Here at brown bag, we spent a few days mulling over what we wanted the theme of the second issue to be. Something that spoke to the lived experiences of others, of ourselves, and that lived in art. For a few days Taylor and I sent words and phrases back and forth, in a kind of stream of consciousness, until finally an image came to mind. Something that I remembered seeing on Tumblr sometime in 2013 or 2014. The image, a repaired china bowl that was not glued together as to be immaculate, where the scars of a shattered past were hidden away, but pieced together with gold. 

This always seemed striking to me. As a survivor, I had always seen myself as broken. As needing repairs to make life livable again. I never took pride in how I grew, because I thought scars were ugly. Things to be rubbed at furiously with Mederma cream and hidden away from the light of day. And then… there was this bowl. Beautiful in it’s reconstruction. Strong. A completely new entity than what it ever had been. In the words of the wikipedia article I’m sourcing, (sorry Mrs. Kline) “As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.”

So, let me tell you a little about Kintsugi, and hopefully this can be a starting off point for anyone who would like to submit work but isn’t quite sure where to start.

It is thought that Kintsugi (translation: Golden Joinery) was created out of another practice in Japan called Maki-e (originated some time between 794-1185), which was the art of using powdered gold or silver as a lacquer to make patterns and designs on a sword’s sheath or hilt, and on other boxes and wears. It was, as many things in our history, meant to denote wealth, status, and power among royal and wealthy families. 

Then, from this practice, Kintsugi emerged sometime in the 15th century as a more aesthetic way to make repairs to china sets, using lacquered gold powder rather than metal stables. This, in turn made many collectors so enthralled that they began breaking their own tea sets so they could be repaired using this technique. 

To me, this narrative of Kintsugi can be two things, a beautiful way of accepting flaws and coming to terms with change wrot from horrible times, or, like the collectors who broke their china sets, a tragic look at the motivation of others when they cause harm. Both of these things are not inherently tied together, but are not mutually exclusive. In the end, it is a matter of perspective. How one wishes to use the philosophy and aesthetic of Kintsugi to inform their own experience. 

For a more modern look at Kintsugi, I tend to think of a body positivity campaign where people would fill in their stretch marks with color, making them more noticeable rather than less. Offering that people are not broken for having a sudden change in their bodies, brought on by puberty, pregnancy, or weight gain. All of these things are natural parts of the human condition.

I hope this was a helpful introduction into Kintsugi, and a source of inspiration for how you might wish to create your own piece of art with the concept in mind. We look forward to seeing what you’d like to share, and how your work will live in conversation with all art both at brown bag, and in the world at large.