My conclusion this week? You've gotta allow room for growth and change.
Always favoring a "collected" look in my home, I was never one who wanted everything matchy-matchy, or perfect, or straight off of a showroom floor. When just out of college and newly married, we bought our things slowly out of necessity – and most of our "collection" came from estate sales, yard sales, parents. I remember I had a friend who called her look early American poverty – and that term comes pretty close to the style our first apartment achieved.
But we were happy and we loved it.
It's been almost a quarter of a century and a couple of moves later. Our style is probably still early poverty, and our current home – 200+-years-old – has been one of our hobbies for more than a decade. I have continued to get more and more interested in decorating, architecture, and interior design as the years have passed.
I've been reading more and more lately about wabi-sabi, the Japanese aesthetic that nurtures all that is authentic by acknowledging three very simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.
Sounds like my house!
Somehow, though, I think there must be much more to this Japanese term that embraces beauty that is imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete. However, I've heard the term thrown around so much lately that I'm going to pretend that I know what the Japanese mean when they call something wabi-sabi.
This, for example, could not possibly qualify as "wabi-sabi". I think this just qualifies as "messy".
Artfully-arranged clutter does not wabi-sabi make. At least I don't think so. How about this kitchen island?
As of late, I have been seeing weathered, organic objects and spaces reference wabi-sabi. I happen to like this reclaimed pine and marble piece from Williams-Sonoma [and I really want these light fixtures for my kitchen!], but I'm not sure that beaten-up wood and natural patina equals Japanese beauty.
Besides, they're making pasta here. If it were sushi, I might reconsider.
Recently in ElleDecor, talented New York decorator Sheila Bridges said she's seen enough of "earthy" stuff, and "just because something can be reclaimed doesn't mean it should be." So there!
Wabi-sabi seems to be more about imperfect, quiet beauty – always evolving. I'm beginning to think that those words might better describe the wabi-sabi attitude. Organic materials can certainly help create the mood, and the salvaging and re-purposing of materials can add to the aesthetic, but there's a little more going on here, I think.
This Pamela Shamshiri-designed kitchen was featured in the January House Beautiful issue. The article was called "The New Modern" and its author freely used the term – you guessed it...
...wabi-sabi. Oh, yeah. That's what's I'm talking about. Once you see it, you get it. Although I'm not really crazy about all the wood, this space is definitely peaceful and comfortable. Seems alive. This kitchen is constructed of weathered, re-purposed wood, which brings a certain rusticity to the space. Simple strips of wood take the place of hardware on the cabinets. Very cool.
Wow, what a cocoon this is. Now, if this isn't wabi-sabi, it darn well should be. Veranda magazine featured this room in its January-February issue. Check out that Asian-inspired lantern!
That's a gorgeous bedroom! But would one call it wabi-sabi? Decorated by Manhattan-based designer Brian McCarthy, it's definitely a mixture of periods and styles – but if loving you is wrong, I don't wanna be right. cluck! cluck! cluck!
Actually, I guess that bedroom might be a little too close to perfect, but it sure is serene. Does perfect, quiet beauty count? No, wait – imperfection is supposed to be the key.
Decorating genius Thomas O'Brien says he always strives for his spaces to feel lived in and settled; "As in dressing," he says, you want things to feel layered and less than perfect. " Does he mean wabi-sabi?
cluck! cluck! cluck! O'Brien always reminds me that modern doesn't have to be harsh and hard. When he decorates, we always get comfy, clean, and cozy. And tranquil. Sanctuary!
Speaking of sanctuary, this space is certainly a graceful, light, calming one. Wabi-sabi or not, I'll take it. Love the Oly bed! This room is part of the Town & Country Designer Visions Showhouse for 2012. Read more about the showhouse designers HERE.
I definitely like the idea of imperfection in my home. Makes things somehow easier to achieve, doesn't it? Actually, all the imperfect stuff gets more and more appealing with every birthday and every new wrinkle. I just say, "Think wabi-sabi, wabi-sabi"....
But that's another story...
From Martha Stewart Living, this sparingly-decorated Steven Gambrel kitchen features floor stone that was reclaimed from a house in Tennessee. Each slab of stone has its own organic pattern, and Gambrel, who's an architect AND an interior designer, took the patterns into account when placing the slabs. Read more about this incredible guy HERE.
Even though I didn't know anything about wabi-sabi when I first started gathering things for our home in the '80s, I think I'm a bit of a natural at the style. Especially the imperfect, evolving parts – but merely by accident.
My husband complains that I'm always changing things in the house, but now I can cry wabi-sabi. Where did the chair go? Wabi-sabi! Why did you move that? Wabi-sabi!
Doesn't he know that all my little quirks and changes and imperfections make our home unique? When I leave stacks of paper on the dining room table I can totally embrace the imperfection and call it wabi-sabi – now that I've been educated.
Seriously, though, I'm going to try to pay special attention and embrace the wabi-sabi attitude from now on when it comes to our home. I plan to continue to choose things I love, with the hope that what I choose will age well and live with us and become a part of our collected, imperfect, evolving lives.
Sort of like this! [from House Beautiful again.]
Actually, the wabi-sabi premise has worked for us for the first 25 years of our journey. We've always left a little room for something unexpected to happen. When we travel, for example, we always leave a little in our budget for a "souvenir" for our house. And we always find the perfect place for it. That way, our home is always evolving.
As are our lives. Would it not be wonderful if we could just freeze time and things could be beautiful and last forever? We could keep our children little and we could stay youthful and our parents would never grow old and things would never change?
Remember: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.
Too true.
Let's look at one more space. This room [by Isay Weinfeld] looks real and lived-in. The books make it look imperfect and in motion. A restrained palette and the openness to the outdoors [in Sån Paulo] add to the informal atmosphere. Love it.
For us and our home, a space is right when it feels right and nothing is too precious. When we're calm and relaxed in it. When it's unpretentious. When I can change it. Best of all, when our children [okay – young adults!] are in it – filling it with life.
How do you shape YOUR surroundings?
Nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.
Till next time – hope you see something worth clucking about.
