Wabi Sabi

by Beth Kempton

  What can we take from this for our own homes? We can create space. We can bring nature in. We can decide what we consider to be beautiful and integrate that. We can be aware not just of light, but also of shadow. We can choose the materials we use carefully, and we can make choices that leave us living with what we really love.

  MAKING SPACE, ONE ROOM AT A TIME

  The satisfaction of early results breeds enthusiasm so I’m a big believer in first tackling what you most often see. First, declutter main items (books, clothes, toys, files, etc.), using the tips in this chapter. Then try some of these ideas in one room at a time, in your home or workspace:

  1. Clear everything from the floor.

  2. Clear everything from the surfaces.

  3. Clear everything from the walls

  4. Now add back in slowly, asking yourself the following questions:

  • How do I want to feel when I am in this room? What colour palette will help me feel that way? (Consider the spectrum of taste shared in this chapter, and how wabisabi esque style and colours could bring a sense of calm, warmth and character to the room.)

  • What do I like about this emptier space? Which aspects of it would I like to keep clear? (If you feel like repainting, now is a good time.)

  • What could I do differently on the walls? What would be special? What has meaning or memory? (Examples of interesting things to frame include maps, postcards, inspiring words, children’s art, your art, posters, a tea towel or scarf, a sheet of beautiful wrapping paper, dried flowers.)

  • How can I arrange the furniture to make best use of the space? Is this the right furniture for the room? (Now might be a good time to sell something that doesn’t work for you, and visit a flea market, antique shop or independent furniture maker for ideas for a replacement, or try upcycling something yourself.)

  • What particular items do I already own that can bring beauty into this room? What adds a sense of story? What can I repurpose? Add these back in slowly, in small groups for interest.

  • How can I bring nature into this room, and introduce more natural materials? How can I reflect the season?

  • How can I bring in texture (with fabric, paper, rough finishes, for example) on the walls, the furniture, the floor, the ceiling?

  • If you enjoy books, how can you include them as display items? (On shelves, stacked to make a side table, three high with something on top to make a small arrangement, for example.)

  5. Now look at all the other objects you removed from the room, which you have chosen not to put back. Use the tips in this chapter to declutter and sort them.

  6. Make a note in your diary to swap things around and refresh this room once every season, or monthly if you prefer.

  7. When you’re ready, enjoy a cuppa in your beautiful space, then move on to the next room!

  Flexibility

  For those people who live in more traditional Japanese dwellings, usually in the suburbs or rural areas, their homes tend to be made primarily of wood. Walls are thin, and often flexible to allow for best use of space. Tatami -matted rooms are often multi-purpose, transitioning from a relaxation space, to a meditation space, to an eating space to a sleeping space. You can move doors and tables, lay the futon out or put it away, host people or retreat from them.

  To find out more about this idea of flexibility, I spent some time in the home of my friend Daisuke Sanada, CEO of Suwa Architects and Designers. Son of a carpenter himself, Sanada-san built his home with a little help from several carpenter friends, in a small town on the outskirts of Tōkyō. He lives with his wife, Sayaka, who is an interior designer, and their family, in a compact, well-thought-out, beautiful space.

  Sanada-san , who is descended from a famous samurai warrior, has a strong sense of tradition and vast knowledge of his country’s heritage. He brings this to his work, along with a contemporary eye and a love of cosy spaces, which help strengthen the bonds of the people living in them.

  His own home is over two storeys, the front part double height with a carefully hand-crafted pitched cedar roof and a huge triangular window at one end, which makes the trees outside feel like they are part of the house. This open area houses the living, dining and cooking spaces, with a raised section of tatami alongside a wood-fired stove creating the perfect place for his dog to curl up, for doing some morning yoga or for catching a nap on a winter’s afternoon. A simple wooden sideboard plays host to a relaxed display of crumbling Yayoi period pots dug up in his friend’s rice field. In the region of two thousand years old, they have been repurposed as simple vases and brought into the Sanada family’s daily life to enjoy, rather than being stored away like museum pieces.

  At the back of the ground floor are a bathroom, bedroom and storage room, and a ladder leading up to the chill-out area and further sleeping space on the mezzanine above. This upper section is divided up using flexible furniture, such as moveable bookcases and fabric curtains hung from the roof, to allow for privacy or company, depending on the day. The result is a welcoming home that supports the lifestyle Sanada-san and his family want. It is stylish, yet practical, and soulfully simple.

  Sanada-san and I spent many hours talking about the value of contrast and relationship in Japanese life: how beauty is found in the existence of tension; light and shadow; sound and silence; simplicity and detail; sublime and ordinary; presence and absence; freedom and restraint; wabi and sabi . We talked about how beauty often arises in the middle of things – a conversation, a lifetime, a walk in the woods. And how everything is connected – everything within a space, the inside and the outside, our surroundings and our minds, in our relationships with each other and ourselves in the web of nature.

