At The Budo JourneyMan blog, there was a nice article about a category of Japanese aesthetics, Wabi Sabi. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.
Westerners who have an interest in art and the aesthetic seem to have really picked up on this in the last twenty years. Even if that’s not your zone, it’s worth looking at from a cross-cultural perspective.
Definition: ‘Wabi Sabi’, “Japanese philosophy that embraces beauty in imperfection, impermanence, and the transient nature of existence”.
Broken down; ‘Wabi’ is a kind of subdued, austere beauty. While ‘Sabi’ equals the appreciation of ‘rustic patina’.
Put these two together and you have a meditation on objects and phenomena that contain a type of understated, much loved and even over-used utility. A cracked teacup, no material value in itself, but perhaps it is an adored family heirloom and has some sentimentality, even charm. This can include the simplest of objects, clothing or utensils. It might be something used and worn by being passed through many hands. These are objects that have a rough simplicity to them, asymmetrical perhaps, but they are honest and intimate.
Human interaction.
Here is a quote from English writer (and bespoke furniture designer) Andrew Juniper:
"If an object or expression can bring about, within us, a sense of serene melancholy and a spiritual longing, then that object could be said to be wabi-sabi."
Andrew Juniper wrote the definitive book on Wabi-Sabi in English in 2003, ‘Wabi-Sabi: The Japanese Art of Impermanence’.
(Incidentally; I met Andrew Juniper briefly, but sadly we had no time to talk about Wabi-Sabi as he was too busy giving me a short masterclass in how to make the perfect cup of coffee).
Taking time to ponder deeply about the nature of objects, buildings, utensils, we find ourselves perhaps coming to terms with a mixture of wonder and sadness, a resigned reflection on our own transience and vulnerability.
This is a meditation, an interaction with an inanimate object, given purpose and meaning by us.
Why imperfection has value.
To me, imperfection is the antidote to the mechanism of the production line. I think that instinctively we have a mistrust of perfection; we treat the whitewashed wall with suspicion.
Deliberate artful symmetry can be dramatic, but can also lead to blandness and eventually boredom.
If the imperfections and the asymmetry are given space to occur, or the freedom to happen, then the honesty and the rawness comes through.
In a way, the perfection of the factory product had to happen, so that we appreciate the qualities found in its opposite.
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