An Exclusive Interview with a Kintsugi Artist

“With Kintsugi, we witness the transformation from brokenness to beauty. Sometimes the objects become more beautiful because they were broken.”
—Naoko Fukumaru

In 2019, Japanese Canadian artist Naoko Fukumaru, who had worked on major conservation projects with renowned museums worldwide, found herself at a breaking point in her life.

Having sought refuge at a women’s shelter following the end of a 21-year relationship, she struggled with trauma, grief, and anxiety. “I was completely smashed,” Fukumaru says.

One day, she received an enigmatic email from a local potter inquiring about her upcoming Kintsugi workshop.

Kintsugi is a traditional Japanese method of repairing damaged ceramics in a way that celebrates the beauty of imperfection and impermanence by highlighting the restorations with gold powder.

Interestingly, while Fukumaru was an expert on Western conservation methods, having worked on works such as Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper, Rodin’s The Thinker, and The Tomb of Tutankhamun, she’d never practiced Kintsugi before.

Although puzzled to receive such an unexpected message, Fukumaru realized this was the path to recovery she’d been waiting for. She ordered books from Japan and worked on mastering the traditional techniques, materials, and philosophy behind Kintsugi.

This process typically takes many years to master, but with over two decades of professional Western ceramic restoration experience, Fukumaru knew that her advanced skills could directly transfer to the art and methods of Kintsugi.

A year later, Fukumaru gave the Kintsugi workshop to an eager audience that included the potter who had first contacted her.

By then, her life had turned around, and Fukumaru shifted her focus to bringing healing not only to the broken ceramics but also to their owners.

In this Q & A, the artist sheds insight into her life, Kintsugi, and the miracle of following one’s own path.

Tell us about your background as an artist.
I was born in Kyoto, Japan, to a third-generation antique auction house family. My father regularly rescued and brought back home damaged abandoned ceramics from his auction house, and every day my mother served food on those cracked or chipped ceramic plates.

Growing up surrounded by fine art and antiques, I began experimenting with broken objects at an early age, building my passion into a career. I later studied professional conservation and restoration of ceramics at West Dean College in Chichester, England, graduating with a master’s degree in ceramic and glass conservation.

I worked for over two decades as a professional ceramics and glass conservator at renowned museums such as the Detroit Institute of Arts Museum, Metropolitan Museum in New York, and other institutions in the USA, Europe, Egypt, and Japan. I feel it was my fate.

With such a rich conservation experience, what difference do you find between Kintsugi and Western traditional restoration methods?
The materials and the philosophy behind the restoration process are completely different. The European Western approach is to hide mistakes, pretending that the ceramic has never been broken.

Kintsugi allows us to accept the fragility of imperfection by highlighting these qualities with gold. This process teaches us to accept ourselves, our sufferings, and our flaws as integral elements that make each of us unique.

Like the cracks in ceramics, we come to celebrate our challenges, difficulties, and history as an important aspect of our life and identity. Our healing can be a beautiful part of who we are. With Kintsugi, we witness the transformation from brokenness to beauty. Sometimes the objects become more beautiful because they were broken.

How have you changed through practicing Kintsugi?
Kintsugi taught me to stop hiding my problems and learn to transform weakness into strength. My life opened up after that realization. Everything happens for a reason, and all difficult situations come our way for a purpose. They’re intended for us to become better, more resilient, and more grateful individuals.

Once I understood that principle my pressure was gone. I felt that I could finally be myself and enjoy life. Our differences and uniqueness are something to be proud of, and that’s been a big change for me.

How has this art form touched your clients?
Generally, I spend several months restoring each ceramic with care and love. When the owners are reunited with Kintsugi-restored ceramics, they’re amazed at how the damage transforms into beauty.

Many of my Kintsugi clients have told me, “This is more beautiful than when it was complete. I’m happy that the ceramic got broken.” To me, this was extraordinary. I never had this compliment in all my 25 years of doing hidden restoration.

