There exists a well known aphorism in Japan: “everything that has a shape, breaks.” Within the scope of traditional craftsmanship, it can be interpreted as an acknowledgement that all life, including that of objects, is rendered unique when exhibiting evidence of damage, wear, or rehabilitation. As a result, the concept of “repair” is often quite distinct from that of “restoration”. This approach is embodied in the art of kintsugi, literally translated to “gold joinery”, the technical and philosophical exercise of reassembling fractured ceramic vessels with burnished golden seams. These mends do not serve to obscure “scars” created by a break. Rather, they celebrate the object’s storied history, and encourage the holder to reflect on the transient nature of identity.
Although kintsugi has been widely practiced around the world, the technique is believed to have emerged in Japan during the Momoyama period (1573-1600), its development precipitated by the opulence of the ruling class and the refinement of lacquerware craftsmanship techniques. While little evidence exists detailing the exact reasons why the technique entered mainstream visual culture at this time, it can be assumed that its aesthetic qualities and symbolic meaning was conducive to the setting of the tea ceremony, increasingly used as a vehicle for social and political exchange. In the following Edo period (1600-1868) its philosophical connotations equaled, if not superseded, its aesthetic properties. Today, kintsugi remains a well-known part of the Japanese art historical canon, something that the average museum goer or tea enthusiast has probably seen at one point, although perhaps not something that they knew had deep cultural roots.
Kintsugi: the Poetic Mend explores the methods and methodology behind this craft, while also delving into the contemporary practice of working artists. At first glance it seems to be formatted much like an art catalogue, but in reality the book follows author Bonnie Kemske’s journey in learning about and engaging with kintsugi through personal participation in the tea ceremony, conversations with artists and scholars, as well as primary source research. As a result, it reads much like a journal full of entries recounting her experiences and open-ended philosophical theory.
For those less familiar with the craft, its development, and historic presence in Japanese culture, it would be advisable to read the introduction and then visit chapters 4 and 5. The former includes an in-depth look into the materiality of the technique and its historical context, followed by an analysis of its evolution over time. The latter chapter then discusses its use in contemporary art and design, how the concept of kintsugi has transcended any one media, and can be used as an all encompassing term for a celebration of something that has broken but maintains its inherent value and aesthetic appeal.
In the remaining chapters exploring the author’s participation in Japanese culture and craft by way of kintsugi ceramics, Kemske successfully conveys the importance of tactile sensations and physical engagement (through touch, sight, or in some cases if it impacts the quality of the tea it holds, taste) with vessel in order to better understand its practical or aesthetic function. She also explores the various ways the technique has been maintained and reinterpreted over the years in interviews with a number of traditional craftsmen and contemporary artists. In this sense, it is a welcome deviation from many other texts exploring these ceramics exclusively in terms of their art historical importance, often omitting accounts detailing how they impacted the everyday lives of individuals.
As her observations on kintsugi are informed by the extensive time she spent in Japan over the years, she often draws parallels between different elements of Japanese culture and the craft to evoke possible sources of inspiration without going as far as to attempting to “prove” a connection between them. The approach is certainly suitable to the nature of kintsugi, which has come to hold different meanings for different people.
However, in such vignettes it can also be left to the reader to recognize the difference between established history and personal account when approaching the Poetic Mend, as they often are blended together within the same page. For instance, Kemske points out that the shape and aesthetic properties of kintsugi mirror the landscape of Japan, earthquakes and natural disasters creating long, organic seams. The same shapes remind her of the country’s traditional architecture, the cracks in a garden wall, the winding streets of cities, or the qualities of regional plant life. She is certainly not the only person make such connections, citing quotes from others such as:
I am on my way to Manjuin Temple for a tea ceremony event… It’s a long bus ride, so I have plenty of time to think about it. We’re coming through a residential area… The bus has stopped to pick up passengers, and on the house beside us the leaves have fallen with the early dew into the valleys formed by the rows of tiles — channels of dark gold leaves contrast the sombre tiles. The sun streams out from under the thick cloud cover, changing the dark gold lines to gleaming golden ones.
Accompanied by pictures, the reader will undoubtedly see these connections through the eyes of the writer; However, given the co-mingling of objective historical and art historical information and her own observations in the same sections, the visual similarities between Japanese geography or design could be misconstrued as “evidence” supporting her musings, as opposed to “food for thought”.
Whether approached from a philosophical, artistic, or academic perspective, The Poetic Mend is a thought-provoking read, one that can be explored non-linearly, packed with sensory details and complete with an in-depth history of kintsugi. Kemske’s descriptions of her personal experiences titillate all five senses, and speak to the consistent symbolic importance of this storied craft in the past as well as modern day contexts.