Kintsugi The art of repairing with gold: The art of repairing with gold Paperback – 28 April 2018

Do not buy this book - it is expensive, extremely disappointing and not what was shown on Amazon. It is a very visual subject matter and illustrations are of paramount importance. The preview on-line showed images in colour but that is completely misleading as the book is an inferior black and white reproduction. It is printed by Amazon and I cannot understand the poor quality of the print considering the price paid and the excellent digital printing that is available - it is 2018 after all.I recognise some of the images from my research of Kintsugi on-line where the photos are stunningly beautiful, in full colour and in focus; the photos in this poor reproduction are blurred, colourless and out of focus.This is all great shame as the author has written an excellent description of the art of Kintsugi and its history. I would suggest that Amazon changes the whole format to do justice to both the author and the subject itself.

I wish I had read the other review first - a cheaply-made book with no colour as I was led to believe it would have. Small desire to read it now!!

To me, this very short book or booklet feels like more of a "why to" guide than a strictly "how to, and with what materials" book -- and that was enough for me. Other people, who apparently expected a strict, Western-style "how to" book, didn't like the book as much as I did - and that's okay - but I want to take some time to explain what I hoped to get out of this short book; and why I rated it much higher than some people did.To be clear as to my biases and prejudices: I found out about the name of the Kintsugi technique through finding out about an art project done by a modern artist, from Japan, who considers himself a "Hikikomori": that is, a person who is (or was) "Socially Withdrawn" to a degree that, in Japan, is considered to be shameful. I was powerfully moved by online accounts I saw of Atsushi Watanabe's 2017 Solo Exhibition, called "My Wounds / Your Wounds," in which that artist created objects (apparently out of concrete) that represented a person's emotional wounds and then, damaged that physical object on purpose (to show cracks and "flaws" introduced into that object) and then the artist, rather than repairing the cracks in a Western style "hide all of the flaws" way, repaired these handmade, symbolic objects, using what his web site says is the Kintsugi style of repair work. (Given the scale of the objects, I doubt he used traditional materials, and he may have "fudged" things a bit, or so I would presume? But it moved me, regardless; and that's what art is supposed to do.)I had previously, in various books about Wabi-Sabi, heard that some items used in the Japanese tea ceremony, when broken over time, were not (as we might do in the modern West) simply discarded, and replaced, but were repaired with a technique involving pre-modern or ancient forms of natural glue; and towards the end of a lengthy process of repairing the object, and extending its useful life, the evidence of the damage was dusted with gold powder: making what was once a fatal flaw, in terms of the use of an object, or the end of that object's useful history, instead become a celebrated part of that object's continuing history.So, due to my personal research into "broken people" (and I say that with compassion and care: I consider myself to be "Hikikomori" in some ways), so due to my appreciation for hard-to-translate-into-Western-terms concepts like Wabi-Sabi, I bought this book, to take more steps down an artistic path that I had already noticed, and that I thought seemed very interesting, but I didn't feel I understood the reasons behind; or how an ancient culture, that pre-dates the Industrial Age, might have "seen" certain objects, and "had empathy for" those items. In reading this book, I'm satisfied that (as much as a modern-era Westerner is likely to be able to do) I'm "walking on that same basic path" that the ancients once did, in terms of their appreciation for items that had a history, but weren't particularly "valuable" in the minds of many people; who would, presumably, prefer a "perfect" and "new" object.While I "get" why some reviewers might focus on the "how to" part of things, and rate this book as lacking in that one regard, I feel that's not the only way to judge this book. I say that as a man with some training as a machinist; and time working for the USAF as a Data Analyst, in the 1980s: when training people on computers in the workplace was a big deal, and not many people, back then, really were comfortable with such "tech". I'm of the opinion, decades later, after those life experiences, that while technology has its place, certain things, that are much harder for "everyone" to agree upon, also have, or at least could have, a valued place in our modern lives. I think that in this day and age, a simple, homely vase that was made to only hold one flower, has a certain appeal to it. A vase such as that, once broken over time and through long use, and artistically repaired, highlighting rather than hiding the "flaws," arguably has an even more counter-culture appeal to it. As it turned out: this book is more about "why to" than "how to," but for me, that is okay. That's fine. That's what I wanted.Just because we live in a culture that has no place for "imperfect" objects, doesn't mean I can't