your laptop and start working. On a motorbike trip through the mountains of Shikoku, I stopped at a public toilet hut in the middle of nowhere, expecting something basic. Inside was a fully electronic toilet with a heated seat, auto-flush, and ten different buttons, including one that played music!
Can you tell us about the collaborative piece with Yu Yamaguchi and how that partnership deepened your understanding of “home” in a post-disaster context?
Collaborating with Yu Yamaguchi has been one of the most meaningful parts of this exhibition. She’s a traditional Natsume artist from Wajima, and her home and studio were destroyed in the Noto earthquake earlier last year. When I was in Kanazawa, I travelled to the Noto Peninsula and saw the recovery efforts first-hand. I was introduced to Yu afterwards and loved her work, so we decided to collaborate on a piece. We agreed on using the symbol of the Banksia flower, which blooms after fires and floods, as a symbol of resilience. I created the illustration and she’s engraving it in gold leaf onto a traditional tea container. Hearing Yu’s story, and those of others who lost their homes, gave me a different perspective on “home”, not just as a physical place, but as something fragile, evolving, and worth protecting.
How did your residency in Kanazawa influence the visual and thematic choices in the exhibition?
My time in Kanazawa had a big influence on the development of the exhibition. The city has a rich artistic heritage, particularly in gold leaf, which I incorporated into one of the pieces. I was inspired by the concept of Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold, transforming something damaged into something new and beautiful. It felt like the perfect metaphor for the charity print I created to raise funds for Noto, a region still recovering from the earthquake.
During my time in Kanazawa, I visited galleries, met local artists, and had time to reflect. I also carried out interviews, not just with fellow digital nomads, but with Japanese people who had relocated, and evacuees from Noto. Hearing their stories helped shape the direction of the exhibition. It made me realise how layered and deeply personal the idea of “home” can be.
Your work often explores the intersection of place and identity. How do you think digital nomadism is reshaping what “home” means globally?
I’ve been working remotely since before the pandemic, and I’ve definitely seen a shift. Post-pandemic, remote work has become more common, and more people are exploring this lifestyle. As more digital nomads emerge, I think traditional ideas of home and stability are being redefined. Many people can sadly no longer afford to buy houses in their hometowns due to increased cost of living, so they look for bases elsewhere. At first, travelling and living in this way is exciting, but over time, I’ve found that many nomads begin to crave stability, roots, and a sense of belonging. For some, home becomes a patchwork of people, habits, and emotional anchors that move with them. For others, it becomes a lifelong search for a place to finally settle.
From earthquake evacuees to remote creatives, the stories behind these artworks are layered—what encounter stayed with you most deeply?
One that really stayed with me was a hotel owner in Kanazawa who opened his hotel for free to evacuees after the Noto earthquake. He had flyers printed and distributed in the earthquake zone, and within hours he was receiving calls from people who needed a place to stay. Some families had walked for miles after losing their homes, including one woman who arrived carrying her three-month-old baby after running from her house moments before it collapsed. Some people ended up staying for months. His kindness and the care he showed in trying to create a welcoming, homely environment for strangers was incredibly moving.
You’ve previously studied in Nagoya and are now exhibiting in both London and Japan. How does it feel to bridge those cultural spaces through your art?
It feels like coming full circle. I studied at Nagoya University of Art on an Erasmus exchange during my illustration degree at Falmouth many years ago. That experience sparked a love for Japanese art and culture that’s stayed with me ever since. I had always hoped to return to Japan, so my trip last year, and the work that has emerged from it, feels very special and personal.
Looking ahead to the exhibition’s Japan tour and Colive Fukuoka—what conversations do you hope this body of work will spark around place, resilience, and creativity?
I hope the exhibition encourages people to reflect on what “home” means to them. Whether we move by choice, necessity, or circumstance, our relationship with place is always shifting. I also hope it sparks conversations about what we can give back. As a digital nomad with a British passport, I’m very aware of the privilege that comes with being able to travel freely and be welcomed into new places. I’d love for this show to prompt people to think not only about how we experience the places we visit, but also how we might connect with the people there and offer support, even in small ways.
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NOMAD
Perspectives on Home in a Changing Japan
A Solo Illustration Exhibition by Molly Maine
67 York Street Gallery, London
4th – 13th July 2025