  Those of us who do not live in Japanese-style homes can still be inspired by these ideas. We can divide up our spaces with the placement of our furniture, rugs and shelving, and move things around regularly, depending on how we want to use the space, acknowledging that it is never ‘finished’ and we aren’t aiming for perfection. We can repaint walls, swap out displays, bring in some seasonal flowers and plants, and refresh whenever the mood arises. We can pay attention to the visual contrasts, and the relationships between what we see and how we feel. A window is not just a window – it is a frame for all that lies beyond it. A shelf on one side of the room may be a balance for something on the other. Notice how individual things in a room affect others, and how things work together, with the space, the flow, how you live and how it makes you feel.

  Remember: utility, simplicity, beauty, story.

  HOW TO INSPIRE SOULFUL SHOPPING

  How can you look at the spiralling excess and waste, and the poisonous culture of comparison, and decide to do things differently? How can you be quietly radical like Sen no Rikyū (see p. 13 )? How can you be an advocate for something that feels more real?

  The most soulful shopping of all is that which costs nothing, and only inflates what you own with natural beauty. Try spending time in nature, collecting gifts from the forest, or creating with your hands instead of buying.

  When you are considering buying something new, ask yourself these questions:

  • Do I really need it? Do I already own something that can do the job? Am I actually going to use it?

  • Do I love it? Will I still want it twenty-four hours from now? A year from now? There is a beauty in longing. Can I wait a while for it, to make sure I really want it?

  • Does it serve the season of life I am in right now (or in buying it, am I trying to hold on to the past or pressuring myself into a particular version of my life in the future)?

  • Does it work with the other things I own?

  • Will it help me use my space more flexibly?

  • Is this something I could get for free by borrowing or trading?

  • What am I willing to get rid of to make space for this?

  • What will I have to sacrifice to pay for this? Is it worth it?

  • Is it made of natural materials? If not, is there a version
that is?

  • Is it worth paying a little more to get a version that will last?

  Nature

  Nature is an essential element of a wabi-sabi -inspired home, as it connects to the deepest part of the whole wabi sabi philosophy, reminding us of the transient nature of life. We will explore nature and the seasons in detail in Chapter 3 . For now, consider how you can bring more natural materials into your home. For example, wood with a rough grain, bamboo, clay, stone, dull metals, handmade paper or textures woven from natural fibres. One of my favourite treasures is the old wooden rice bucket we use for storing firewood. Be creative with your ideas. Upcycle. Repurpose. Spend time at flea markets and in vintage and antique shops. Age often adds depth and beauty to natural materials, so don’t assume you have to buy new.

  Spontaneity is to be encouraged. I often mix up potted herbs and bottles of oil in the metal containers hanging in my kitchen. I might use washi tape (low-tack masking tape made from Japanese paper) to stick some fallen nature treasures onto the wall, or put up a makeshift collage of photos alongside my children’s bark rubbings and leaf prints.

  Cut flowers can brighten up a space. Try leaving them a little longer than their peak, and notice the beauty in their fading. It can also be refreshing to embrace a little wildness, using wildflowers and found objects. Even pretty weeds. Go outside and take a look at what nature is offering you in this particular season. What gifts from the forest, or wood, or hedgerow or beach could you bring back into your home? Fallen leaves, berries, conkers, acorns, seed pods, shells, driftwood and feathers all carry the spirit of nature and of wabi sabi .

  Try incorporating some of these natural items into grouped displays in corners of your home, perhaps paired with a favourite book and some old glasses, or your vintage typewriter and a stack of old ribbon. A sprig of winter berries in a small jug. A handful of snowdrops from your own garden. A string of fairy lights on a fallen branch.

  Details

  Attention to detail is something you notice everywhere in Japan. In cafés, in shops, in homes, in temples and shrines, even in public spaces, someone has taken care to add a small detail. These details add to the interest of a space, and can really make it yours.

  We have a double-height window on our staircase, which used to have long, heavy curtains. They were there when we moved in, and I was loath to remove them because they looked like they had cost the previous owners a lot of money, and to take them down would be a waste. But I went up and down those stairs several times a day, and every time I passed the curtains I felt a little bit resentful. In the end, I realised I was being ridiculous. It was our house now, and we could use it however we wanted. So I took the curtains down.

  Instantly, the hallway was flooded with natural light. In time, I would discover that at other times of day, the windows would throw interesting shadows onto the landing. Now we could see the deep, wide windowsill, I unwrapped an old, mottled ceramic sake bottle, gifted from a friend when I left Japan, and repurposed it as a vase with a single flower from the garden. Next to it I set out pebbles from the beach, treasure hunted by small hands on a windy day, and I finished it off with a simple postcard which said, ‘There is a lot of beauty in ordinary things.’

  My little arrangement sits on the right-hand side of the windowsill, with empty space on the left. Every now and then, I’ll swap out the flower and the postcard, pile up the stones or move them around. It is my kind of beautiful and offers a moment of stillness every time I go up or down the stairs.

  Where could you create pockets of serenity and beauty around your home?

