Article: Why Time Is the True Luxury: 996 Work Culture vs. Craftsmanship
Why Time Is the True Luxury: 996 Work Culture vs. Craftsmanship
Across much of the modern world, speed has become the new measure of success.
We count our worth in how quickly we work, how much we produce and how efficiently we move. But behind this continuous acceleration lies a subtle loss: the erosion of care, creativity, and authentic human connection.
The “996” work culture (named for its relentless rhythm of 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week) has become a global symbol of productivity. It fuels the logic of mass production, where efficiency replaces emotion, and uniformity overshadows meaning.
But is this the only way forward?
Not at all. At Tsukushi, we have chosen a different path.
Our philosophy is built on patience, mastery, and intention. We believe that “slow” and “few” is not a step back, but a return to what truly matters: authentic craftsmanship, culture, and the quiet luxury of time.
If you share our way of seeing things, keep reading.
When Fast Becomes Too Fast
But is this speed sustainable? When does fast become too fast? From the instant delivery of goods to the relentless 996 routine, everything is designed to move quickly….perhaps too quickly.
As technology compresses time, it also flattens experience. The hours once devoted to mastering a skill, or simply pausing to feel and reflect, have been replaced by a sterile and mechanical urgency.
This is evident in the artistic world, where the pursuit of speed may fuel economic growth, yet it drains the creative process of its soul.
Illustration comparing the fast-paced modern city with the quiet focus of a workshop.
What disappears is not only slowness, but depth, the layered understanding that comes from repetition, contemplation, and imperfection.
Depth is what allows us to connect meaningfully with our craft, our work, and each other. It is the space where creativity matures, where emotion gathers strength, and where value transcends efficiency.
Without it, everything risks becoming a surface: smooth, immediate, and forgettable.
The 996 Model: The Illusion of Endless Efficiency
Emerging from China’s booming tech industry, the 996 mindset began as a response to rapid growth and competition. It soon spread as a model for relentless productivity, drawing global attention.
Yet behind this expansion lie human costs: fatigue, detachment, and diminishing creativity, all of which ripple into the very products born from such systems.
The result is a culture that prizes quantity over quality, and efficiency over integrity. Twelve-hour days. Six-day weeks. Minimal rest.
A 2023 study from Nature’s Humanities and Social Sciences Communications journal reveals the toll of China’s 996 work culture on Gen Z: long hours, mounting burnout, and a troubling rise in psychological distress.
Image showing tired office employees working long hours under a 996 schedule.
For a time, the system seems productive, until fatigue, burnout, and detachment begin to erode the human spirit and consequently the community.
Creativity, empathy, and attention are often the first to disappear under the 996 rhythm, as exhaustion and repetition leave little space for reflection or care.
From Exhaustion to Decline in Quality
When these qualities fade, imagination dulls, details are overlooked, and the result is work that lacks precision and emotional depth, leading inevitably to a decline in product quality and meaning and beyond the office, this mindset shapes production lines where uniformity reigns and individuality fades.
First comes the mindset: repetition and overwork dulling creativity. This human exhaustion leads to mechanical production lines where individuality disappears, and finally, objects become efficient but empty, stripped of story and soul.
And there’s more….these objects may look identical, but not necessarily better or stronger. Often, the pursuit of profit pushes makers toward cheaper materials and shortcuts that erode true quality. In time, the result is not advancement but decline, a loss of substance disguised as progress. What’s lost is not only quality, but idH3.entity.
Time as the True Luxury
In the world of craftsmanship, time is not a resource to minimize but a value to honor.
Artisans who preserve sustainable, traditional methods (often within small studios rooted in generations of knowledge) follow a rhythm guided by care rather than haste. Each stage, from selecting the material to shaping, firing, and finishing, unfolds deliberately.
A subtle glaze crack, a grain shifting under light, or a curve slightly imperfect are not flaws but signatures of the maker, traces of a living hand. Within this patient rhythm, beauty is not manufactured; it is revealed.
Each piece carries warmth and quiet individuality, a reminder that true luxury lies in the devotion of time itself.
Master potter Taichi Kawai creating handmade pottery in his Kyoto studio.
Craftsmanship as Quality and Connection
Craftsmanship is more than a process of making; it is an act of meaning.
In a world dominated by automation, handmade objects allow us to reconnect with the human dimension of creation. They remind us that value does not emerge from sameness, but from individuality, emotion, and imperfection.
The Art of Quality and Uniqueness
For artisans, quality is not a checklist but a dialogue between maker and material. Each listen to what the wood, clay, or fabric wishes to become. This respect for natural rhythm cannot be rushed without losing integrity.
Mass production measures time in output; craftsmanship measures it in presence. Through repetition, patience, and skill, materials gain texture, durability, and emotional depth. No two pieces are ever identical, because no two hands move the same way.
Therefore, a handmade object holds a moral as well as an aesthetic value. It is a physical manifestation of care, humility, and mastery, a quiet resistance to the disposable logic of modern consumption.
