Yesterday I posted about my little perfectly imperfect mishap with the cup I designed and ordered from Zazzle.com (whom I highly recommend if you like stuff with names or sayings on it — the site has a lot to offer and their customer service is great). Itsathought2 left a comment about “Korean artist named Yee Sookyung who takes broken discard pottery from master potters and makes them into new pieces of art putting gold into the cracks. The results are lumpy and odd and yet quite lovely and infinitely interesting.” I looked her up and her work is beautiful.
It is, in fact, a perfect example of what Spiritual Dragonfly referred to in her comment as Wabi-Sabi. TOTALLY drew a blank and had to look it up. LOVED what I found. One article in particular explained the concept so well I thought I’d post it on here for future reference. You may find it interesting, too!
Thank you to BOTH of you guys for making A Lesson From A Cup a memorable post! I may have to drag my gold paint out and embellish my cup a little! (Oh look, Plato! I’m playing! 😀 )
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Wabi-Sabi: The Art Of Imperfection
The Japanese tradition of wabi-sabi offers an inspiring new way to look at your home, and your whole life.
by Robyn Griggs Lawrence, from Natural Home
September-October 2001
According to Japanese legend, a young man named Sen no Rikyu sought to learn the elaborate set of customs known as the Way of Tea. He went to tea-master Takeeno Joo, who tested the younger man by asking him to tend the garden. Rikyu cleaned up debris and raked the ground until it was perfect, then scrutinized the immaculate garden. Before presenting his work to the master, he shook a cherry tree, causing a few flowers to spill randomly onto the ground.
To this day, the Japanese revere Rikyu as one who understood to his very core a deep cultural thread known as wabi-sabi. Emerging in the 15th century as a reaction to the prevailing aesthetic of lavishness, ornamentation, and rich materials, wabi-sabi is the art of finding beauty in imperfection and profundity in earthiness, of revering authenticity above all. In Japan, the concept is now so deeply ingrained that it’s difficult to explain to Westerners; no direct translation exists.
Broadly, wabi-sabi is everything that today’s sleek, mass-produced, technology-saturated culture isn’t. It’s flea markets, not shopping malls; aged wood, not swank floor coverings; one single morning glory, not a dozen red roses. Wabi-sabi understands the tender, raw beauty of a gray December landscape and the aching elegance of an abandoned building or shed. It celebrates cracks and crevices and rot and all the other marks that time and weather and use leave behind. To discover wabi-sabi is to see the singular beauty in something that may first look decrepit and ugly.
Wabi-sabi reminds us that we are all transient beings on this planet—that our bodies, as well as the material world around us, are in the process of returning to dust. Nature’s cycles of growth, decay, and erosion are embodied in frayed edges, rust, liver spots. Through wabi-sabi, we learn to embrace both the glory and the melancholy found in these marks of passing time.
Bringing wabi-sabi into your life doesn’t require money, training, or special skills. It takes a mind quiet enough to appreciate muted beauty, courage not to fear bareness, willingness to accept things as they are—without ornamentation. It depends on the ability to slow down, to shift the balance from doing to being, to appreciating rather than perfecting.
You might ignite your appreciation of wabi-sabi with a single item from the back of a closet: a chipped vase, a faded piece of cloth. Look deeply for the minute details that give it character; explore it with your hands. You don’t have to understand why you’re drawn to it, but you do have to accept it as it is.
Rough textures, minimally processed goods, natural materials, and subtle hues are all wabi-sabi. Consider the musty-oily scene that lingers around an ancient wooden bowl, the mystery behind a tarnished goblet. This patina draws us with a power that the shine of the new doesn’t possess. Our universal longing for wisdom, for genuineness, for shared history manifests in these things.
There’s no right or wrong to creating a wabi-sabi home. It can be as simple as using an old bowl as a receptacle for the day’s mail, letting the paint on an old chair chip, or encouraging the garden to go to seed. Whatever it is, it can’t be bought. Wabi-sabi is a state of mind, a way of being. It’s the subtle art of being at peace with yourself and your surroundings.
