003: A journey through wabi-sabi and Bauhaus
Finding meaning in simplicity, imperfection, and function
Minimalism has long been seen as a design philosophy, but at its core, it is something far deeper—something that speaks to the way I experience the world. It is about learning to live with less, not out of deprivation, but out of an understanding that excess does not equate to meaning. It is about embracing imperfection, stripping away distractions, and focusing on what truly matters.
My own journey with minimalism has been mostly shaped by two seemingly opposing yet deeply connected philosophies: Japanese wabi-sabi and Bauhaus modernism. One embraces the organic, the worn, the deeply personal. The other celebrates structure, precision, and functionality. And yet, they converge on a singular truth—less is more, but only if what remains is meaningful.
Both concepts have uniquely defined minimalism as we know it today, each in its own authentic way. Beyond architecture and furniture, their influence extends across various art forms and practices. A Bauhaus poster, with its bold typography and geometric composition, serves as a striking example of how minimalism can be distilled into form and function, reflecting the movement’s enduring principles.
I want this essay to focus more on personal experiences rather than a history lesson. While I lean more toward Bauhaus, my goal was to reflect on how both philosophies have shaped my journey and continue to influence the way I see and interact with the world—as I’m still discovering who I am.
The quiet beauty of wabi-sabi
There was a time when I feared imperfection. I thought that beauty lay in symmetry, in flawlessness, in things that looked untouched and could not be more perfect. But wabi-sabi taught me that life is made meaningful by the scars it carries. I remember the first time I truly understood this philosophy—not by reading about it, but by experiencing it, with no prior knowledge of wabi-sabi.
It was an old ceramic bowl in a small Japanese tea house installation in Seattle Art Museum where a team from Japan demonstrated the entire tea ritual with macha. The glaze had cracked in fine, delicate veins, and yet, instead of being discarded, the bowl had been repaired with gold lacquer, an ancient technique called kintsugi, we were told. The cracks made the bowl unique and cherished. In that moment, I realized: imperfection is not something to hide. It is something to celebrate.
“Put simply, wabi-sabi gives you permission to be yourself. It encourages you to do your best but not make yourself ill in pursuit of an unattainable goal of perfection. It gently motions you to relax, slow down and enjoy your life. And it shows you that beauty can be found in the most unlikely of places, making every day a doorway to delight.” ― Beth Kempton, Wabi-Sabi: Japanese Wisdom for a Perfectly Imperfect Life