Small-Batch Creation: Where Emotion Meets Craft
In small-batch or custom production, the artisan’s intent becomes inseparable from the object itself. When someone receives a handmade piece, they are not acquiring a product but entering a conversation, a silent exchange between maker and user.
We can then say that over time, the object records this relationship.
The patina of wood, the softened glaze, or the marks of daily use become witnesses of life shared. Unlike industrial goods, which fade or break, handcrafted pieces evolve. They grow closer to their owner, gaining character with each passing season.
This intimacy gives them not only emotional longevity but moral weight: they remind us that care endures longer than convenience.
Handcrafted black unglazed pottery Chawanmushi bowl with matching saucer, made by Kazuma Yamamoto at his family kiln in Kusatsu, Shiga Prefecture.
The Human Side of Work
Where the 996 system measures success in hours worked, craftsmanship measures it in fulfillment earned.
Behind every handmade object lies a life shaped by intention rather than repetition, a rhythm that values wellbeing as much as productivity.
Life Under 996: The High Cost of Constant Motion
Human beings are not built for unending acceleration. Under the 996 rhythms, fatigue becomes routine, and creativity erodes. Workers lose connection not only with their craft but also with their families, communities, and sense of self.
This imbalance leads to exhaustion, declining quality, and a profound emptiness of purpose. When attention is fragmented, mistakes multiply, and satisfaction vanishes. What remains is an economy of endurance rather than meaning; a system that celebrates output at the expense of humanity.
The same restless mindset spills into daily life. The expectation that every product should arrive the next day, instantly and effortlessly, mirrors the same toxic cycle of impatience. This race to receive has replaced the joy of anticipation. Yet waiting, allowing time to pass before something reaches us, is part of the beauty of value itself. When we wait for what is made with care, we participate in its rhythm. The pause becomes a silent act of respect for time and human effort.
Studies show that moments of rest and even boredom play a crucial role in restoring creativity and mental clarity.
A Forbes article, “Why Boredom (Or At Least Downtime) Can Be Good For Your Brain”, notes that psychological pauses allow the mind to reset and generate new ideas. In contrast, relentless work and the constant demand for immediacy suppresses the very imagination it seeks to maximize.
Ikigai and the Well-being of the Maker
In contrast, artisanal work restores what industrial systems remove: dignity, purpose, and connection.
Naoki Kajihara carefully hand-turning a wooden cup on a lathe, crafting one of his finely handcrafted pieces.
This balance between purpose and creation resonates with the Japanese concept of ikigai (生きがい) , the reason for being. For many artisans, the act of making embodies this sense of fulfillment: a harmony between what one loves, what one is skilled at, and what serves both self and society. Through craftsmanship, work becomes not merely labor but a source of meaning.
Within a workshop, makers see the results of their hands, feel the resistance of the material, and take pride in completion. The act of making becomes a dialogue between body and mind, a rhythm that unites discipline and intuition.
This engagement nurtures mental health and fosters a sense of continuity across generations. Knowledge is passed not only as technique but as philosophy: patience, humility, and respect for time. For many artisans, creation is not a job but a way of being, one that aligns human rhythm with the natural world.
Sustainability, Culture, and True Value
Beyond well-being and aesthetics, craftsmanship sustains communities.
It anchors local economies, protects cultural identity, and promotes mindful consumption; values that modern systems often neglect.
Cultural and Local Sustainability
Every handcrafted object carries the geography and spirit of its origin.
In Japan, for instance, regions such as Shigaraki, Seto, or Gifu hold centuries of inherited wisdom. These are not mere production centers but living ecosystems where materials, skills, and stories coexist.
This deep interdependence between people and nature reflects the principle of biophilia, the innate human tendency to seek connection with the natural world. In the context of craftsmanship, biophilia emerges through tactile materials like wood, clay, and stone, reminding us that creating with natural elements is also an act of reconnecting with our environment.
Supporting craftsmanship means preserving these fragile networks of human and natural balance.
Each purchase or commission helps keep workshops alive, encourages apprenticeships, and safeguards native materials. In contrast, centralized mass production may generate efficiency, but it erodes local diversity and silences regional voices, replacing authenticity with sameness.
Economic Flexibility and Ethical Value
While industrial systems chase volume and cost reduction, artisanal economies thrive through flexibility and purpose. A single craftsman can adapt designs, explore materials, and respond to evolving needs without large-scale restructuring. This adaptability makes craftsmanship not an echo of the past, but a model for a sustainable future.
Handcrafted pottery plate by master potter Kojima Kazuhiro of Nunobiki Kiln, showcasing exquisite hand-painted details. A beautiful representation of traditional craftsmanship and artistic heritage, passed down from father to son.
Moreover, handmade goods often possess economic longevity. They may cost more at first, but their durability and emotional depth extend their worth over time. In a world overwhelmed by overproduction and waste, longevity itself becomes an act of sustainability, a quiet form of resistance that respects both maker and planet.
