Carving a New Concept of Time with Cherished Vessels
Even our most treasured vessels can break in a fleeting moment.
I, too, once accidentally dropped and broke a favorite piece. Unable to bear the thought of parting with it, I tucked it away in a cupboard, telling myself, "I'll repair it with kintsugi one day." A considerable amount of time had passed since then.
Although I had always been fascinated by kintsugi, the hurdle of handling urushi lacquer and gathering the right tools felt intimidating, keeping me from taking that first step. It was during this time that I encountered "Tsujita no Kintsugi," a kintsugi kit by the Tsujita Urushi Store in Fukui Prefecture.
I learned that Mr. Tsujita developed this kit based on his own past frustrations with commercial alternatives. Together with Shigeki Yagi, the supervising kintsugi artisan, they designed it so that "the tutorial video on YouTube serves as the manual itself." I was also drawn to its accessibility—the only things I needed to prepare were everyday household items like flour and vegetable oil. Thinking, "Perhaps I can actually do this," I decided to finally awaken the vessels slumbering in my cupboard.
Tools Filled with an Artisan's Thoughtfulness
Opening the box, I found all the necessary kintsugi tools neatly arranged inside.
In speaking with Mr. Tsujita, I learned that this kit incorporates numerous thoughtful details to make the process easier and more intuitive for beginners.
For instance, a glass plate is used as an easy-to-clean workspace. Another brilliant detail is the use of white lacquer; it makes visually gauging the thickness of the application much easier, helping beginners avoid the common pitfall of applying it too thickly.
I promptly lined up the tools on my desk and opened the video to visualize the workflow.
Hearing Mr. Yagi speak so gently about the allure of kintsugi at the very beginning, I was immediately drawn into its warm and inviting world.
DAY 1 | First, Mending the Broken Vessels
For this project, I chose to work on my broken plates, as well as a mug and a bowl with chipped rims.
First, I chamfered the broken edges using the included diamond sandpaper. I carefully sanded them down little by little so that a groove of about one millimeter would form when the pieces were fitted together. This groove, I learned, allows the lacquer to seep in later, ensuring a strong and enduring bond.
Next was making "mugi-urushi" (wheat lacquer) to glue the pieces back together.
I kneaded flour and water on the glass plate, gradually adding raw lacquer while mixing with a spatula. Comparing my mixture to the tutorial, I carefully checked the consistency—wondering, "Is this sticky enough?"—until it reached a point where it wouldn't break when lifted.
I applied the finished "mugi-urushi" to the broken edges and finally fitted the shards together. This proved more difficult than I had anticipated; I had to shift the pieces slightly, making delicate adjustments to ensure there were no uneven steps or bumps.
Despite the struggle, seeing those vessels regain their original forms after such a long time filled me with an indescribable joy.
After securing them with tape so they wouldn't slip, I placed them into a humidity-controlled box called an "urushi-buro" (lacquer bath). Here, the "mugi-urushi" would slowly cure over the course of a week.
DAY 2 | Shaving the Mugi-urushi and Filling with Sabi-urushi
One week later. The "mugi-urushi" had fully hardened, and the broken pieces were successfully bonded.
I used a craft knife to scrape off the excess lacquer that had squeezed out during bonding. I worked carefully, keeping the blade flat to avoid scratching the surface of the vessel.
Once the surface was smooth, I moved on to filling the chips and the uneven seams with "sabi-urushi" (rust lacquer).
The powder for "sabi-urushi" included in the kit contains not only standard "tonoko" (polishing powder) but also a blend of "jinoko" (diatomaceous earth powder). According to the video, the addition of "jinoko" helps it absorb lacquer better, increasing its strength and speeding up the drying process. Because kintsugi naturally takes time, I felt truly grateful for such considerate details.
I placed the powder on the glass plate, added water, and kneaded it by pressing down with the spatula. Using the video's advice of "a little firmer than toothpaste" as my guide, I added water little by little.
Finally, I mixed in the raw lacquer, completing a smooth, paste-like "sabi-urushi".
I applied the finished "sabi-urushi", making sure it deeply filled the chips and cracks. After leaving it indoors for about two hours to let the moisture evaporate, I returned it to the "urushi-buro" to cure for another two days.
DAY 3 | Wet Sanding and a Second Coat of Sabi-urushi
After confirming the "sabi-urushi" was completely dry, I wet the waterproof sandpaper and sanded the surface smooth. As I moved my hands patiently, I could feel the rough areas softening, and the surface of the vessel becoming beautifully refined.
Looking closely after sanding, I noticed there were still slight depressions and unevenness. To perfect these areas, I applied another coat of "sabi-urushi".
What I realized at this stage was how much the tiny misalignments and bumps from the beginning impact the final result. If there is even the slightest unevenness when bonding the pieces with "mugi-urushi", it becomes difficult to smooth it out with "sabi-urushi". Similarly, if the grooves aren't properly filled with "sabi-urushi", the final dusting of gold or tin will not look pristine.
As I progressed, I began to see how each prior step directly connects to the next, slowly unfolding the profound depth of kintsugi.
Once the second coat was applied, back to the "urushi-buro" it went, curing for another two days.
DAY 4 | The First Coat of White Lacquer
With the surface now perfectly smooth, the next step was applying the white lacquer. Using the provided brush, I painted a thin layer following the lines of the "sabi-urushi".
The white lacquer spread beautifully and was very easy to apply. The brush, too, was perfect for tracing delicate lines, feeling much more manageable than I had expected. Because the thickness of the application is visually clear, I could continuously check to ensure I wasn't laying it on too thick.
Once the painting was done, I let it dry indoors for a day or two. After confirming that the lacquer no longer stuck to my finger when touched, I placed it in the "urushi-buro" to cure completely.
DAY 5 | The Second Coat of White Lacquer and Dusting with Gold and Tin
Finally, the last step.
This time, I decided to use both gold and tin, selecting the finish that best matched the character of each vessel.
I applied an even thinner layer of white lacquer than the first time. After waiting about an hour for the surface to dry slightly, I used a brush to gently dust the respective powders onto the lines.
For the vessels finished in gold, the final step was polishing them by gently wiping the surface with silk floss.
As I did, the excess gold powder fell away smoothly, revealing a single, beautiful line of gold resting upon the beige lacquer. A very special sense of accomplishment—one born from taking the time to mend something with my own hands—slowly washed over me.
Unlike gold, the tin is not wiped with silk floss; it is left just as it is applied. The subdued, gentle gleam of the tin suited the expression of its vessel perfectly as well.
Unfamiliar Handwork Becomes a Cherished Landscape
In the video, Mr. Yagi mentioned, "Kintsugi is not just a technique for repairing a vessel; it is a craft that revives the sceneries and memories of the times you used it."
Actually working with my own hands, I felt I finally understood what those words meant. By dedicating time to each step and mending the pieces myself, I was able to reflect deeply on the memories I had shared with these vessels.
There are places where the lines turned out thicker than I intended, but knowing they are the marks of my own effort makes even those slightly clumsy details feel endearing. Though the vessel's form has changed due to its damage, acquiring a new "landscape" that didn't exist before it broke has made it an even more special, treasured presence in my life.
Gazing quietly at the finished kintsugi, a profound desire to cherish and use it for years to come settled deeply within me.
What should I serve on this plate next?
Pondering this, I returned the vessel to its rightful place in the cupboard.
I believe that from now on, with every use, new memories will quietly layer themselves upon it once again.
