Sawako Kabuki on butts, bodily fluids and making work that refuses to behave

Bottoms, bodily fluids, cells, sex, and the smelly and unruly business of having a body at all. It's not the subject matter most animators build an internationally decorated career on. But that's certainly the case for Sawako Kabuki. She's got a jury award at Annecy, recognition at SXSW and Ottawa, and clients including Google and Adult Swim. Her solo shows have titles like Butt Therapy and Everything Leaks. Everything is unmistakably human, and she's unapologetic about all of it.

And here's the thing: she never planned any of this. Kabuki didn't set out to be provocative, and she was never bothered about animation.

Before the films, she was an assistant director for an adult video company: "I was interested in live-action filmmaking and once thought I might become a film director, so the job taught me a lot about how a set actually works," she says. "But I also realised I'm not suited to working with large crews, giving constant instructions, or shouting 'Action!' and 'Cut!' Animation suits me much better because, in most cases, I can make it almost entirely on my own."

The pull towards working alone has shaped everything she's done since.

So when did she realise that bottoms and bodily fluids were her actual subject matter, and not a phase she'd grow out of? "Maybe I still haven't," she says. "I never consciously chose these subjects. They just keep finding their way back into my work. I've simply never grown tired of them."

Kabuki has said she wants to create "something kids can get addicted to", which is a striking ambition for work this frank. Why aim at people in their formative years, rather than simply making a point?

"The things I saw as a child, especially during those formative years, had a huge influence on who I am today," she explains. "I'd love to make work that stays with someone in the same way, for better or worse."

"I think kids are drawn to things they become obsessed with," she adds. "It's not about explaining an idea or making a point. It goes beyond logic and simply pulls you in. I'd love to create something like that."

Those instantly recognisable characters, all sharing one body shape, trace back to her own insecurities growing up. So, has drawing them thousands of times changed how she feels about her own body? "I'm not really sure. I still don't know how I feel about my own body," she says. "I think the best body is the one that feels right to you, but I'm not even sure what that means for me yet. For now, I'm trying to get jacked."

Kabuki has spoken about Japan having "a very unique sense of sexuality", a culture where hidden desire, she reckons, is exactly what produces "so many perverts". And she's glad to be from there. "There are so many contradictions around sexuality in Japan. It's publicly suppressed, yet that repression has created a unique culture. I find that contradiction fascinating," she says.

"I've also always had a rebellious streak. As a kid, if there was a rule, I wanted to break it. Maybe that's part of what I'm doing with my work, trying to break those contradictions apart. I hadn't really thought about it until now."

One recurring pattern in her life as an artist? Men apparently send her explicit images all the time, never women. For a while, she assumed it said something about gender. "At first, I genuinely wondered why that was, and I thought it might be an interesting thing to think about," she says. "But recently, a male friend told me that a woman kept sending him unsolicited pussy pictures even though he ignored her. So I guess it's not really about gender after all."

Does that mean her work is about feminism? "I'm flattered when people read my work that way, but I don't start with a social message in mind," she says. "It starts from a much more instinctive, physical curiosity." Which isn't quite the whole story, she admits: "That said, lately I've started to wonder if maybe those ideas are there unconsciously. Perhaps I've been thinking about them without even realising it."

The subject matter is undeniably explicit, which makes me wonder if she draws a line at all. "I think the line is whether it means something to me. If it feels natural to me, I don't see it as gratuitous," she says. "While I'm making the work, I never feel like I've crossed that line. But when I look back at some pieces years later, I sometimes think, 'Why did I make this?'"

For all the glorious rudeness, her visual DNA is deeply traditional: "Yokoo and Ukiyo-e inspire the visual language of my work: composition, colour and space," she says. "Eroticism and humour have always existed in Ukiyo-e too, so they feel quite connected to me."

How does she stop a big commercial brief from dialling down the weirdness? Characteristically, she doesn't overthink it. "I find out what they want and what they don't want, and then I work within those boundaries," she says. "After that, I just try to enjoy the process as much as I can."

Titles like Butt Therapy and Everything Leaks hint at catharsis, for her and maybe for us, too. She thinks that's right. "My earlier work was often a way of detoxing personal trauma or unpleasant memories," she says. "Over time, it has become more about universal bodily sensations and experiences. Looking back, I think release, freedom and healing might be the themes that have always been there."

You can feel exactly that in her films, like this recent short and this one, both funny and unsettling at once.

So what advice would she give to younger creatives? Be braver, perhaps? Instead, she offers something kinder and gentler. "I think that's ok too," she says. "Not being able to express something can be a form of expression in itself. There's something beautiful about leaving some obsessions unexpressed."