When Wabi-sabi Meets Slow Stitching
Have you ever found yourself drawn to something that is a little frayed, a little worn, a little… imperfect—but so very full of soul?
That, in essence, is wabi-sabi.
It is not easy to define. Even in Japan, where the idea originates, it is more of a feeling than a fixed philosophy. A quiet recognition of beauty in things that are simple, natural, and touched by time.
And when wabi-sabi meets slow stitching, something magical happens.
Wabi-sabi is not just a style - it is a way of seeing the world. A way that welcomes imperfection, honours transience, and invites peace through simplicity.
It is the emotional sigh you feel in a weathered wooden bowl, or a hand-mended cushion cover passed down through generations.
Leonard Koren, author of Wabi-Sabi: for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers, describes it as having two parts:
Form – how something looks, feels, or sounds.
Spirit – the underlying truth, the philosophy of humility, impermanence, and quiet beauty.
Beth Kempton, another writer (a personal favourite of mine) who has immersed herself in Japanese culture, writes:
“The powerful secret of wabi sabi lies in seeing the world not with the logical mind, but through the feeling heart.”
And that, I believe, is where it meets slow stitching so naturally.
Slow stitching is not about perfection. It is about presence.
It is not about making something pristine. It is about making something meaningful.
Both wabi-sabi and slow stitching invite us to let go of the pressure to perform. To allow ourselves to make with feeling, not with force. To notice the tiny details - the uneven stitches, the worn cloth, the visible mend - and see not mistakes, but memories.
In one of the chapters of my Japanese Inspired Slow Stitching course, we blend wabi-sabi with boro - the traditional Japanese technique of patching and mending with countless tiny sashiko stitches. These layered cloths, repaired again and again, are stunning examples of wabi-sabi in practice: beautiful, humble, and deeply human.
You do not need to live in a Japanese farmhouse to experience wabi-sabi. Here are a few gentle ways to begin:
✿ In Nature
Go for a quiet walk. Listen to the wind. Notice the way a flower leans toward the sun or how a broken shell still sparkles with wonder.
Wabi-sabi lives in wild coastlines, crooked trees, frost-tipped leaves, and worn paths. It reminds us to slow down and look closer.
✿ In Your Home
This is something I am working on myself—making my home a reflection of peaceful imperfection.
Soft neutral colours
Natural textures: wood, clay, stone, glass
Thoughtful, uncluttered spaces
Bowls of pinecones and stones collected on walks
Handmade slippers by the door for guests
It is not about strict minimalism. It is about softness. Simplicity. Creating spaces that feel lived-in, loved, and calm.
We live in a world that often tells us we must be polished, productive, perfect.
But wabi-sabi whispers a gentler truth:
You are allowed to be a little worn. A little undone. A little in progress.
In that space - where slow stitching and wabi-sabi meet - we rediscover a sense of peace.
A rhythm that is kinder.
A life that is rooted in being, not just doing.
✿ Embrace imperfection - it tells the real story.
✿ Let things age and evolve - you do not need to fix everything.
✿ Stitch slowly, with feeling, not urgency.
✿ Surround yourself with softness, nature, and things that make you sigh with contentment.
✿ Honour the beauty of now.
If this calls to you deeply, as it does me, you may enjoy the Japanese Inspired Slow Stitched Book course inside the Slow Stitch School. It is a gentle, 15-module journey through 12 beautiful Japanese aesthetics, including wabi-sabi - woven together with traditional textile techniques and your own stitched storytelling. We even create a special komebukuro bag to keep your finished book safe and treasured.
Thank you for reading.
Let us keep finding beauty in the quiet places.
And may your stitches always be a little uneven, a little heartfelt, and utterly perfect in their imperfection.