Kintsugi,
which literally means “golden joinery”, is the Japanese art of mending broken pottery or porcelain with gold, or to be more
accurate, with adhesive resin mixed with gold dust. The process makes no
attempt to hide the crack but rather uses the „injury“ as
the central element for the metamorphosis of the damaged vessel into an object of a more profound appearance and adds a whole new level of
aesthetic complexity. Originating in
the 15th century, Kintsugi is
based on aesthetic ideals which evolved in the culture of tea.
What
started life within the formal system of symmetry, once it is broken this order
is disrupted. Mending the vessel in a way that calls attention to the fracture offers a
kind of rebirth but within an utterly different system guided by free
abstraction.
In this practice there is the wisdom
of accepting change and seeing that there is no permanent self to cling to. Also
it is an expression of profound esteem felt for the damaged object
through the use of a commensurately prized repair material.
As a general rule, the repaired artifact acquires far higher value and
enjoys greater appreciation than it had in its previously undamaged state. The
explanation for this can be found in a distinctively Japanese aesthetic
perception and sensitivity which, rather than considering defects, wear
associated with ageing, and imperfections in general as flaws, is able to discover
a profound and touching quality in them.
The roots of this mode of perception and sensitivity can be traced to the
aesthetic ideals of wabi and sabi, which originated in the art of poetry
and were firmly incorporated into the art of tea by the tea masters in the 16th
century. Both words are difficult to translate: the former can be approximately
rendered as “poverty and undemandingness”, the latter as “seclusion, ageing,
patina and decay”. Not strictly separated in actual practice, wabi and sabi are intimately interlinked and often interchangeable ideals
embodying the beauty that inheres in whatever is humble, simple, impermanent
and secluded.
In the
context of a traditional tea ceremonie in Japan, mended objects are seen as a physical
embodiment of the spirit of mushin, term literally translated as “no mind” but carries connotations
of fully existing within the moment, of non-attachment, of equanimity amid
changing conditions. The term is shortened from mushin
no shin, a Zen expression meaning “the mind without mind”. That is, a mind not fixed or
occupied by thought or emotion and thus open to everything. Mushin is achieved
when a person's mind is free from thoughts of anger,
fear,
or ego during combat or
everyday life. There is an absence of discursive thought and judgment, so the
person is totally free to act and react towards an opponent without hesitation
and without disturbance from such thoughts. At this point, a person relies not
on what they think should be the next move, but what is their trained
natural reaction or what is felt intuitively.
It is not a state of relaxed, near-sleepfulness, however. The mind could be working at a very high speed, but with no intention, plan or
direction.
This meeting of acceptance and care evokes
another Japanese concept, that of mono no
aware, literally “the pathos of things.” It connotes a compassionate
sensitivity to ephemera, an empathy towards, or even identification with
transient things. Mono no aware is the appreciation of
things in the shadow of their future absence. It is a rare moment
when thoughts and feelings become fully formed, the heart of poetry. It is what
we feel when we experience something that makes us exclaim “oh!” and express
our feelings in poetry, prose, art, or song.
When hosting a tea gathering, the tea master carefully chooses utensils
that make associations with nature and the season, as well as more personal
allusions to the occasion, guests, or to the tea community as a whole. Using
mended antique objects, especially those once owned by previous tea
practitioners, can impart to the participants a sense of belonging to a great
tradition that extends into the past. Investing in the expense of fine lacquer
repair represents an endorsement of the utensil by its owner and instills the
importance of preserving it for future generations.
Mending utensils is not cheap, and not all damaged objects receive such
ministrations. The owner has to decide that the piece has sufficient
historical, aesthetic, personal or social value to merit a new investment. A
newly-mended utensil proclaims the owner’s personal endorsement, and visually
apparent repairs call attention to this honor.
These precious mended objects are seen in the tearoom only
during the last two weeks of October. These days
of autumn are known in Japan as the season of nagori. It is the time of nature’s seasonal
decline, letting go of the old in anticipation of the new. Then the year’s supply of tea that had been brought out for the first
time the previous November is running low. While
only enough thick tea for three guests may be left , five are invited. And with
deep gratitude and pleasure, they make sure the amountof tea offered in the
single bowl is sufficient for each one to savor what remains of that year’s
tea. This is the strongest expression of nagori – the intense beauty of a
communal impulse to cherish and to share that which remains.
Historically significant mended
items are often accompanied by lines of poetry, which enhance the object’s mute
ability to evoke a simultaneous sense of rupture and continuity, fragility and
resilience, life before the breakage and life after.
The
aesthetic that embraces insufficiency in terms of physical attributes exerts an
appeal to the emotions that is more powerful than formal visual qualities, at
least in the tearoom. Mended ceramics convey a sense of passage of time and a message that the beauty is in the one that is looking at the vessel and not in
the vessel itself.
