When I was a child, I was often criticized for being materialistic, as if caring about objects and aesthetics was a flaw. But what does it mean to dismiss an awareness of materials? To reject the textures, colors, and compositions that shape the spaces we inhabit? I’ve come to see that those who ridicule materialism often fail to notice the world around them—the way light moves across a plastered wall, the grain of wood beneath their fingertips, the cool weight of stone underfoot. To be indifferent to materials is to be indifferent to the environments that define our daily lives.

Materialism, in its truest sense, is the foundation of human creativity. Every piece of architecture, every sculpture, every painting, every tool—these are all made possible by an intimate understanding of materials. The greatest creators are the greatest materialists. They understand how stone holds weight, how plaster absorbs light, how wood bends, how metals patina over time. To create is to engage with materials at the most fundamental level.

Yet, materialism is often misunderstood. Some see it as consumerism, an obsession with possessions rather than a deeper engagement with craft. But material awareness is not about owning more—it’s about understanding more. The Japanese practice of shikkui plastering, for instance, is not just about covering a wall, but about breathing life into a space through texture, through depth, through the way light moves across the surface. Venetian terrazzo, polished to a perfect sheen, carries stories of centuries-old craftsmanship. Material mastery is a conversation between maker and medium, between history and future.

Nowhere is this more evident than in the work of Tadao Ando, whose architecture embodies a profound respect for materiality. His use of concrete—often seen as cold and brutal—is transformed through precision and light, turning monolithic walls into meditative surfaces. Ando’s buildings are not merely structures; they are experiences, where material and emptiness exist in perfect tension. His work demonstrates that material mastery is not about excess but about deep, intentional engagement.

There is something deeply human about our relationship to materials. We shape them, and they, in turn, shape us. The homes we live in, the objects we use daily, the spaces that make us feel at ease—all of these come from a long tradition of material curiosity and refinement. To be materialistic, in this sense, is to be alive to the world in a way that is tactile, attentive, and deeply connected to the act of creation itself.

Maybe materialism isn’t a flaw but a form of reverence—a way of honoring the world through touch, craft, and attention. After all, what is creativity if not an unrelenting devotion to the materials that make it possible?