by Beth Kempton
Jimi ( ) Literally means ‘earth taste’ – sober, conservative, unobtrusive. Neutral, beige or dull grey tones. If patterned, a low contrast all-over plain design.
There is a place for elegance in each of these tastes, but they look very different on the surface. They can also be used to describe attitudes.
Where does wabi sabi fit in?
For some time now the term wabi sabi has been used in the West as an adjective to describe a particular taste. It has come to represent a natural, rustic look, which honours imperfection, organic materials, textures and character. In terms of colours, think subtle shades of nature – earth tones, greens, blues, neutrals, greys, rusts. I love objects with characteristics like these. I am drawn to them, and I decorate my home with them. But they are not wabi sabi in the deep sense that we have been discussing.
My guess is that this shift in meaning happened some time ago, when some daring foreigners, intrigued by wabi sabi , sought to get to the heart of the matter. I imagine the kindly Japanese people they asked about it perhaps couldn’t find the right words, so instead they pointed to things like a simple bowl, a tea-ceremony room or a withered leaf – things they associate with the experience of wabi sabi , but that are not intrinsically so. As a result, we have come to a curious place where many of us non-Japanese are familiar with wabi sabi as a name for a particular ‘look’ that celebrates imperfection and the mark of time, rather than appreciating its powerful depths.
To avoid confusion, and for want of a single Japanese word, I will use the term ‘wabisabi esque’ to describe this particular kind of visual taste (on the surface), in contrast to the philosophical wabi sabi as an experience of the essence of beauty (in the depths).
Here are some of the terms most commonly used to describe the wabisabi esque look:
• Asymmetrical
• Atmospheric
• Flawed beauty
• Humble
• Imperfect
• Irregular
• Marks of the passage of time
• Modest
• Natural
• Nostalgic
• Organic
• Raw
• Restrained
• Rough
• Rustic
• Serene
• Simple
• Soulful
• Subtle
• Textured
• Understated
If we were then to add this ‘wabisabi esque’ to the taste spectrum, I think it would sit somewhere between shibui and jimi (although exactly where it sits is, of course, a matter of taste):
What is your natural style?
Take a moment to consider where your natural taste lies on this spectrum. To help you identify this, take a look around your own home, and think about the kind of spaces that inspire you. Remember, visual interest can come from texture, shape, scale and shadow, not just from colour.
• If your taste is hade or iki , wabisabi esque style can add a little calm and serenity, and help you reconnect with nature.
• If your taste is shibui , wabisabi esque style is likely a natural fit for you, if not already on your radar, and can bring a little more character and story.
• If your taste is jimi , wabisabi esque style can add a little warmth and richness.
The beauty beneath
The Japanese appreciation of beauty does not stop at the external ‘look’. Rather, there are particular words to describe the emotional quality of beauty beneath the surface, connected to our experience of that beauty. There is a host of different words to represent different aspects of this, some of which cross over in meaning with others. To keep it simple I would like to share just the most important ones here. 12
Mono no aware ( )
The term ‘mono no aware ’ is a refined sensitivity and emotional response to time-limited beauty, and has been variously translated as ‘the pathos of things’, ‘the bittersweet poignancy of things’ and even ‘the ahhness of things’. It is the beauty in perishability. At first glance, the description may seem similar to ideas about wabi sabi , but there is one distinct difference: mono no aware focuses on the beauty (and the impending vanishing of that beauty), whereas wabi sabi draws our attention to what that beauty reminds us about life. When Japanese people use metaphors to describe each term, they will often reference the fleeting beauty of the delicate blooming pink cherry blossom just before it falls when alluding to mono no aware , but for wabi sabi they would be more likely to speak of a fallen autumn leaf.
Yūgen ( )
The term ‘yūgen ’ refers to the depth of the world as seen with our imagination. It has been likened to the beauty of grace, of mystery and of realising we are a small part of something so much greater than ourselves. Yūgen is considered one of the most important principles of traditional Japanese Nō drama. It emerged from the highly refined culture of the Heian-era nobility 13 and has evolved over time to represent a profound sense of wonder instilled by the poetic nature of beauty.
Wabi ( )
As we saw in Chapter 1 , wabi is the feeling generated by recognising the beauty found in simplicity. It is a sense of quiet contentment found away from the trappings of a materialistic world. The spirit of wabi is deeply connected to the idea of accepting that our true needs are quite simple, and of being humble and grateful for the beauty that already exists right where we are.
Sabi ( )
Again, as we saw in Chapter 1 , sabi communicates a deep and tranquil beauty that emerges with the passage of time. Visually, we recognise this as the patina of age, weathering, tarnishing and signs of antiquity and, as such, it can be used to describe the appearance of a thing. But it also goes deeper than that. It is a particular beauty which respects, reflects and reminds us of the natural cycle of life, prompting a host of emotional responses, ranging from wistfulness and melancholy to pensiveness and longing.
These emotional elements of beauty are of great importance to the Japanese aesthetic sense. To appreciate them, we have to pause, pay attention, be open and tune in.