appreciate, or try to, anyway, the idea of a simple object, made by someone's hands, and that is valued for things other than precise measurable tolerances, and a flawless surface finish. Chances are, I am unlikely to ever repair any Official Tea Ceremony cups or vases using ancient-style glues, and then, "gold plate" the repair, using Officially-Approved Ancient Techniques and Materials. That wasn't my point, in buying this book. I wanted a taste of the mindsets behind the "why" more than the "how" of such things.The value I got from this book is the "why" part of things. If I end up "doing" anything like this, in the future, maybe it'll be to "hide the flaws less than I normally would," when I do things such as work on restoring half-century-old hand tools, or the like. Having a sort of "permission" in doing so (by seeing why ancients did what they did; using the materials they had available to them) appeals to me. I'm not an ancient leader, whose favorite ceremonial cup was broken; and whose servants found ways to repair that one object; thus beginning a tradition that lasted for centuries, and is artistically still a way that some people spend their time, and appreciate the imperfections in their lives. I'm far more likely to "skip" gold-plating a repair I make, because the items I would like to keep in service, in my own life, are more likely to be things like woodworking hand planes, that once had an appreciative owner, who passed away. I can't see using gold dust as a final step in such a repair process, for practical reasons: using the repaired item, often, would be my post-repair goal, and as hard as I'd likely used things like repaired old tools, I'm betting gold dust over a repair would simply end up being rubbing off. But I could see a modification of that idea being used: say, mixing flakes of gold leaf into epoxy glue, to repair a cracked or broken tool handle. Or perhaps adding colored pearl powders into the epoxy glue, to add just enough of a visual "I like this object, and don't regret not replacing it with something newer" vibe to it: the sort of thing that only a person who is also likely to appreciate having such an object around, may notice and appreciate.While I can't see myself repairing small ceremonial tea cups, using ancient techniques and materials, any time soon, life's path can have unexpected twists and turns. If I never repair a homemade and long-lived flower vase, using gold dust as a final step, that's okay. I got enough food for thought out of the book's contents, to be able to better spot future opportunities to have what might be called "empathy for objects," and to respect their existence, and to want to look for chances not only to "keep that object in use," but potentially to add beauty into that object's on-going history. As a bonus: the book briefly introduced me (via the glossary) to the next thing I'll likely be looking into, which is the concept of "yobitsugi" or "joining pieces from different objects" -- which Westerners might see as "Frankenstein'ing" a repaired object. A certain appreciation already exists, for such things, in certain ("gear head" or "rat rod" or similar) circles, but adding an artsy layer to it, on purpose, has a certain added appeal. I already do a certain amount of stuff like using a handle from one object on one it wasn't intended for, if that seems like a good thing to do, with the materials available to me, at the time. So now the idea that ancients also did that, has an intellectual appeal to it, and an emotional vibe that seems attractive enough that I'll be looking into what the ancients did, for more artistic inspiration.This short book deepened my understanding that life doesn't always have to be about attempts at achieving "repeatable perfection". There is room for one-of-a-kind, arguably-flawed objects, with an intangible, perhaps hard-to-explain beauty that not every person who sees that object, is apt to be able to "see" or appreciate. I liked this book, in part, because I felt the author explained things to me in a human way that increased my understanding of (for instance) Wabi-Sabi concepts, and gave me ways to integrate those ideas into my everyday life. It's not a concept everyone would value, but clearly the idea appealed to some ancient people, and appeals to some modern people, who share an appreciation for "broken-ness," and age, and renewal.

good

A wonderful book to begin your understanding of the origins of Kintsugi. Highly recommended for one’s research library or simply as a book to share. It will be a mainstay for my recommendations to my gilding students.

This process needs some VERY specialized equipment-similar to a kiln, so it was informative, but nothing I will pursue. The resin for genuine kintsugi also uses a resin/lacquer made from the sap of an Asian tree/vine similar to North American Poison Ivy (Urushiol-the active oil in Poison Ivy-Toxico Dendron.) Sooo, not for this sensitive skin girl!

This is a total disappointment. I expected a great book on Kinstugi, it's more like a 65 page over priced pamphlet. Pages 1- 26 are on tea ceremonies, Japanese theater, Ikebana and Sumi-e. Pages 27-54 are about Kinstugi. The last 5 pages are blank paper. I thought I was getting a book on how to do kinstugi, this isn't it.The photos are all in black and cream. Kistugi is a very colorful art form, the photos don't do it justice. There are better books for the same price.