'Broken'/Kintsugi

Many of us are familiar with the Japanese technique that involves repairing broken pottery with urushi lacquer and dusting with powdered gold, silver or platinum, meaning that the cracks are highlighted with veins of beauty, and the once-broken pottery is physically stronger for it. 

 

Not only is the broken item not discarded, but the break becomes part of the objects story - celebrated as part of the whole. It’s a process that allows the broken piece to become arguably more special because of the brokenness, not despite of. It’s safe to say that kintsugi has often been seen as a metaphor for life, for us as human beings: that when we break, we can also mend. That our “breaks” can be a statement of resilience, and our imperfections are part of our story. Part of our uniqueness.

We’ve been reading and musing on Katie Treggiden’s book, ‘Broken’, in the office recently, a fundamentally warm and hopeful piece of work that asks the question: “What is it about Homo faber – man the maker – that cannot resist fixing what is broken?”
 

From the very beginning of this book it’s clear that, whilst the pages are full of inspiring details and stories from remarkable makers and their work, this is not just a book about repairing broken objects. Like kintsugi, Treggiden’s book invites us to apply the same logic to ourselves, and to the world at large.

It examines our societal structures and asks: what is broken, and how? What can be repaired, and how? What part do we each play amongst all the brokenness, and what responsibilities do we shoulder when it comes to the mending?

At our core, humans are storytellers, or at least story-seekers, story conservers. We observe the world around us and weave narratives into our day-to-day. We pass tales down through the ages like heirlooms; our love of stories is so innate that we are able to observe a broken pot and see a metaphor for ourselves reflected in its cracks. The making of “things” is, in and of itself, a kind of alchemy and magic - the start of a story that is added to with every hand it is passed between, every mark, scuff and break that happens along the way. Every part that object plays in the lives of those around it.

Reading ‘Broken’ felt like reading a love letter to Earth, and the elaborate tapestry that we are all a part of, with an examination of how we can use our skills to mend and repair what has been broken, and to take care of one another and the home that we collectively share. 

'Broken' carries another important message in its pages: that the mends we forge - to objects, to ourselves, to the planet - don’t have to be invisible, or hidden, to be successful. "New" does not mean "better". Age and time and wear do not need to be disguised; mends can, and should, be celebrated.
Repair is an important part of the story, a teaching moment. Like the stories we’ve been passing down for generations, fables about the trials and errors of those of have come before, we can learn from the repairs – we must learn from them. 

The message of hope in ‘Broken’ is bold: hope that we can continue to pass this magnificent, generous planet onwards into histories yet unwritten, from gentle hand to gentle hand. It invites us to imagine a future in which our earth, our communities, are thriving, covered in the mends and repairs we have lovingly, diligently crafted.

When we revisit an object and perform an intentional act of remedial care on it, we are in some ways imbuing it with our own essence or “life force”. Honouring the life of an object, one that has passed through many different hands and contains many different stories, can make us wonder about life and its meaning. These meditations, as we mend and repair, are woven into our handiwork, giving the object new life and new meaning. And so the life and story continues. 

In the craftsmanship of artefact conservation, these life stories are integral to the repair of an object. We might ask ourselves, “what was the life of the craftsman who made this object all those years ago and what stories would they tell? What senses would be alive as they went about their work? Why was this made and for who?”. Some objects can be attributed to a person and a life. The objects that have stood the test of time, either through careful repair or because it was forgotten for a time, remind us of what has gone before and what we can do differently in the future. They are anchor points to our past, and helpful prompts in guiding our way as we navigate life’s terrain.

Much like those who have gone before us, we are careful in how we present ourselves to the world. We each have foibles and trials that we may mask. We each love and are loved for a time. We laugh and cry. But each crack and sign of wear within ourselves is a means through which we can shine and contribute to the world, much like the objects we set out to repair.     

In that sense, it is the potential we can see in things; the ability to flip the narrative and not pay too much heed to the brokenness, but to the new potential that the breakage made way for.   

What feels like destruction is often divine reconstruction. This is a hopeful sentiment that is important to listen to and hold on to, especially in times that are troubling or painful. As humans we have an inherent drive to reconstruct and rebuild. It is our remarkable ability to create and build that has made us who we are today; taking what path we find ourselves on and making the best of it. For ourselves and each other. When we hit the times that test our resilience, turning to community seems to be a intuitive action we take; for it is by being held by our communities that we are then able to restore ourselves and gain the perspective needed.

Importantly, seeing a starting point and taking one step at a time is the best way of having the new path revealed to ourselves. Have some version of the goal in sight but be ready for the curves and obstacles on the way. With each step you will learn how to navigate the path and also, what you may need to leave behind in order to progress with the journey.

Inspired to try your hand at mending and repair? Browse repair, DIY, visible mending, upholstery and more HERE.
 
Words by Maya and Rosie.