BANDAJI-SHAPED HAM, Joseon Dynasty（1392–1897CE）
Tax included. ｜ Flat ¥1,000 shipping (Honshu only, large items excluded)
A small Joseon-period box shaped like a half-closed chest.
This compact box reproduces the structure of the bandaji (a half-closed chest), whose upper front half opens forward. With a manageable width of about 33cm, it may be enjoyed as a case for tea utensils, small vessels, incense implements, stationery, and other small objects.
The front is fitted with a lock plate, hinges, and corner fittings, which impart a dark, subdued iron patina to the entire box. The metal fittings display simple openwork and flowing curves; though small, the piece retains the distinctive charm of Joseon furniture.
The wood surface is well worn, with a dark brown ground punctuated by patches of reddish wood. The tonal variations produced by scuffs and abrasion are graceful, imparting the distinctive patina of an old wooden box.
The interior is plain wood, showing traces of paper lining. The wear from its time as a utilitarian object remains evident, and it would also be well suited as a box to house a tea bowl, a small tea bowl, a tea caddy, an incense container, or small white porcelain pieces.
Not a large piece of furniture, it is a small chest bearing the motif of a semi-enclosed cabinet, making it easy to place on a shelf or near the floor. It harmonizes well with antique pottery, white porcelain, and wooden utensils.
Given its age, the wooden areas show rubbing, scratches, loss of finish, and wear marks. The metal fittings exhibit rust and abrasion. The front door is somewhat stiff to open and close, but remains operable. Please note these characteristics are consistent with the item’s age.
Numerous product photos are available for you to examine the details and condition. Should you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact us.
The aesthetics of the period did not favor surface-level ornamentation or technical prowess but emphasized forms and expressions that quietly supported the inner life of the individual. Objects and furnishings were not merely tools of utility—they might be seen as a kind of dōjō, spaces for self-discipline and reflection. A humble jar placed in a scholar’s study, a plain desk, or an unadorned brush rest were not only objects to be observed but mirrors reflecting one’s posture and thoughts.
It is no coincidence that the crafts of the Joseon period possess a “quiet presence.” These works were created not to impress, but to accompany the human spirit—to breathe with it and to help bring it into balance.
Take white porcelain, for example. Subtle glaze flows, the tremble of clay, slight asymmetries in shape—these so-called “unintentional phenomena” were accepted and even cherished. They reflect a broad-minded sensibility that contrasts sharply with modern ideals of perfection and uniformity. This sensibility questions the boundaries between nature and artifice, beauty and imperfection, object and mind. One could even say it was not just a way of making but an expression of the spirit of the age.
If we were to describe Joseon-era beauty, it is less a “beauty of display” and more a “beauty of resonance.” Not the charm of an object itself, but the way it creates a moment for the viewer to reflect on how to live and how to be. For this reason, the object must not speak too loudly—it must carry emptiness, pauses, and silence within. This kind of thinking seems to run through the very heart of Joseon craftsmanship.
These values would eventually cross the sea and take root deeply in Japan. In the world of chanoyu (the Japanese Way of Tea), Joseon white porcelain and buncheong ware had already begun to be used by the late Momoyama period. Their modest and quiet character offered a contrast to the stately grandeur of Chinese imports. The aesthetic sensibility of “listening to what is unsaid” in tea culture resonated with the silence and imperfection held by Joseon vessels, nurturing a gaze that would eventually find form in the spirit of wabi-sabi.
In modern times, thinkers of the Mingei movement such as Yanagi Sōetsu and Kawai Kanjirō discovered in Joseon crafts “a power that purifies” and “a form of life as it ought to be.” In an age when traditional crafts were being forgotten, these objects were not viewed merely as antiques but as expressions of a way of being—welcomed with profound respect and empathy.
Even now, when I encounter a crafted object from the Joseon period, I find myself moved by its stillness. Within it dwells the spirit of a time that asked how we ought to live and what it means to be—and that quiet voice continues to speak to us, undiminished by time.
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Tax included. ｜ Flat ¥1,000 shipping (Honshu only, large items excluded)
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