A piece of pottery that broke, was repaired with gold, and is now Kintsukoroi. Do you see the Rune symbol?(Image shared on a Kintsukoroi post on Camiimac.)
A piece of pottery that broke, was repaired with gold, and is now Kintsukuroi. Can you see the Rune symbol? (Image shared on a Kintsukoroi post on Camiimac.)

I admit, the sheer beauty of some of these words calls me to them and inspires me into their mysteries!

Kismet, Wabi Sabi, Wu Wei (the art of non-doing), Haelu and Kintsukuroi, for example. Each has its own mystery, its own invitation to us.

Kintsukuroi, for its part, is the exquisite inclination to see the potential beauty in and then make art from the shards of something that’s broken.

As Leonard Cohen sang, “There is a crack … a crack in everything; that’s how the light shines through.”

Those working the magic of Kintsukoroi piece things back together, using precious metals like gold, silver, and I’d suggest copper, because it’s beautiful.

Why do they do this? Why do they bother with something that most others would simply discard (or recycle, if they’re so inclined)?

Kintsukuroi pottery and glassware (Hammer and Hand).
Kintsukuroi pottery and glassware (Hammer and Hand).

There is a belief, similar to that of the Japanese Wabi Sabi, that breakage, suffering, and so-called imperfections or ‘signs of wear’ give an item, or give one, a history; and that history gives a thing, or a person, or animal, or tree, its unique beauty. The wear, tear, and broken places are what makes a thing, or makes a person, interesting and gives them substance.

So, with Kintsukuroi, those stress-lines and broken places aren’t just glued back together, the cracks are accentuated with gold or silver or copper, resulting in something even more interesting and beautiful.

Memory jug lamp base, early to mid 20th century, a 19th century Albany slip glazed jug. (Full image credit on prices4antiques.com)
Memory jug lamp base, early to mid 20th century, a 19th century Albany slip glazed jug. (Full image credit on prices4antiques.com)

Some of my ancestors had a similar practice, of making what they called memory jars using broken bits of dishware, glass, trinkets, jewelry, and maybe found-objects.

I remember sitting before a memory jar umbrella stand at my great-grandmother’s house, looking at the array of treasure-bits, musing on what their stories had been before they became part of this work of folk art.

Making art from the shards — those broken bits and pieces. Not hiding what some might call imperfections, but highlighting them. Hmmm, there‘s a metaphor for you.

There’s a crazy, holy Grace to that celebration of the beauty and strength born from the broken places.

As you look at your own beautiful, unique collection of broken places, (so called) flaws, fragments, shards, (supposed) imperfections, and similar assorted bits and pieces, how might they be seen as and rewoven into your own work of art, with you the artisan of your own life?

That seems a fine question to live into in the days, months, and year ahead.

Big Love,

Jamie

Image credit link: Find the memory jar in the image here.