I Swear You Will Be Fine

I never thought I would be doing these things….

Thanks to Aunty M, we were led to this very interesting art. Last Saturday, Aunty M, Shalini and I spent a beautiful afternoon, very much enjoying this workshop.

Kintsugi, also known as kintsukuroi, is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer mixed with gold/ silver/ copper. It’s a technique that emphasises the breaks and repairs as part of the object’s history, rather than attempting to conceal them. It also aligns with the Japanese aesthetic philosophy of wabi-sabi, which finds beauty in imperfection and transience. A tough thing for you and me, who are usually perfectionists. The number of times I had to read and re-read your essays, and the number of times you would redo them, sometimes even submitting them, recalling, redoing and resubmitting them.

I walked into the studio knowing very little. Part of me thought there may be an “anger” or “rage” room, where we could first smash some plates. And then perhaps attempt to restore them. But this was not the case.

It was a beautiful forest green room, with various elements of black and plants. The room had 3 tables ready for the 11 participants to arrive. We were the first. And thankfully, we were on the same table. We were asked to choose a plate from the multiple beautiful ones. After much deliberation, I picked a small white one and Shalini, a blue one. Aunty M was so nice to wait for us to choose first because she thought we would want the purple one. And she finally took the purple one!

The organiser, N, started with a small talk on the art of Kintsugi, and why she started doing it, and how it could be helpful to us in this journey of life. She asked about how we all knew each other. Aunty M and I were easy- classmates from a long time ago. And then she asked about Shalini. And Shalini didn’t stumble for a second. “I am her son’s girlfriend”. Good thing the questions stopped there. But we were prepared if there were more. Shalini and I at the start of the session wondered if you would do this workshop, but agreed there was no way you would do it.

After the talk, we were brought outside and taught how to “break” our plates. With a hammer and a cloth over the plate, we had to lightly hammer on the same point. When it was my turn, I have to say I was most worried about hammering my fingers. So I kept my fingers as far away as possible, and very lightly hammered. The break was so light, the plate only broke into 3 clean fragments.

We were then taught to mix the resin and hardener with the metallic powders, and slowly bring the broken pieces together. Since I only had 3 pieces, it didn’t take me long. As I was completing it, N came to me and asked me how many members there were in my family. I fumbled and said 4. Not sure why. Was it the family I came from? Or our original family with Dad? She then sighed and said, “I thought you would say 3. Because the plate broke so nicely into 3”. I then realised, of course my family is 3. But it was too much to explain.

Hours later, we all completed our pieces, learning much more about each other. Shalini and her Gen Z attitude- “it’s nearly 5 minutes, it should be ok”. Me with my not so humble attitude- “see how beautifully it broke and came together”. And Aunty M, making a bit of a mess with the coppery gold powder at the back of her plate, and, “it’s just a plate”.

Did the experience show us that this is indeed life? We have little control of the breaks in our journey. And we need to embrace the imperfections? I’m not sure. It was a lovely thing to do, and I would love to do it with our friends and loved ones. But my take-away was more from Aunty M’s words of wisdom….”what’s the worst that can happen”. And the worst has already happened for us.

At the end of the session, Shalini and I changed our minds. We think you would have liked this. 

And so, we all now have our beautiful ceramic plates, with gold/ coppery infused cracks. I brought mine home and have placed it on your bed. I’m hoping you will come and see it.

Love you darling,

Mum