  TEN PRINCIPLES FOR A WABI-SABI -INSPIRED HOME

  Below is a summary of my ten key principles for a wabi-sabi- inspired home. While wabisabi esque objects have a role to play, they are not the full picture. The philosophy of wabi sabi is the guide here. It’s perfectly fine for your home to be a work in progress. Real life is not like design magazines. A home is to be lived in, so there’s no need to wait until everything is finished before you invite your friends round to enjoy time together.

  1. Make the most of your entranceway, which is called a genkan in Japan. Tidy out-of-season coats away. Put out some flowers. Invite visitors to leave their shoes at the door, Japan-style (and try to encourage anyone who lives with you to make it a habit). Stack shoes on shelves or in a shoebox, or perhaps under the stairs. You might want to offer guests house slippers if the floor is cold. This keeps everywhere cleaner, and gives an immediate sense of comfort and familiarity.

  2. Decluttering saves you time and money, and makes space to appreciate the things you really love. However, stark minimalism is another kind of perfection. Go for soulful simplicity instead. Think clean, uncluttered and welcoming.

  3. Experiment with natural matte materials like wood, clay and stone in your home, and natural fabrics for bedlinen, clothing and kitchenware. See how these bring a sense of character and calm. The eye and the imagination love imperfection, asymmetry and non-uniform surfaces.

  4. Consider how you can bring actual nature into your space, with flowers, branches, seed pods, feathers, leaves, shells, pebbles, handmade wreaths, woven baskets and so on. Discover the joy of finding and styling these yourself, creating visual poetry with the gifts of the land and sea.

  5. Keep both light and shadow in mind, noting how the contrast changes your space at different times of day. Embrace low light and darkness when it suits the season and your mood.

  6. Consider all the five senses in your space. This depends on where you live and the kind of space you have, but it can include anything from opening a window for the breeze to using textured fabrics on your furniture, from diffusing essential oils to playing calming music. You can even consider the sense of taste, such as using fruit and vegetables within your simple displays, or adding details to make your breakfast table feel extra special.

  7. Curate things you really treasure to decorate your space and nurture it with story and memory. Think about contrasts: past and present, grounding and inspiring, ordinary and special. Where possible, be creative with what you have, or repurpose items that have had a previous life.

  8. Think about the importance of relationship and visual harmony. How do things look and feel in relation to other things in the room and the space itself. What is framed by your windows and internal doorways? What is on full view and what is partly hidden, hinting at something else beyond? What different textures are bringing character and warmth to the space?

  9. Create tiny corners of beauty in unexpected places. A small vase on a windowsill. A handwritten note in the bathroom. A framed photograph under the stairs.

  10. Notice how you need to use the space differently depending on the season of the year, and the season of your life.

  Sharing your space

  Writing in the nineteenth century, Lafcadio Hearn 19 famously said about Japan: ‘The commonest incidents of everyday life are transfigured by a courtesy at once so artless and faultless that it appears to spring directly from the heart, without any teaching.’ 20 This attention to the moment and the recipient’s needs is at the heart of omotenashi , Japanese hospitality.

  If you have ever spent time at a Japanese ryokan (traditional inn) you will know that the sense of deep relaxation comes not just from the healing waters of the cedar bath, or the cosy warmth of your futon , but from the bowing and quiet attentiveness, and the delicate care wrapped in the phrase goyukkuri dōzo (‘Please, take your time’).

  Ichi-go ichi-e ( ) is a well-loved phrase that often appears on hanging calligraphy scrolls in the alcoves of tea-ceremony rooms. It means ‘this meeting, this time only’ and is used to remind people to treasure this particular experience as it will never be repeated. If someone hosts you at their home in Japan, however casual the event, you will likely feel incredibly well looked after. This warmhearted and sincere hospitality is not just displayed in the food and drink you are offered but in the warmth of the welcome, the attention to detail and the presence of the host. Yo
ur host might say, ‘Dōzo, omeshiagari kudasai ’ (a polite way to say ‘Please begin’), and you might respond with a bow and the word ‘Itadakimasu ’, (meaning ‘I humbly receive this with deep appreciation’). This ritual is a lovely way to begin a shared meal.

  Wabi-sabi -inspired hospitality is not about having a perfectly tidy house, all designer furniture or perfectly well-behaved children. It’s about sharing your home in a relaxed, thoughtful way, and being sensitive to your guests. Having said that, we must not forget that the embodiment of wabi sabi is the tea house, which is often modest, unassuming, spotlessly clean and bare other than for what has been prepared for the guests. This reminds us to make our spaces clean, uncluttered and welcoming, as far as is possible within the context of our daily lives.

  Think of the kind of words used to describe the visual wabisabi esque – natural, humble, understated. These are the opposite of slaving over a hot stove all night to deliver the perfect gourmet six-course dinner to impress your friends, panicking when you burn the main dish and obsessing about the fact you forgot to make a dressing, while missing out on the real conversation.

  Pay attention to small details to make your guests feel at home – their favourite drink, fresh flowers on the table, your treasured heirloom tablecloth, something nourishing to eat, cosy slippers, a blanket for stargazing on a chilly night. What really matters is paying attention, lending your ears and sharing the moment.