Choosing the “Slow and Few” Way
To choose a handcrafted piece is to make a statement of values.
It is a conscious rejection of excess and an embrace of what endures. This is not nostalgia, but awareness—a shift toward a more meaningful way of living that honors time, skill, and authenticity.
Resistance to Mass Production
Owning fewer but better objects becomes an act of cultural resistance.
When we fill our spaces with things that hold meaning, we begin to see differently. Beauty emerges from simplicity; value arises from patience; and wabi becomes a sign of life rather than error.
This is the essence of the Japanese wabi-sabi philosophy: an appreciation for transience and imperfection. It teaches that true elegance is born not from perfection, but from honesty. In every handmade piece lies this quiet truth, a presence that reminds us of what is real.
Redefining Luxury Through Time
Luxury is no longer defined by price or rarity, but by time.
Time to think, to create, to feel.
A handmade bowl or cup embodies hours of mindful work, decisions made by hand, not algorithm. That time is visible in every curve, every texture, every imperfection that tells of human touch.
Handcrafted matchawan adorned with a delicate flower tree design and a depiction of Lake Biwa, created by master potter Taro Kojima of Nunobiki Pottery.
Even the act of receiving such an object requires patience. Unlike next-day packages that rush to our doorsteps, a handmade piece asks us to wait. That waiting becomes part of the experience, a reminder that beauty unfolds slowly. The anticipation itself deepens appreciation, turning arrival into a moment of connection rather than consumption.
In a world shaped by the 996 lifestyle, choosing to slow down becomes a radical act. It reclaims depth over speed, awareness over efficiency, and humanity over automation. The value of time, once lost to haste, returns as the truest form of wealth.
The Quiet Return of Meaning
Efficiency may drive our era, but meaning sustains our humanity.
After decades of chasing efficiency, many are beginning to rediscover that progress without depth is emptiness disguised as success. The pursuit of constant acceleration—whether through the 996 work model or the next-day delivery obsession—has distanced us from the rhythm that once gave value to time, work, and creation.
To slow down is not to fall behind; it is to return to balance. When we allow time to breathe, both people and objects regain their essence. The hands that create, the patience that shapes, the anticipation before receiving—these moments form a quiet dialogue that reconnects us to life itself.
The lesson is simple yet profound: what endures is never rushed.
When we honor time, we restore dignity to work, beauty to objects, and purpose to living. The path forward may not be faster, but it will be truer.
FAQ: 996, Ikigai, and the True Luxury of Time
Below, a few reflections to guide those who wish to understand, and live, the slower more intentional way.
What does the “996 culture” mean?
The term “996” refers to a work schedule common in parts of Asia’s tech industry: from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week. It symbolizes a culture of extreme productivity that prioritizes output over well-being, often leading to burnout, fatigue, and loss of creativity.
Why is the 996 mentality considered harmful?
While it may appear efficient, this system reduces people to machines, leaving little room for rest, reflection, or growth. Over time, it erodes not only physical and mental health but also the quality and originality of the work produced.
How is the 996 culture connected to fast consumerism?
The same mindset drives the demand for instant results in production and consumption—like expecting packages to arrive overnight. Both stem from an obsession with immediacy that undervalues patience, process, and human effort.
What does “Ikigai” mean in craftsmanship?
Ikigai (生きがい) is a Japanese concept meaning “reason for being.” In craftsmanship, it’s the harmony between passion, skill, and purpose. For artisans, creating by hand is more than work—it’s a fulfilling way of life where meaning grows through every act of making.
What does craftsmanship teach us about time?
Craftsmanship views time as a collaborator, not an obstacle. Each stage of making—from material selection to finishing—unfolds slowly and intentionally. This rhythm reveals that patience is not a delay but a form of respect for quality and authenticity.
Are handmade products always better than industrial ones?
Not necessarily in every case, but handmade products often carry depth that industrial ones cannot replicate. Their imperfections, textures, and individuality reflect the maker’s presence, creating a personal and emotional bond with the user.
Why is waiting part of the artisanal experience?
Waiting allows appreciation to mature. When we anticipate something crafted with care, we align ourselves with the rhythm of creation. The pause before receiving becomes an act of mindfulness—an acknowledgment that value takes time to emerge.
How does craftsmanship support sustainability?
Artisanal work typically uses local materials, small-scale production, and minimal waste. It sustains cultural traditions, strengthens local economies, and promotes long-lasting products that counter disposable consumption.
How can individuals apply these ideas in daily life?
Start by embracing “slow and few.” Choose objects made with intention, support local artisans, and resist the pressure for instant gratification. Create moments of stillness in your day—because meaning, like craftsmanship, grows in time, not in haste.
How is “Biophilia” related to craftsmanship?
Biophilia is the human desire to connect with nature. In artisanal work, this connection appears through natural materials—wood, clay, stone—that bring warmth and calm. Each handmade piece reminds us that creating is also a way of reconnecting with the living world around us.
