WeAdmire Presents the Yukio Miyamoto series at the Saatchi Gallery, London

We at WeAdmire are proud to announce the Yukio Miyamoto - (The maestro of illustrator) t-shirt series are now available at the Saatchi Gallery London. Here’s the official promo video. Narration by Mr Theo Stegers, the founder of WeAdmire.

Produced, directed and edited by Eden Cai



Some weeks ago Nigella Lawson and Charles Saatchi asked their cab driver to make a U turn in order to pull up at our studio along Great Eastern Street as the display of Yukio Miyamoto’s images on the t shirts grabbed their immediate attention. After looking at the tees, they were touched by the amazing artwork and mentioned that the Saatchi Gallery would be in touch. Indeed, Yukio’s shirts are now available at The Saatchi Gallery.


15 Great Eastern St.
London UK

+44 (0)2073771801



The Saatchi Gallery London:

Duke of York’s HQ
King’s Road


Yukio Miyamoto


Produced, filmed and edited by Eden Cai



The Royal British Legion (RBL), sometimes referred to as simply The Legion, is the United Kingdom’s leading charity providing financial, social and emotional support to those who have served or who are currently serving in the British Armed Forces, and their dependants. We at WeAdmire are commissioned to do a series of 5 shirts by The Royal British Legion and here’s a video for one of them; With an image of Lord Kitchner formed with poppies and a poem by Wilfred Owen printed at the back - A Strange Meeting.

Wilfred Owen (1893 - 1918)

Strange Meeting

‘Recited by Joe Ball’

It seemed that out of battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which titanic wars had groined.

Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then ,as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall, -
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.

With a thousand pains that vision’s face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
'Strange friend,’ I said, 'here is no cause to mourn.’
'None,’ said that other, 'save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled,
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery,
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.

I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now…’

Produced, filmed and edited by Eden Cai