Wabi-sabi
I am fascinated by the Japanese tradition of wab-sabi. Always attracted by the idea of things that have had a previous life, many of the pieces of furniture and things I live with have come from junk shops, charity shops and flea markets and are distressed, scuffed and worn. These are all wabi-sabi qualities.
Wabi-sabi encapsulates the simple life, one that is modest and unassuming. It looks for beauty and truth in the everyday and ordinary things around us, and it accepts that everything is transitory and fleeting.
Wabi-sabi is a beauty of things modest and humble.
It is a beauty of things imperfect, impermanent and incomplete.
It is a beauty of things unconventional.
The colour and texture of metal as it rusts, the way a leaf slowly disintegrates as it fades on the pavement, the way clay cracks as it dries.
The scratches on an old piece of furniture, or the cracks in a ceramic bowl that has been broken and put back together, all evoke the wabi-sabi sense of beauty.
Wabi-sabi encapsulates the simple life, one that is modest and unassuming. It looks for beauty and truth in the everyday and ordinary things around us, and it accepts that everything is transitory and fleeting.
Wabi-sabi is a beauty of things modest and humble.
It is a beauty of things imperfect, impermanent and incomplete.
It is a beauty of things unconventional.
The colour and texture of metal as it rusts, the way a leaf slowly disintegrates as it fades on the pavement, the way clay cracks as it dries.
The scratches on an old piece of furniture, or the cracks in a ceramic bowl that has been broken and put back together, all evoke the wabi-sabi sense of beauty.