This column shows us how love is a real minefield. From the height of my venerable age – if God consents, in 6 months I will blow out 70 candles – I reflect on the ephemeral concept of this feeling and the Japanese art of “kintsugi” comes to mind. When a ceramic object of a certain value cracks or breaks, instead of trying to hide the “imperfections” (…let alone throwing the artifact away), the Japanese craftsman fills them with a golden lacquer to create a contrast . The defect is even highlighted as an expression of the long history of that object which endures over time, a sign of its imperfect beauty. For me all this is extraordinary! Our Western society – unfortunately – is headed exactly in the opposite direction, we tend maniacally towards the ostentation of efficiency and cold perfection as a corollary, compulsive consumerism requires us to get rid of what is no longer perfect and intact: the chipped plate , the torn sweater, the pair of shoes to be resoled. And we apply this fake perfection to relationships: is something wrong? Rien goes plus! Another lap, another race. Instead of trying to assemble the pieces with something similar to the golden lacquer of kintsugi we find another companion… while it lasts. And if it doesn’t work, another round, another race. Our grandparents’ relationships lasted up to 60 years… couples who get married today have the first 10 years as their goal…
Kind regards, PIER PAOLO
Dear Pier Paolo, I am well aware of that fascinating, precious art of kintsugi. As I read it, I see the cracks become golden scars. I imagine broken objects that regain life and dignity. But this is the point: have we stopped repairing coats and relationships because we have neglected to give the right value to things or have we stopped surrounding ourselves, choosing and purchasing valuable things? We have become so accustomed to a disposable world, to accumulation by quantity, that we have abandoned quality in all its forms. It’s hard to even find the people who fix things. You no longer know who to turn to to repair a lamp, to remove a chip from a frame, to mend a sweater or change the buttons or lining of an overcoat.
Let’s throw away mother’s fur and buy three shaggy impostors who have neither history nor style but only the invincible charm of the new, ready and low cost. We have abandoned the idea that “it’s worth it”, you’re right. And we give no more dignity to relationships than to a pair of sneakers.