Robyn Griggs Lawrence is editor-in-chief of Natural Home, the magazine of earth-inspired living. Now in its second year of publication, it keeps getting better with age. Covering subjects that range from choosing non-toxic paints, to building labyrinths, to designing a straw-bale greenhouse, Natural Home is a practical and elegant guide for people who want to make their homes more beautiful, earthy, and environmentally friendly. This article is from the May/June 2001 issue. Subscriptions: $24.95/yr. (6 issues) from Box 552, Mt. Morris, IL 61054-0552. (http://www.utne.com/mind-and-body/wabi-sabi.aspx?PageId=1#ArticleContent)
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Picture Credits:
Girl — nomadicalsabbatical.com
word — iamjenxi.com
Yee Sookyung piece — blog.pameladevriesdesigns.com
cup — thearabdailynews.com
saying — creativemarket.com
Soul Gifts said:
Yes, I remember reading it – there’s even a thread of our conversation in the comments here. This whole wabi-sabi thing really resonates with me. thanks for the re-read Calen. 🙂
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janebasilblog said:
I’ve been practicing wabi-sabi all my adult life, and I didn’t know it. It started when I was about nineteen, and I found a heap of pale blue cotton fabric which had got wet, and been left that way for long enough for the colour to bleed. It looked a bit like clouds in a summer sky, so I cut it up, made it into a long skirt, added feathery embroidery here and there to accentuate the effect, and hey presto – a wabi-sabi skirt.
I love making a feature of flaws, and as I refuse to buy anything new if I can get it second-hand, that’s a good thing…
I draw the line at second-hand, half empty tins of paint, however. II’s often lumpy and impossible, and anyway, it’s crucial to surround yourself with the right colours…
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calensariel said:
I get tired just thinking about painting. That’s on our list for this spring.
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janebasilblog said:
Mine too. I’ve been here since May, and although the paintwork was freshly repainted before I moved in, I want to make the place my own. No more magnolia walls! In the UK magnolia is an institution more than a colour. Every landlord uses it, except the few who prefer white. The trouble is, I’m very fussy about colour, and I have a favorite make of paint,but this year they don’t have the colours I want. I’ll probably have to mix them to get the right shades.
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joliesattic said:
What a wonderful post! Very interesting.
When I was in Austin, TX a few years back exploring one of their artsy shopping areas, I discovered a place that used broken China to make things with. Clay pots, bowls, lanterns and the like.
It made me curious as to what else, one could do with broken China. One day in exploring the web, I found where someone had decorated their fireplace with broken China. Instead of tile, they had surrounded their fireplace with complementary pieces of broken plates of China. It was actually quite lovely. Imagine the possibilities.
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calensariel said:
I’m assuming they used the flat pieces like from plates?
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joliesattic said:
Mostly, yes.
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Soul Gifts said:
I have come across this just recently and find the concept very intriguing. In our own way we too are ‘broken’ and become beautiful, unique beings as we heal, wearing our battle scars as medals of honour.
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calensariel said:
I think that’s what this journey through the Castle is about for me this year. I’ve done it before. About 25 years ago. Will be interesting to see if I’ve learned anything.
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Soul Gifts said:
Of course you have dear Lady Calen ! You’re still on the journey … then comes the consolidation phase as I call it, and light bulb moments. Don’t doubt yourself 🙂 Have you ever delved into Carolyn Myss’ work? She has written (or I should rather say channelled) a very in-depth book on Soul Growth called Entering the Castle based on the works of Hildegaard of Bingen. Might be the next part of your journey to dive into that one!
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calensariel said:
I’ve got it. I had a hard time getting into it. But it’s on my TBR shelf.
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Soul Gifts said:
We are so on the same page. I find it needs to be visited in little bites, it goes so deep.
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calensariel said:
Guess I’ll have to give it another go when I’m done the Castle of the Pearl.
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Soul Gifts said:
Don’t force it. You’ll know when the time is right 🙂
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Fimnora Westcaw said:
Wow, I think I’ve been doing Wabi Sabi all along! I’ve done that… but I especially like the idea of showing off the imperfection, not hiding it. There’s a crack in our ceiling, between the dining room and the living room. I’ll bet that filling it with gold, would make it a very interesting ceiling. 🙂
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calensariel said:
Well, if it’s real gold it would make your house worth a whole lot more!!! 😀
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Fimnora Westcaw said:
Now there’s an idea!!! Then I could afford to have someone else come and pack up this house, and maybe we could really move!
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calensariel said:
Now let’s see… What bank are we going to rob to get you the money to buy the gold??? 😉
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Mysticalwriter said:
I loved the post, thanks for sharing with us
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calensariel said:
Well special thanks to itsathought2 and Spritual Dragonfly for bringing it to MY attention. I’m so glad you enjoyed it! 😀
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Donna said:
Love it. It would be hard to feel perfect all the Time. At least all know of my imperfections and I do not have to impress anyone.
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calensariel said:
I hear ya, Donna. Mine are more than obvious, but I guess there’s still a part of me that wants people to think I have it all together. (They just don’t need to know I can’t remember where I put it!!! 😮 ) 🙂
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Donna said:
Lol
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itsathought2 said:
Wabi-Sabi. That’s a beautiful idea.
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calensariel said:
Yes. Nice lead-in there, friend! 😀
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