Slapping up in Japan

Sticker Safari: A Street-Level Journey Through Tokyo, Osaka & Kyoto

This was my second trip to Japan, it had been about two years since my first trip and it felt brand new all over again. Tokyo is amazing to behold, the scale, the organized chaos, the electric hum that keeps you wide-eyed and off-balance but with a smile on your face. If you look past the flashing neon and crush of people, down the many alleys just past the vending machines and the glowing signs, there’s a whole other visual language happening. Stickers. Everywhere. Not just random tags, but a living street art ecosystem. Shibuya, Harajuku, Shinjuku, you could spend days just wandering, spotting hidden gems on light posts, utility boxes, back alley pipes. It’s raw, it’s playful, it’s weird as hell and it’s beautiful. I’m in love.

This time, I came prepared. Last trip, I didn’t bring nearly enough stickers. That mistake wasn’t going to happen again. We flew into Narita and I was armed with a sling pack full of Japan-edition StickerJerk originals. I was ready to contribute to the ongoing conversation happening on Tokyo’s walls and alleys. We based ourselves near the Asakusa area which delivered a great mix of shopping, historic charm and vibrant sticker action. Vending machines, pipes, signposts… the usual suspects were tagged and layered with years of expression. Some polished, some gritty, all of it saying something. I added a few of our own in spots that felt right. Not tagging every inch. Just joining in, respectfully.

Kitazawa was a standout. It’s been frequently featured on social media and I wanted to see for myself what it was all about. It is exactly the kind of neighborhood that makes you feel like you’ve stumbled onto something special. Known for its thrift shops and effortlessly cool vibe, it turned out to be a goldmine for stickers. Every stairwell, doorframe, and utility poll was fair game. You could see the dialogue between local artists, local weirdos, and kids just messing around. I found a perfect spot outside a record shop that smelled like vinyl and old denim, left a couple StickerJerk stickers tucked between a weird cat sticker and a skull wearing a trucker hat, and moved on. A small moment, but it hit.

From there we hit Osaka, and the energy completely changed. Less polished, more punch. Dotonbori was sensory overload, neon signs and screens the size of buildings battling each other for attention, and the walls were equally loud, absolutely covered in sticker chaos. Tags, indie brands, total nonsense just layer after layer. We spent the nights in listening bars that were spinning dusty jazz and old funk records, slipping into that creative rhythm of Osaka. Of course, I left some StickerJerk marks behind. Had to. It felt like the natural thing to do.

Kyoto was different. Quieter. More deliberate. The sticker scene wasn’t gone—it was just… subtle. More whispers than shouts. A few carefully placed messages tucked down alleyways or hiding near shrines. I dropped a few there, too, but mostly just took it in. You don’t force it in a place like that.

By the end of the trip, my camera roll was 70% stickers, 10% food and 20% Shrines and that feels about right. What stuck with me the most was how each city had its own voice. Tokyo is layered and expressive. Osaka is wild and loud. Kyoto, elegant and sparse. As someone obsessed with street art and custom stickers, it was a full-on creative recharge to see how our work lived in those spaces, sometimes blending in, sometimes standing out.

Sticker culture is global, but it’s also deeply personal. Whether you’re tagging a pole in Shibuya, decorating your laptop or skateboard, or sending a message only five people will understand, it all comes from the same place: the urge to create, to express, to leave something behind that says ‘I was here’. And that’s what we’re about at StickerJerk. Making good stickers for people who want to share their ideas.

Until the next trip. Stay weird. Stay loud. Stay creative.