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The artist in an unguarded moment |
Wabi = rustic simplicity
Sabi = transient beauty, taking pleasure in the imperfect authenticity of age
A serendipitous stumble into wabi-sabi occurred about a month ago when I got home from emergency eye surgery, idly looked down, discovered that the shirt I was wearing had dozens of holes in it, and started laughing. That’s what happens when you can’t see your shirt.
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The shirt |
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The holes |
This simple sleeveless top was originally stitched with a length of hand-dyed West African fabric gifted to me by a friend in London. Never one to give up on rotting garments, I considered my next steps. I decided to cannibalize the lower sleeves of a red cotton Indian shirt (gifted by the same friend) and cut them up into little squares. I decided on a relatively crude overhand stitch around the edges to secure the tiny patches to the shirt. I meditated on wabi-sabi, a mindset that originated with the Japanese and involves a different way of looking and perceiving. It involves acceptance of the natural cycle of growth and decay, life and death, and the imperfections that come with it. And then I started stitching..,
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Little squares, overhand stitched around the edges |
...and stitching and stitching and stitching. Every time I thought I was done I held the garment up to the light and discovered more holes.
One evening, as the elections were looming over us and tensions were high, I glanced over at the shirt hanging on a door and awaiting more patches And realized I had created an American flag - a fractured American flag. I also, with philosophical wabi-sabi serenity, realized I was never going to outpace all of those tiny holes. The shirt was done. Time to don it and enjoy the slow decay.
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Wabi-sabi shirt for a fractured America... |
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...with lingering little holes to let new light in |
As I was trying to take a photo of me wearing the shirt as the final graphic for this post, I kept tossing out photos that showed the sagging skin on my arms, the wrinkled neck, the age spots. And then I realized wabi-sabi aesthetics apply to all things, including the beauty of an aging body. I donned my power cuffs embellished with embroidered drawings my grand nieces made of scary monsters, struck a few power Wakanda poses, and am ready for whatever crap the universe throws at us next.
Artist credit: the hanging wood sculpture behind me is by Creative Growth artist John Martin