The Beauty of Everyday Things (Penguin Modern Classics)
£8.70£9.50 (-8%)
“Radical and inspiring … Yanagi’s vision puts the connection between heart and hand before the transient and commercial” – Edmund de Waal
The daily lives of ordinary people are replete with objects, common things used in commonplace settings. These objects are our constant companions in life. As such, writes Soetsu Yanagi, they should be made with care and built to last, treated with respect and even affection. They should be natural and simple, sturdy and safe – the aesthetic result of wholeheartedly fulfilling utilitarian needs. They should, in short, be things of beauty.
In an age of feeble and ugly machine-made things, these essays call for us to deepen and transform our relationship with the objects that surround us. Inspired by the work of the simple, humble craftsmen Yanagi encountered during his lifelong travels through Japan and Korea, they are an earnest defence of modest, honest, handcrafted things – from traditional teacups to jars to cloth and paper. Objects like these exemplify the enduring appeal of simplicity and function: the beauty of everyday things.
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Additional information
| Publisher | Illustrated edition (31 Jan. 2019), Penguin Classics |
|---|---|
| Language | English |
| Paperback | 352 pages |
| ISBN-10 | 0241366356 |
| ISBN-13 | 978-0241366356 |
| Dimensions | 11.15 x 2.67 x 18.06 cm |
by Ava Fai
Brilliant book. Amazing philosophy. A real pleasure to read. Absolute food for thought.
by AnnaInEurope
A meditative read, which has helped me engage with the simple, well-made objects in my home (I am no consumerist).
I’m glad I bought this paperback at a bookshop (the wonderful Daunt Books in Marylebone, London), but would like to buy a more durable, well-made hardback edition now (with a similar understated design). Please, publishers, consider one of those.
by J K Mann
Delivered as expected – not read yet
by Andie
In spite of the fact that the Amazon page claims that there are 14 reviews, some with 5 stars, only two negative reviews are displayed no matter what I do. In spite of finding this book immensely difficult to review, I wanted to offer a more positive perspective than the two I could see. I bought the book because I am an archaeologist interested in object biographies (ways of looking at objects beyond their obvious utility) and thought that a Japanese perspective, as opposed to a Western perspective, might offer new ways of looking at objects.
The book is formed of a series of essays, some of them delivered as lectures, one of them a letter meant for general publication. There is no introduction to the book, so the reader is plunged straight into the essays without any mediating explanation of what Yanagi was trying to achieve. Soetsu Yanagi is a passionate writer, and his prose is very much a flow of thoughts that tumble over one another with a real energy. Apart from his letter to Korea, which I found chaotic, his work is not incoherent, but it is, as others have pointed out, repetitive even within single essays. I found the repetition helpful, because it reinforces his ideas, but I can see that others might find it frustrating.
Tying the essays together is the concept of mingei, two words (the masses/people and craft) to form a single concept “arts of the people.” By this he means items of everyday use, created to a local standard, the product of communities rather than individuals, and embedded in tradition, skills passed from one generation to the next so that the creation of such items is instinctive. They are handmade and crafted from nature, in the sense that local materials constrain what can be achieved, but skills make the most of such materials. Such items are inexpensive, utilitarian, anonymous and produced in large numbers, but people build relationships with them as they become intimate parts of households. There is a huge emphasis on how beautiful these items are, and what makes them beautiful. The concept of beauty also holds all the essays together, and the word is repeated sometimes several times on a page. It was of great importance to Soetsu Yanagi and he comes back to it continuously.
Yanagi has a profound belief in the connection of beauty, nature, religion and the honesty of handmade, ordinary, “miscellaneous” items. He gives numerous examples, focusing mainly on ceramics and textiles, and some paintings and prints. His essay on pattern is particularly good, one of his more analytical chapters, in which he discusses the relationship between patterns and the natural world on which they are based. These essays are not a discussion, they describe a viewpoint. His view of folk art is tied up with his view on life and religion, and some of his ideas about the freedom of creativity in folk art would be challenged today.
Throughout, he questions the value and sincerity of formal art, and criticizes how art is usually analyzed. He forcefully supports the imperfect, which represents reality, contrasting it with the artifice of attempts to achieve perfection, and in particular signed pieces. He firmly rejects the everyday items produced by industry, considering them ugly and commercial, dishonest. He is concerned that the crafts of the past will be lost in the future under the tidal wave of factory mass production of disposable items, and partly to bring past and future together was the driving force behind the Japan Folk Crafts Museum, to which the final essay is dedicated.
It all feels a bit like hurtling down a set of rapids, but Yanagi’s ideas are interesting and his passion compelling. I had specific questions coming into the book, and I found it useful and enjoyable, but I am by no means certain how wide the appeal of his writing style might be. I suspect it’s a Marmite thing – you are either going to love or hate this book. I really enjoyed going along for the ride, and it was thought-provoking, which is I think one of the biggest compliments one can pay a book.