Writing about Japanese beauty in House Beautiful in 1958, then editor Elizabeth Gordon, who was in the process of a five-year-long research project preparing for two record-breaking issues on Japan, said:
First, you won’t learn to recognise beauty if you are tied to the familiar or the time-honoured way of doing something. You have to look at everything through pure eyes, which means forgetting all associations of price, age, social context, prestige, etc. Wipe away all judgements made by others and respond to the object as you do to those things in nature such as trees, sunsets, clouds and mountains. Second, you won’t learn to see beauty if you look at objects isolated from each other. Especially in objects inescapably tied to each other. Things grow or shrink in beauty depending on what environment they are seen against. 14
Inspired by Japan, one of America’s leading tastemakers at the time hereby gave her readers blanket permission to stop judging the things they put in their home by their perceived value in relation to what others thought, and rather to embrace what instinctively drew them in.
The beauty inside
Japanese beauty cannot be described, in one word, with logic. It has to be seen with the eye and the heart, participated in, experienced. The most important lesson wabi sabi teaches us for inviting more beauty into our lives and living spaces is this:
Beauty is in the heart of the beholder.
But if beauty is in the heart of the beholder what does this mean in practice for us, in terms of discovering a new way of seeing?
It means seeking out beauty with all our senses. It means pulling ourselves back from the constant pursuit of more, so we can notice what’s already in our field of vision. It means slowing down enough to look, and paying attention to what lies beneath the surface. It means surrounding ourselves with things and people and ideas we love and cherish. And it means reflecting, every now and then, about the fact that life is a cycle, not a forever, and that it’s s
hort and precious.
It also means opening our hearts to possibility and wonder. And it means looking for the gifts of a simpler life.
Senjyōjiki ni nete mo tatami ichi mai. Even in a room of a thousand tatami mats, you only sleep on one. Japanese proverb
Making your home your own
Spread around me on the floor is a multitude of interior magazines and books I have collected from Japan over the years. I am trying to pinpoint exactly what it is that has long drawn me to Japanese design and style. As my eyes flit across the covers, and my hands flick through the pages, I am transported back to the early 2000s, when I was living and working in Tōkyō. I had a hectic job in the world of sport, but in my spare moments – at lunchtimes, and weekends – I would spend hours in cosy cafés, reading about architecture, interior design, ceramics, textiles and styling. Rare days off were spent visiting exhibitions and seeking out independent shops in Jiyūgaoka, Daikanyama and Kagurazaka, delighting not only in the beautifully crafted products on offer, but also in the way they were packaged and wrapped.
When considering what to do after my contract had ended, I mulled over the prospect of training as an ‘interior co-ordinator’, helping people style their homes. There was a huge boom in zakka shops. The rather dull translation of zakka as ‘miscellaneous items’ belies the delight found in zakka treasures – things that express your taste and personality, and add layers of story to your home. Many of the products in zakka shops were compact, reflecting both the Japanese love of attention to detail, and the practical reality of people living in small spaces. Around this time, I developed a slight obsession with Japanese stationery, a love that remains to this day. I also discovered the Japanese genius for home organisation and creative storage.
My tiny apartment in Ushigome-Yanagichō was tucked away in a quiet patch of residential houses, far from the nearest high-rise, which made the area feel more like a village than the middle of a thriving metropolis. The front door opened into a genkan (entranceway) where shoes would be removed before stepping up into the apartment. With the exception of a small bathroom, my place was a one-room studio. Outside the kitchen window was a small disused piece of land where mint grew like wildfire. To this day, I think of the apartment every time I smell that cool, refreshing scent.
I furnished it slowly and carefully, on a budget and within the constraints that come with such a modest space. Each item was treasured, and had a memory attached. The washi paper I used as a wall hanging had been sourced from my favourite paper shop one early spring afternoon, just as the plum blossom was falling. The linen tablemats, hand-carved chopsticks and well-loved crockery had been precious gifts from friends. I used them even when it was just me for dinner, which was most days. Books about flowers, pottery and slow living were stacked in small piles with a teapot or a vase atop, used as decorations in place of expensive objets .
Before we can beautify, we need to simplify, and make the most of the space that we have.
These days, we have so much choice, and access to so many cheap things, we usually shop, consume and grow our credit-card bills in a hurry. Our lives and our cupboards are rapidly becoming overstuffed. In recent years, as my family has grown to include two young daughters with a penchant for pink plastic and baby dolls, I have found myself returning to Japanese inspiration for ideas on bringing a sense of serenity to our home without breaking the bank.
Themes to inspire you
To come back to the commonalities between the Japanese interior books and magazines that lay scattered at my feet, I noticed several threads: simple clear spaces, texture in furnishings, carefully chosen items displayed in a way that is gentle on the eye, small things in a small place (no oversized furniture, for example), more put away than on display, nature indoors (from a tiny courtyard garden to flowers and found objects displayed inside) and a sense of the seasons, shadows and light, lots of neutrals, flexibility in the way the space is used and an underlying sense of calm.
There was also often a detail that invited a sense of wonder. A single bloom in a tiny vase. A partly hidden view, suggesting, but not telling. This made me think about how we could benefit from not putting all our treasures on display, not cramming every spare inch with stuff, not telling our whole life story on first meeting or rushing to fill all the pauses in a conversation.
