Kintsugi is appearing everywhere today: gold-lined ceramics on Instagram, “kintsugi-inspired” shoes, beauty creams named after it, fashion collections referencing its patterns, and countless DIY videos. Some of these are close to the traditional urushi-based technique; many are not. But perhaps that’s the fascinating part: kintsugi has become a language that people interpret in their own way.
Instead of asking “Is this the real technique?”, a better question might be: Why does kintsugi speak to so many people, in so many forms, across the world?
To understand why, we need to look at how kintsugi was born, what it originally meant, and why this centuries-old craft still resonates so deeply today.
Although repair techniques for broken ceramics existed in many cultures, the form of repair that uses natural lacquer and gold powder, the kintsugi we recognize today, is said to have originated in Japan. Its roots trace back to the Muromachi period (14th–16th century), roughly 500–700 years ago.
During this era, the art of maki-e, in which designs are painted with urushi lacquer and then sprinkled with gold or silver powder, had already developed. It is believed that the techniques of maki-e were later adapted to repair ceramics, giving birth to kintsugi.
This evolution aligned with the rise of tea culture in the 15th century. Tea utensils were precious luxury items, often imported and extremely expensive. When such a treasured bowl broke, it could not simply be replaced. Repairs using urushi and gold powder were not merely functional; they became an expression of value, respect, and beauty.
Thus, kintsugi emerged not just as a method of repair but as a philosophy: a belief that breakage can enrich an object’s story rather than diminish it.
In most cultures, repairs are meant to be hidden. Kintsugi turns this assumption upside down by emphasizing cracks instead of concealing them. This gentle reversal of values, where flaws are appreciated rather than erased, resonates deeply in a world that often expects seamless perfection.
Across Europe and the U.S., a renewed “repair culture” is taking shape, supported by community movements such as repair cafés, visible mending workshops, and local fixing events. The rise of thrifting, secondhand markets, and the “buy less, use longer” mindset has further strengthened this shift away from disposable consumption. Repair cafés, where people bring broken items to be repaired with the help of volunteers — have spread to dozens of countries since the 2000s, becoming a symbol of this broader movement.
image: Repair Café in Nederlands, a photo taken by Ilvy Njiokiktjien
Traditional kintsugi relies on urushi, a natural lacquer harvested from the urushi tree. Each tree must grow for 10 to 20 years before it can be tapped, and even then, only about 200 grams of sap can be collected from a single tree. The craft of tapping and refining urushi is increasingly rare, maintained by a small number of highly skilled artisans. For centuries, urushi has also been used to restore national treasures in Japan, a depth and material heritage many people do not initially realize.
Kintsugi reflects the Japanese concept of “mottainai”, a quiet regret when something valuable is wasted. This is more than sustainability; it is a cultural mindset of care, respect, and continuation. In an age of mass production and disposability, this worldview feels refreshing and deeply needed.
Traditional urushi-based kintsugi can take months. Each layer of lacquer must cure slowly, and the process cannot be rushed. In a fast-paced world, the deliberate slowness of kintsugi provides rare moments of presence: time to work with one’s hands, connect with materials, and reflect. Here, the process itself becomes a kind of quiet grounding.
We live in a time of accelerating pace, overwhelming information, and disposable goods. Amid this landscape, many people are seeking grounding, continuity, and meaning. Kintsugi offers all of these. It embodies a way of thinking that honors time instead of erasing it, sees value in repair, and embraces imperfection with dignity.
For this reason, kintsugi is unlikely to fade as a mere trend. If anything, interest will continue to grow as people search for practices that help them reconnect with themselves, with materials, and with a slower way of being.
At ARTLAB TAKUMI, we hope to continue sharing the cultural and material depth of traditional kintsugi. We have recently begun practicing urushi-based kintsugi together with friends, and next year we plan to create small gatherings and workshops where people can experience this craft firsthand. More updates will come soon. We look forward to continuing this journey, one repaired piece at a time.
