Imagine you've come round for a cuppa and I hand you a slightly wonky mug. You turn it over and ask whether someone dropped it before it went into the kiln. I say it has character. You say so does your brother-in-law, and nobody puts him in a display cabinet.
We laugh. The mug still holds tea. And there's the start of a more interesting conversation than whether everything ought to look as though it's just come out of a box.
Wabi-sabi gives us a way into talking about beauty, time and everyday objects. It's worth knowing a little about its background before sticking the label on every patch of peeling paint. A leaking pipe hasn't necessarily achieved enlightenment.
What does wabi-sabi mean?
In Japanese aesthetics, wabi concerns understated beauty, while sabi evokes age and patina. That's a starting point, with more nuance in Stanford's account of Japanese aesthetics.
Two lines won't cover the whole subject. Nor is this a rulebook followed by everyone in Japan, or a law declaring broken things automatically beautiful. There's more to notice when we stop expecting everything to look the same. That needn't become another test to pass.
The Metropolitan Museum describes the connection with tea: masters such as Sen no Rikyū valued rustic, irregular vessels. Apparent simplicity could involve considerable skill.
Have a look before reaching for the label
Back to our imaginary mug. You might notice the variations in its glaze, the curve of the rim or a mark left by its maker. Perhaps you love it. Perhaps you'd prefer a smoother one. You won't be thrown out of the kitchen for either answer.
Finding something interesting about an irregular shape is different from pretending every fault improves an object. If the mug leaks onto your trousers, your artistic sensibilities aren't the problem. The tea was meant to stay inside.
That's a useful distinction at home. You might enjoy a mark left by use while wanting to fix a loose part. Looking after something needn't mean erasing every trace of its past.
A photograph has edges
This photograph shows a Magikito figure, some sunglasses and a table with a visible grain. We can enjoy the textures without holding a competition to find the most authentic object. The scene has been arranged, as photographs often are, and it can still be fun. It doesn't prove that whoever set it up has life sorted. Our brownie looks more concerned with saving a seat than delivering a lecture on Japanese aesthetics. We've made that last bit up, of course.
If arranging a photograph is something you enjoy, carry on. If you've spent ages moving a mug about and you're fed up, you can stop. There's no need for a whole palaver over producing photographic proof that you're living properly. A picture shows a view, not somebody's entire week. You might also fancy eating breakfast while it's still warm.
Kintsugi leaves the repair visible
Traditional kintsugi joins broken ceramics with urushi-based adhesive and finishes the seams with gold powder. Japan House London explains the process.
A repair can become part of how a piece looks. That doesn't mean nobody in Japan throws away a bowl, or that breaking something raises its price. You needn't smash a mug to give it a story. Getting through the washing-up is adventure enough.
As a metaphor, carrying on without pretending nothing happened may mean something to you. But you decide what to share and what to keep private. Your troubles don't have to become beautiful to deserve care. You don't have to prove you've learnt a lesson from a difficult experience.
Gran's table and the one you bought yesterday
Perhaps you've kept a table because you remember the meals around it. There's a ring left by a glass and one worn corner. That connection belongs to you. A visitor needn't understand it, and an antiques dealer needn't put a price on it.
A new table can become important too. Today it arrives, tomorrow somebody spills hot chocolate during a conversation you'll remember for twenty years. Affection doesn't require a certificate of antiquity. Being mass-produced doesn't rule an object out either.
Our brownies have wrinkles of their own
This figure has modelled wrinkles and white hair. They're features of a character, not evidence of its age. In our brownie collection, you can look at expressions, clothing and gestures. We'd give this one a very long speech about the best shady spot in the garden. Half an hour in, he'd still be explaining and wouldn't have sat down.
Our handmade cold porcelain figures represent the Magikitos. Individual details and careful workmanship can go together. A jaunty hat might be an amusing choice. A piece falling off is a different matter. Calling absolutely everything “character” won't quite do.
Are wabi-sabi and minimalism the same thing?
No. Choosing to have fewer possessions, as we discuss in our article on minimalism, is different from appreciating their textures or signs of use. Both can happen in the same home. We needn't pit a spotless white room against a messy brown one.
Start with something you already have
Pick an everyday object and take a moment to look at it. What do you like, how do you use it, what would you keep and what needs attention? You can tidy around it, clean it or move it. Appreciating it doesn't commit you to keeping it for ever.
If this way of looking appeals, take it with you. If it doesn't, nobody's revoking your right to enjoy nice things. We're going back to the mug. You still reckon it resembles your brother-in-law. At least this one knows when to keep quiet.