I have gathered these threads into five themes for you to explore in your own life. They are: simplicity, space, flexibility, nature and details. 15
Simplicity
One Japanese lifestyle brand I have admired for years is ‘fog linen work’, 16 founded by designer and entrepreneur Yumiko Sekine over two decades ago. Her store, tucked away on a small street in the trendy Shimo-Kitazawa district of Tōkyō, is a serene oasis in the bustling capital. Exposed concrete walls are a textured, yet neutral backdrop for wide open shelves, which hold linen napkins in wire baskets, small stacks of wooden plates and open trays with tiny buttons. Linen clothing and bags in subtle colours are spread out on a long rail. My favourite items are the heavy-duty aprons, which make you want to go straight home and cook something. There is a sense of space, and of time stopping inside the store.
Sekine-san has had years of exposure to the West, having imported lifestyle goods from the USA before she set up ‘fog’, and now working primarily with Lithuanian suppliers to manufacture the linen goods she designs herself. This makes her style choices even more accessible, as they seem just as at home in a San Francisco apartment or London town house as in a Japanese abode.
When asked to share a few words about her particular style she told me:
It’s simple, minimal, organised. My European distributor tells me there is something distinctly Japanese about the way I display our products. I like calm neutrals, and I sometimes use accent colours for our clothes, depending on the season. My aim is to make quiet products that can ease themselves into people’s lives and homes, bringing a subtle sense of calm. I like to live with natural materials, such as linen, cotton, wood and some metal. No plastic. This suits my personality, and my love of simple things.
Every time I go to Sekine-san ’s store it inspires me to make my own shelves more open, to pare back and display only things I really love. When we stop using shelves just for storage, and instead see them as holders of treasures, the difference is remarkable. Instead of a room closing in on you, it seems to open up.
On my return from Tōkyō this time, I hung my linen apron on a hook where I could see it, made a simple display of cookbooks paired with vintage bottles and old photos on the windowsill, shook out a favourite tablecloth and popped some wildflowers in a vase to go in the centre of the table. It took a couple of minutes and cost me nothing. Instantly, I wanted to be in the kitchen, making something delicious for my little family.
Top tips for decluttering
It is well documented that decluttering our spaces can help declutter our minds, not to mention save us time and money. Try it in your own home with these simple tips:
1. First, taking inspiration from the household-organisation guru Marie Kondō, 17 make a list of the main categories of ‘stuff’ in your home, such as books or toys. Then, pick a category and gather like things together from all around the house. Select only what you need or truly love, and then get rid of the rest (sell, recycle, donate). This can be fairly daunting if you have stuff spread all over your house, but in the end it means you are making decisions based on all the facts. When you realise you have five sun hats but only go somewhere hot once a year, it suddenly becomes easier to let go of excess stuff. When putting the remaining items away, try to keep like things together, so you can easily retrieve them.
2. Consider what you can replace or eliminate with technology – for example, using music apps instead of buying physical recordings, printing and framing a few special photos and storing the rest digitally, or perhaps using ereaders and the local library for all but your favourite books.
3. Consider what you can store in your memory, instead of
in your cupboards. For example, if a distant relative passed away and you received a box full of items connected with them, choose one thing to keep as a reminder, and then release the rest.
4. Gather up your paper mountain, and sort it into three piles: a) To Action; b) To File; and c) To Bin. With pile a) To Action, set aside an afternoon where you action every single item. No excuses. With pile b) To File, where possible scan and digitally store and back up your documents, and then shred the originals, keeping only what is required by law, such as home-ownership documents. With pile c) To Bin, shred anything private and recycle the rest. Then choose one place where you will put all pending paper from now on, and make a weekly appointment with yourself to action, file or bin.
5. One dropped piece of clothing, unfiled letter or dumped toy is a magnet for others. Bring in a simple system for easy tidiness.
6. Involve those you live with. Make it a game.
7. Don’t forget to declutter your handbag or wallet. It’s a space you probably view more times in a day than most of the rooms in your house.
Space
Although the average Japanese person does not live in an architect-designed home, there are valuable lessons to be learned from the principles of Japanese architecture to inspire our own spaces. To discover more about these, I sought out Dr Teruaki Matsuzaki, one of Japan’s foremost architectural historians, who outlined the main characteristics of Japanese architecture as follows:
• Ma ( , space) 18
• Nature and the connection between inside and outside
• A sense of beauty
• An understanding of light and shadow
• The careful selection of materials (quality, source, texture, smell)
• The concept of ‘less is more’
Reiterating Makiko’s feelings about her pottery clients playing a role in the beauty of her products, Matsuzaki-sensei said that the key to aesthetic genius is leaving something unfinished to draw the viewer in. Beautiful writing leaves something unsaid, so the reader can finish it in their imagination. Beautiful art leaves something unexplained, so the viewer participates with their curiosity. It’s the same with architecture and interiors. Perfection and completeness are not the ideal, even if architecture appears ‘perfect’ in design magazines. Matsuzaki-sensei said, ‘Spaces are ultimately created to be lived in and used, and if they don’t do that well, they are not considered successful.’