In that field, the owners were still amazed by my work of making the damage invisible, but no one told me they were happy the ceramic was broken. But since Kintsugi doesn’t hide damages, we can access our mistakes and imperfections. People can overcome their trauma and suffering when they realize they can find beauty in imperfection.

One of my clients broke a teacup that was important to his wife. She was sad and angry, and while the husband regretted his mistake, instead of replacing the broken cup, he asked me to restore it with Kintsugi.

After receiving the finished cup, the couple cried with happiness. Not only was the object mended, but the husband fixed his mistake, and their relationship became stronger as a result. Kintsugi teaches us to forgive ourselves and others and to make a better world by applying its philosophy to everyday life.

Another client brought me a shattered plate. Twenty-five years before that, in Argentina, he was an eight-year-old boy playing soccer with his brother in the living room when the ball accidentally hit his mother’s wedding plate.

The fragments he gave me were wrapped in a newspaper dated June 18, 1997, the day he broke the plate. His mother had protected and brought it with her when the family immigrated to Canada.

Both brothers, now grown up, wanted to give their mother a surprise gift—her broken wedding plate restored with Kintsugi. Sadness, regret and anger from the broken plate were transformed into beauty.

Kintsugi not only repaired the wedding plate itself but also helped to mend an old mistake. The restored plate became a symbol of that family’s love, memories, and connections to each other. That’s one story I can’t forget.

Tell us more about your approach to Kintsugi.
I’m a Kintsugi artist, but I often feel like a ceramic therapist. Transforming trauma into beauty with Kintsugi is a healing process. Ceramics are very close to humans. We use and touch them daily, so they can sometimes become friends or family. When the ceramics break, people are sad. Some are angry with their pets or the people who broke them, so there can be many lingering emotions associated with the damaged piece.

My process consists of observing the objects, detecting their problems, and understanding how they want to be reborn. The spirit gets broken when the ceramics break, and I believe that treating them with love and care can bring it back. In this process, I revive the positive energy and transform brokenness into beauty.

If I fail to restore the spirit of the broken ceramics, I can’t call it Kintsugi. By restoring the object and its spirit, it sometimes also heals its owner.

What challenges do you encounter in the process of fixing a broken piece?
The most challenging aspect is learning how to communicate with the ceramics because they’re all made differently—they have their individual histories and have suffered different damage. No two are alike, so I can’t treat them all the same way.

Kintsugi shouldn’t overtake the original beauty of the objects. That’s the challenging part, but once I overcome it, beauty awaits to heal us. Some ceramics are too fragile for harder resins, so I use softer resins to avoid damaging them. That’s where my knowledge of European Western conservation is very useful.

Sometimes I can’t use the urushi lacquer for ancient ceramics because the lacquer is too strong, so I use modern synthetic materials to avoid damaging them. That’s why it’s very important to know what I’m handling. Actually, the ceramics decide how they want to be restored. I’m not the one deciding. I’m just helping.

To what extent do you bring your own approach to Kintsugi?
I’m not always following traditional Kintsugi methods because I want to use local materials. For example, some ceramics are made on a beautiful island, and the potters are influenced by nature. Therefore, I sometimes don’t replace the missing part with gold. Instead, I add seashells or barnacles or other materials that inspired the potter. In this way, I feel that I’m staying true to the spirit of the ceramic.

How popular is this art form today?
Like everywhere, traditional art forms are losing their appeal because not many people train for them. It takes 10 or 20 years to become proficient in Kintsugi, and few people have the patience these days.

In 2011, we had the Great East Japan earthquake in which many people were killed, and many beautiful objects and ceramics were smashed. Kintsugi regained popularity because people were looking for healing.

The art form is becoming more popular now, especially with the pandemic. It has also gained international traction. People have been experiencing many difficult challenges, including trauma and grief, so Kintsugi offers them hope.

In the West, we often tend to hide our problems. With Kintsugi, we find beauty in brokenness and imperfection, often turning the original object into something more special by embracing it with gold. This principle applies not only to ceramics but to our lives as well. That’s the power of this art form.