a life of its own, a life no power of the artist or craftsman could give it, no
matter how skillfully and carefully he may work. This is part of the thrill and
mystery involved in making art. There is a potential for the finished piece to
have more in it than the artist put into it. It can be a revelation even to the one
who created it.
Howard Pyle, a New Church author, artist and teacher of some famous
painters, wrote: “Make people feel there is a great deal left unsaid and that you
have much more to express . . . That will excite their imaginations and they will
see in your work more than you ever knew it contained.” (Diversity In Depth,
Wilmington, Delaware, Society of the Fine Arts, 1973, p. 17)
Wabi-Sabi
Things made by machine, uniform and perfect, are generally less prized, at
least aesthetically, than ones made by human hands. Well-worn antiques are
viewed as more beautiful than shiny new things. We are drawn to things that
are old and worn or rustic.
The Japanese have a term (a combination of two terms, really) for this:
wabi-sabi. Wabi means harmonious, quiet, humble, simple, in tune with
nature. Sabi means old, faded, rusty, weathered, not polished or sophisticated.
These qualities have an aesthetic appeal and are highly prized in Japanese arts
and crafts. (They are not the only elements of Japanese style, by any means;
highly finished lacquered boxes, for instance, are also greatly valued.)
There is a hint of melancholy or pang of nostalgia about wabi-sabi because,
in this world of time, beauty does not last. And yet, our awareness of how
fleeting it is actually makes it all the more affecting. An essential aspect of the
beauty of cherry blossoms in the spring, which are so revered in Japan, is that
they don’t last long.
The very evidence of beauty’s impermanence – the marks of wear and
old age that remind us of the transitory nature of earthly things – at the same
time gives rise to thoughts of an eternal realm in which it is permanent. A
receding tide draws the eye to the same ocean from which the rising tide came
and will come again. A fresh young tree blooming in the spring is beautiful;
but an ancient, twisted, weather-beaten, half- FVB'&