In the exhibition Hyakkō: 100+ Makers From Japan, the definition of wabi-sabi is broken down into its composite parts:
‘Wabi refers to the beauty found in simplicity and imperfection, while sabi conveys the quiet dignity that comes with the passage of time.’
Here, Tokyo-based gallerist Hirose Ichirō uses his 40 years’ experience of Japanese craft to explain how the concept of wabi-sabi is embodied within much of it.
What is wabi-sabi?
Donald Keene, the renowned scholar of Japan’s literature and cultures, identified four chief characteristics of Japanese aesthetic sensibilities in his work Nihonjin no Bi-ishiki (‘The Japanese Sense of Beauty’): lingering, hinted emotions; distortion/irregularity; simplicity; and fragility. In Japan, the image that springs to mind when we hear the word wabi-sabi is somehow connected to these four features.
Dictionaries tend to define wabi-sabi as ‘a perception that imperfection need not be viewed negatively; instead, beauty is found in nature, accepting and appreciating the changes wrought by the passage of time, as tranquillity appears.’ Such aesthetics may indeed seem rather peculiar to non-Japanese eyes. If we consider the opposites of Keene’s earlier description of Japanese cultural traits, we arrive at emotions expressed directly; symmetry/regularity; extravagance; and perpetuity – qualities commonly found in Western art. This inversion intrigues me, so let us delve deeper into the reversal of values.
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Nature and time
Personally, I suspect this stems from fundamental differences in approaches to both nature and time. Japan has always been ravaged by natural disasters such as earthquakes or typhoons. Nature brings abundant blessings, yet also delivers devastating misfortune. An understanding of humanity’s utter powerlessness before nature has been woven into our cultural DNA, across millennia. A similar sense of resignation to the inevitable permeates our perception of time: we adore the annual cycle of birds and blossoms marking each passing season, yet the process of aging is unavoidable, and we remain powerless to withstand time.
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In contrast, people in Europe fought valiant battles against nature, subdued it, and confronted the passage of time with great, enduring marble sculptures, proclaiming the timeless existence of art. Both are splendid cultural traditions, in my view.
It is from this perspective on nature and time that the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi emerged. We came to draw inspiration from observing how objects crafted from natural materials, such as clay and wood, reveal changing expressions when exposed to time. These changes through the years are not perceived as fading, or a loss of cleanliness, but rather as a wonderful addition which can only be brought about by nature and time, rather than human agency.
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Wabi-cha and Sen no Rikyū
It fell to the tea master Sen no Rikyū (1522–1591) to complete this culture of wabi-sabi within the world of crafts. In the early days of chadō (the way of tea), bokuseki (Zen monk calligraphy), suiboku-ga (ink-wash paintings) and ceramics imported from China – known as ‘karamono’ – were highly prized. Displaying, appreciating and appraising these items in lavishly decorated rooms was a major source of enjoyment within the practice. It was Rikyū who brought about a revolution in this culture of the way of tea, introducing what came to be known as ‘Wabi-cha’.
Wabi-cha represented a shift away from reverence for foreign culture back to Japan’s original admiration for, and affinity with, nature and time. Rikyū acted as both producer and art director for his tea gatherings. He drastically compressed the space used for the practice, dispensing with opulent decorations and staging it solely with simple, unadorned materials. For the chawan (tea bowls) which constitute a central element of the setting, he selected raku ware, created under his guidance by the potter Chōjirō. Raku bowls are formed individually by hand (without using a potter’s wheel) and fired one by one in small charcoal-fired kilns. The Chinese bowls which had previously been popular were perfectly symmetrical, with uniform, even glazes, finished so exquisitely that it was hard to believe they had been fashioned by human hands. Raku bowls, in contrast, each bear the direct imprint of the potter’s fingers, and exhibit subtle variations in form and firing. Furthermore, they develop a patina through long-term use which is much appreciated by aficionados. Chinese chawan are finished the moment they are made, whereas those created as raku ware are still alive: their wabi-sabi beauty continues to develop and they grow ever more attractive.
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Wabi-Sabi in contemporary Japanese crafts
Let us examine how wabi-sabi has been inherited by Japanese crafts born in the modern era.
Craft in Japan underwent a major shift at the end of the last century. Back at the time of the Meiji Restoration (1868), Japanese crafts had been very ‘conscious’ of European art, and focused on ‘artistic’ or ‘decorative’ items from the perspective of competing with Western artworks. Needless to say, these craft traditions included beautiful items produced for royalty, nobility, or religious authorities. At the same time, however, crafts were also used for everyday items that formed part of domestic life. The core of Japanese crafts in and after the Meiji period was the aforementioned artistic or decorative items, where splendour and technical perfection were the aim, and elements of wabi-sabi often receded into a supporting role or were dealt with merely in a formalized, stylistic manner.
In Japanese, there are two contrasting terms, hare and ke. The former refers to ceremonial occasions such as festivals or weddings, while the latter denotes ordinary, everyday routines. For a long period, modern Japanese craftsmen prioritized hare in their work, relegating ke to the background.
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However, as the 21st century dawned and Japan’s postwar prosperity passed its peak, crafts focusing on the ke aesthetic came to the fore. There are doubtless many reasons for this shift, though one may be a return to the inherent, natural forms of Japanese craft following the decline of the disproportionate desire to compete with Western art. Perhaps Japan’s economic achievements in the latter half of the 20th century had freed artists from a previously held inferiority complex – a mindset of needing to catch up with the West – and brought about a cultural maturity.
Be that as it may, in the current century, a movement termed seikatsu kogei (handcrafted everyday items) has started to attract attention. Observing its leading practitioners reveals a common attitude; they listen to the voices of their materials, avoid excessive ornamentation, and honour the beautiful changes that come with the wear and tear of daily use. This matches perfectly the culture of wabi-sabi that they have inherited, demonstrating that the ancient DNA continues to thrive amongst Japan’s contemporary craftspeople too.
About the author
Hirose Ichirō was born in Tokyo in 1948. After graduating from Keio University’s Faculty of Law, he worked in publishing and ran a restaurant before establishing the Toukyo gallery in Nishi-Azabu, Tokyo in 1987, focused on crafts entwined with daily life. Over the four decades since, he has witnessed the evolution of contemporary Japanese craft and helped nurture numerous renowned artists. With his profound expertise in this domain, he is regarded as a leading figure in the world of craft exhibition spaces, trusted by artists and industry professionals alike.