My Wabi Sabi Cups

Wabi Sabi is a concept that I have understood without having had a name for it. Now I do. The Japanese, with their quest for simplicity, integrity, and asperity have a term that describes how I feel about material goods. I want them to be both beautiful and fulfill a need. I enjoy them more deeply when they have a story to tell. I want them to radiate with the spirit of the craftsmen who formed them.

In pottery, it is the throwing lines or the slight irregularity of its form that gives the holder a connection to the creating process. The simple truth that nothing in life is truly perfect or permanent is something to relate and ponder as you drink your tea in a hand-thrown cup.

I see Wabi Sabi in the barbed wire fence, where I visualize the hand twisting of each spike. I see it in the lathed leg of the chair, where I detect an inconsistency with the pressure applied with the chisel. I see Wabi Sabi in the accidental paint stroke on the shed’s window, brushed haphazardly as its trim was re-painted. I can connect easily to the human involved in each of these objects.

I see the transient nature of these things too: the rust, the chips, the wear. These are elements that are often thought of as defects, detracting from an object’s beauty. But the idea of Wabi Sabi is that these natural, inevitable occurrences instead enrich it. The object has become a visual example of life’s impermanence.

When I make a pot, I know it is not perfect. It is not meant to be. I hope others can experience the Wabi Sabi nature of my work and see the value in it.