February.
The studio was cold.
The stove was burning.
A cup of tea between one attempt and the next.
The first lessons at the wheel.
Hard clay.
Strength.
Starting again, and again.
The master worked in the room.
From time to time, he looked up.
A glance.
Then he returned to his clay.
The sound of the wheel.
The rhythm on the surface.
The time of waiting.
Frustration.
Anger.
Starting again.
Again and again.
The body was learning the gestures.
Patience.
Letting go.
Only later did I give a name to what I was learning.
It was not only a technique.
It was a way of being with matter, with time, and with the gesture.
It had nothing spectacular about it.
It was made of daily work, repetition, and waiting.
Today, Wabi Sabi is often described as an aesthetic.
In the tradition of Japanese ceramics, before being an aesthetic, it is a practice.
It is a silent language that takes shape through everyday use, the acceptance of imperfection, and conscious repetition.
When I try to trace the roots of my way of working, I often return to the Mingei tradition and to places such as Karatsu and Koishiwara.
Within the Mingei movement, Sōetsu Yanagi recognised beauty in everyday objects: forms created to be used, not to stand apart.
This is a vision that continues to speak to me.
They are not models to imitate, but places where I recognised something I was already searching for.
Wabi Sabi and Mingei: a shared vision
The Wabi Sabi philosophy and the Mingei movement share a profound vision: beauty does not arise from exception, but from ordinary life.
Objects are born to accompany everyday life.
It is through use that their beauty is fulfilled.
Mingei ceramics are ceramics of everyday use.
They do not seek exception.
They seek the presence of those who use them.
They do not pursue originality at all costs, but the truth of the gesture. Each bowl, each cup, each plate carries within it the mark of a hand working in dialogue with matter, time, and fire.
In this sense, Wabi Sabi is not an aesthetic of imperfection, but an ethic of presence.
Karatsu: simplicity, gesture, and material
Karatsu ceramics were born for everyday use. The forms are essential, often asymmetrical, shaped to hold food, tea, and simple gestures. Natural glazes, free brushstrokes, drips, and traces of the fire are not corrected: they are an integral part of the work, remaining within the form.
In Karatsu, matter is not forced.
Here, Wabi Sabi reveals itself as simplicity and spontaneity, as the ability to allow matter to speak.
Koishiwara: rhythm, repetition, and community
In Koishiwara, ceramics are deeply connected to repeated gestures and community work. Decorative techniques — such as tobi-ganna and hakeme* — emerge from the continuous movement of the wheel and from a rhythm that is never purely decorative.
Repetition is not mechanical seriality, but a practice of presence. Each object is similar, yet never identical. Beauty emerges from the process, not from aesthetic intention.
In Koishiwara, Wabi Sabi takes shape as continuity, transmission, and fidelity to a gesture that moves through time.
Ceramic techniques as a practice of presence
In Wabi Sabi ceramics, technique is not separated from experience. Throwing, glazing, waiting for the kiln are actions that require listening, patience, and acceptance of limits.
Fire cannot be completely controlled. Clay responds according to its own laws. Within this dialogue, the ceramic artist learns to let go of absolute control and to recognise the value of the unexpected.
It is here that ceramics become a path of awareness: not only through the final result, but through the process that transforms the maker.
A living practice today
Wabi Sabi does not belong only to the past or to a distant place. It is a living practice that can be inhabited today, through working with clay, respecting materials, and embracing the slow time of making.
In my artistic journey, Mingei, Karatsu, and Koishiwara are not models to replicate.
They are roots that continue to nourish the way I work.
*A note on Koishiwara decorative techniques
Tobi-ganna is a technique performed on the wheel using a blade or metal tool that incises the surface of the clay while it is still moving, creating a rhythm of marks and variations.
Hakeme, on the other hand, consists of applying a white slip onto the clay surface using brushes or handmade tools, leaving the trace of the gesture visible.
Both techniques are not merely decorative. They emerge from the relationship between movement, rhythm, and matter. The mark is not added to the form: it is born from the gesture that accompanies it.
