Things I subconsciously welcome into my home
When walking down the street, my eyes sometimes linger on something. It's never anything grand, but rather a small piece of furniture quietly standing there.
Everyday life is filled with interior design hints. What particularly catches my eye are the arrangements in restaurants.
Within a limited space, the owner's meticulous attention to detail is evident, and there's a subtle ingenuity in how small furniture is used.
For me, taking the time to observe every corner of a restaurant is one of life's greatest pleasures.
A chair I saw somewhere can sometimes stick in my memory. Perhaps it's because the traces of human hands having chosen and used it become part of the scenery.
Especially chairs and stools seem to possess an irresistible pull, and before I know it, I've welcomed another one into my home. While large furniture isn't easily replaced, small furniture effortlessly slips into the gaps of daily life, softly transforming the atmosphere of a space.
Not over-determining the purpose
A chair is for sitting. To state it so definitively would be a disservice to its potential.
In old European homes, chairs were said to be "movable furniture," carried from room to room and used according to the needs of the moment. Perhaps it was precisely because they weren't fixed that they brought subtle changes to a space.
In the morning, I sit on a stool in the entryway to put on my shoes. Upon returning home, it's a place to gently set my bag. By the window, it's like a stand catching the light, bringing out the beauty of seasonal flowers.
Sometimes it serves as a side table, naturally changing its role to suit the ebb and flow of daily life.
Not over-determining. Leaving room for ambiguity. I believe that very ambiguity is the charm of small furniture.
The Mizuya Tansu as a focal point
There's a spot in my house where my gaze naturally returns. For me, that's the mizuya tansu (kitchen chest).
Originally, the mizuya tansu was used in Japanese homes as a storage unit for dishes and cooking utensils. It's fascinating how the materials and construction varied by region, reflecting the local climate and culture.
The one I have, which originally showcased the natural wood color, was painted black by Mr. Ushimaru from "Wormhole Furniture."
Adding black furniture to a mortar-finished space instantly sharpens the atmosphere, giving the room a defined outline.
Before I knew it, my collection of tableware grew, varying in shape and material. That's why I wanted a gallery-like shelf that would accept them all without discrimination.
When I found this mizuya tansu, I felt a definite joy, as if I had finally touched what I had been searching for. I remember feeling a sense of destiny about its unique size and presence, which are hard to come by.
The choice to wait until you find it
Before moving to Kagurazaka, there was a period when I lived with temporary furniture. But now, my approach has shifted to "waiting until I find it."
As an editor, I realize that a book is created through an accumulation of "choices." What to keep, what to let go of. Those criteria are often based on a tiny feeling of unease or a strong conviction.
Instead of the immediate reassurance of something readily available, I now prefer the satisfaction of finding something after taking my time. Precisely because the space is limited, I've come to want to choose only those things that can stay with me for a long time.
The furniture that gradually accumulates not only organizes the scenery of my life but also seems to organize my own senses.
The reason for order
Strangely, the more favorite items I acquired, the tidier and more organized my home became.
When you have things you cherish, you naturally want to keep that space tidy. I feel that the way I handle and place things changes even before I consciously try to tidy up.
Surely, it's because I'm surrounded by what I "love."
Today, again, I sit on a chair, observing how the light enters and where the shadows fall. My favorite pieces of furniture continue to exist, creating space in my life.
I hope to continue accumulating such moments of space.
