How to repair with gold. (Kintsugi 金継ぎ)

I have always had a knack for fixing things. As a teenager, I would take apart anything that could be dismantled, whether it was broken, suspected of having a minor fault, or even just on the off chance of an improvement. I dedicated myself to it passionately; my first motorcycle can attest to that...

One day, I had to look for a restorer for an oil painting on canvas, having made a purchase that required significant restoration work. Although I have always dabbled in restoring various objects, I had to stop in front of that painting because the task was definitely beyond my capabilities, especially given the importance of the artwork.

Thus, I sought a skilled professional in the field until, through friends' recommendations, I met an elderly restorer: Mr. Ottavio. Not only did he accept my commission, but he immediately began to describe in detail his intentions and the procedures he would implement in restoring the artwork. Listening to the elderly restorer, my curiosity about his work became compelling right away; so much so that I managed to get invited to his workshop for further meetings under the pretext of observing the progress of the painting's restoration.

I immediately connected with Ottavio, although I sensed from our first meeting that he was not used to having a young person interested in the world of art recovery (through the art of restoration) in his workshop. Thus, from a client, I transformed into a student, and under the guise of visits for greetings or to ask for advice, I effectively became an apprentice in the various restoration procedures: from gilding frames, to patching up canvases, to combating woodworms.

As I approached working with clay, and particularly the Raku technique, I often found myself disheartened, and not just a little, when a piece broke during production. Only later, and over time, did I understand that some breakage in Raku is almost a rule; but at the beginning of my experience, if it happened, I experienced it with great displeasure.

During one of my visits to Ottavio's workshop-studio, I revealed my passion for working with clay, and having a piece of my own work broken from the Raku oven, I asked him for advice. I remember that day very well, because as I pulled from my backpack the three pieces that originally made up a Raku clay plate, Ottavio asked me nothing, having immediately grasped my need. He opened a cabinet that was semi-hidden in the workshop and pulled out a black wooden box that, by the way he handled it, made me sense the preciousness of its contents. He showed me metallic tubes, similar to those used to contain oil paints for fine arts, but with Japanese inscriptions: thus I was introduced to Urushi lacquer and consequently discovered the art of restoration using the Kintsugi 金継ぎ or Kintsukuroi 金繕い technique.

In my case, I have always been a decisive person, of the type: everything now and immediately, I don’t give up until I solve it and without too much waiting. But the art of Kintsugi slowed me down: Ottavio taught me to wait, the slowness in proceeding, the step-by-step that forges the ability to let time pass without remorse, to empty the head to forget the worries of the moment and to give oneself only to the pursuit of perfection in the act of work that transforms into Kintsugi art. Although I must clarify that Ottavio never spoke to me about the philosophy linked to Kintsugi; for him, it was just a different technique to restore broken ceramics of a certain type. Only later did I understand the spirit and the essentiality of dedicating time to art, as therapy to rediscover the balance and wholeness of the individual, and later on, I also discovered the philosophy of Wabi-Sabi 侘寂. 

Over the years, my journey with Kintsugi has taken more or less obligatory steps: experimenting with and using tools, adhesives, and modern products. But today I consider without exception that the ancient rules of Kintsugi and the quality of the result are strongly linked to each other. Even when I pass this art on to some friends, I make no compromises: I use and have them experiment with Urushi lacquer from the beginning and use only real gold at 18 or 24 carats. I enjoy conveying the sense of discovery during the waiting period, recounting the mistakes I've made over the years while experimenting and discovering this very particular art.

I try to convey the knowledge of the products used and how I study to better proceed with the repair of the object: starting by probing the pathos that is generated, I mentally review the principles of Wabi-Sabi and try to apply them already during the preparation of the tools at the workstation. This includes just cleaning the objects, gluing the pieces, or filling them with the appropriate mixtures of Urushi lacquer, up to understanding the true added value that only the long procedure of Kintsugi can reveal.

Let's not forget that we are restoring an object with a conception far removed from modern techniques, and the goal is not just to produce a restoration, but to create a new work of art to which we must dedicate the right empathy for the element we are repairing. By understanding the damage that has altered the object, we arrive at a new regeneration of the object itself, so we will have two objects: the first new but now different because it is broken, the second recomposed and reborn to new beauty through the exaltation of its "scars," but which contains and is always inevitably the first that was.

With time and learned patience, naturally comes the reflection on the thought and philosophy embedded within the art of Kintsugi, a useful tool to understand and face the events that life brings.
And when we "break," here meaning physically or mentally shatter, we must then reassemble "our pieces," and we inevitably become aware of our fragility and limits. The art of Kintsugi teaches that all things or situations, as they have an origin/a beginning, inevitably have a destination/an end. Thus, to live the moment of repair as a transit of rebirth is to appreciate in the "break" the unique beauty that is generated in the awareness of serenity achieved when the repair is completed.
Therefore: our scars, whether of the soul or the body, will be our beauty.

Using ancient techniques or substitutes for Urushi lacquer in the art of Kintsugi should be understood as merely an illusion...

 

 

金継ぎ

Kintsugi
きんつぎ
 

 

金繕い

Kintsukuroi  
きんつくろい; きんづくろい