The tiles and sounds of the public bathhouse, the scenery beyond the steam
Bathhouse Tiles and Sounds | The Scenery Beyond the Steam
Introduction: A place to remember with sound
There is sound in the public bath.
The sound of the bucket being placed, the sound of water being poured, footsteps, laughter, and silence.
They all melt away into the steam.
The ears memorize the space before the eyes do.
And the tiles were catching the sound.
Showa-era public baths were not just places to wash your body.
It was a landscape where sound and memory intersected.
Tile Memory: Patterns and Coldness
The floors and walls of the bathhouse were covered with colorful tiles.
Blue, white, green, sometimes pink or yellow.
Geometric patterns, ripples, floral designs, and pictures of Mount Fuji.
All of this appears vaguely in the steam.
The tiles are cold.
However, the coldness of the water accentuates its warmth.
When you walk barefoot, a cool sensation remains on the soles of your feet.
It was the moment my body remembered that I was at a public bath.
The tiles were a canvas for memories.
Where a child slipped and fell, where a grandfather sat down,
Where my mother washed her hair.
Each pattern was imbued with its own memory.
Soundscape: Buckets, Voices, and Silence
The sounds of a public bath are unique.
First, there's the clang of the wooden barrel being placed on the floor.
It's like an initial greeting that resonates throughout the space.
Next comes the sounds of scooping water, running water, and the shower.
They overlap and create a single rhythm.
And the voice.
"Good evening," "It's warm," "It was cold today."
Strangers exchange words in the bath.
That sense of distance was something that only a public bath could offer.
However, there is also a sense of tranquility in public baths.
When you soak in the bathtub, the sounds become more distant.
All I can hear is my own breathing and heartbeat.
The silence washes away the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
Beyond the Steam: Seeing the Invisible
There is steam in the public bath.
It blurs vision and dissolves boundaries.
It's not clear who is where.
But that ambiguity creates a sense of security.
Beyond the steam lies invisible kindness.
Someone lend me a bucket.
Someone picks up the towel.
Someone calls out, "Go ahead."
The public bath was a place to see the invisible.
It is the sense of distance from others, the temperature of the space,
And the outline of yourself.
A Vanishing Landscape: The Current State of Public Baths
There are fewer public baths these days.
In urban areas, unit baths in apartment buildings have become the norm,
Even in rural areas, businesses are closing one after another due to a lack of successors and aging facilities.
In the past, there was always at least one public bathhouse in every neighborhood.
Now it has become a place that you can't find unless you look for it.
But the memories of the public bathhouse have not faded.
It is as a sound, a pattern, steam,
It remains somewhere in our bodies.
WABISUKE Reconstruction: Vessels of Sound and Pattern
The WABISUKE vessels and space can also evoke memories of public baths.
For example, the fluctuations of the glaze resemble tile patterns.
The sound of the wooden vessel is reminiscent of a bucket.
Blurred glass expresses the ambiguity of steam.
They are not direct.
However, it has the power to evoke scenes deep in memory.
The sounds and patterns of public baths resonate with WABISUKE's philosophy.
It is "seeing what is invisible" and "loving unused space."
This is the aesthetic sense that is at the core of our being.
Conclusion: Bathhouse tiles and sounds once again
If I could go to the public bath tonight.
I want to gently place the bucket on the floor.
I want to feel that sound reverberating through the space.
And I want to find someone's smile beyond the steam.
A public bath is not just a place.
It is a place where sounds, patterns and memories intersect.
It was a poetic landscape.
And that scene is still somewhere,
Quietly waiting for us.