Design x Death: The Aesthetics of Decay and Endings in Art
We are drawn to the fleeting, the ephemeral, the beautifully broken. There is something undeniably compelling about the aesthetics of decay—the way rust forms intricate lacework on metal, how abandoned buildings become overgrown with vines, or how a sculpture crumbles into something new and unintended. Decay is design in motion. It is time made visible. And in art, death is not just an end; it is a transformation.
Wabi-Sabi and the Beauty of Imperfection
The Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi embraces transience and imperfection, finding beauty in the aged, the weathered, and the mended. Unlike Western ideals that often prize permanence and flawlessness, wabi-sabi values the marks of time, seeing them as a testament to life’s journey. A chipped tea bowl is not broken—it is enriched with history. A weathered wooden beam is not ruined—it carries the quiet wisdom of years.
This perspective manifests in practices like kintsugi, the art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer and gold. Instead of hiding cracks, kintsugi highlights them, transforming breakage into a golden map of resilience. The philosophy suggests that flaws don’t diminish worth—they add to the story.
Then there’s tsukumogami, the folkloric belief that objects, once they reach 100 years of age, gain a spirit of their own. It’s an idea that turns the discarded into something sacred, reinforcing the wabi-sabi ethos that age is not decay but transformation.
In Japanese design, these perspectives foster an appreciation for reuse, where the worn is honored, and the broken is not useless but reborn. There is beauty in imperfection—because nothing truly lasts, and that’s exactly why it matters.
Memento Mori: Art as a Reminder of Death
The Baroque era popularized memento mori, a Latin phrase meaning “remember you must die.” Still-life paintings featuring skulls, wilting flowers, and hourglasses were not just grim symbols—they were reflections on life’s impermanence and an encouragement to live meaningfully. This theme appears throughout classical art, but one striking example is Hans Holbein’s The Ambassadors. In this masterpiece, Holbein embeds a distorted skull in the foreground, only visible from a specific angle—a clever display of perspective and a reminder that death is always present, even if unseen at first glance. Memento mori in art continues to challenge us, not with fear, but with the urgency to embrace life fully.
Digital Decay and the Aesthetics of Glitch
As we move deeper into the digital age, decay has taken on a new form. Glitch art—where corrupted data produces unexpected visual artifacts—finds beauty in digital failure. Just as a crumbling fresco reveals hidden layers of paint, a distorted image exposes the underlying mechanics of technology. There’s something poetic in this—an acknowledgment that even in a world of code and pixels, impermanence remains.
Photography captures this same embrace of unpredictability. Expired film renders colors in eerie, dreamlike hues. Double exposures blend moments that were never meant to coexist. Light leaks streak across images like accidental brushstrokes. Even the smallest digital “artefacts” in a corrupted file remind us that technology, like everything else, is not immune to time’s touch.
Decay, whether digital or analog, isn’t a flaw—it’s a feature. It reminds us that perfection is overrated, and sometimes, the most striking moments are the ones we never planned for.
Designing for the End
Some artists and designers embrace endings as part of their work. Think bio-degradable architecture, sand mandalas meticulously created only to be swept away, or performance art that vanishes the moment it’s over. These are acts of intentional disappearance—reminders that not everything is meant to last.
And then, of course, there’s the infamous banana duct-taped to a wall—Maurizio Cattelan’s Comedian—which sold for $120,000 and has been eaten at least four times (once by another artist who called it an act of rebellion, but really, he was just hungry). The whole spectacle is proof that value is fabricated, art is fleeting, and we’re all in on the joke—whether we realize it or not.
In a world obsessed with longevity, these works challenge us to embrace impermanence. Maybe the real art is enjoying something while it exists, knowing that its disappearance is part of the experience. So, whether it’s a masterpiece or a rapidly browning fruit taped to a wall, take it in while you can.
The EXP of Decay
At EXP, we explore the intersections of thought, design, and existence—where philosophy meets the tangible. Decay is not just a passive force; it’s an active participant in creativity. In architecture, adaptive reuse breathes new life into abandoned spaces. In business, outdated models crumble to make way for innovation. Even in personal growth, we shed old identities to create space for transformation. Decay is part of the cycle of creation—by embracing it, we engage in a deeper, more intentional form of design.
Yet, decay isn’t limited to the physical world. In the digital realm, erasure happens at an unprecedented pace. When President Trump began his second term in 2025, over 8,000 government web pages vanished overnight, erasing critical data. This moment underscored a harsh truth: what exists online today can be gone tomorrow.
Digital preservationists, like the Internet Archive, fight to protect our collective memory. But even these efforts face legal challenges. At EXP, we align with this mission. Our project, PLAAAY, revives lost street art through digital storytelling, ensuring that what fades can be reborn.
We’ll also be delving into the concept of Akiya (吉屋)—literally “empty house”—as we expand our B2B franchising opportunities to revitalize abandoned spaces.
Decay isn’t an end—it’s a beginning. Let’s preserve and reimagine what’s left behind.
The Art of Accepting Impermanence
Design and death are not opposites; they are collaborators. Every design carries an expiration date, whether in the slow decay of material or the shifting trends of taste. Instead of resisting this, artists and designers have long found ways to embrace it, creating beauty not despite impermanence, but because of it.
Perhaps the greatest art is not in what we build, but in how we let it fade.
