Mission Objective: Create a beautiful Kintsugi-inspired ceramic plate for an activity.

Mission Status: Technically successful.

Emotionally? That depends on which stage of the process you’re asking about.

When I first planned this activity, it sounded simple enough. Paint a ceramic plate. Seal it. Break it. Glue it back together with “gold.” Easy. Right?

Right?

…

Yeah, no.

Let’s start with the painting. That part was peaceful. Relaxing, even. Just me, a blank ceramic plate, paintbrushes, and the confidence that I absolutely knew what I was doing. After I finished painting, I coated the plate with Mod Podge to help protect the design. Everything was going according to plan. Too according to plan. I should have known something was coming.

Then came… The Hammer. Now, logically, I knew the plate had to break. That was literally the entire point of Kintsugi. Emotionally? My brain was screaming,

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! YOU JUST PAINTED THAT!”

Standing there with a hammer over something I had spent time creating felt incredibly wrong. There was a surprising amount of panic involved. Not because I was afraid of the hammer. I was afraid of overdoing it. You don’t want to gently tap it and have nothing happen. But you also don’t want to Hulk-smash it into ceramic confetti.

It’s a very delicate balance between “Please crack…” and “Please don’t explode…”

I took a deep breath. Raised the hammer. Whack.

Success! Mostly. The plate broke into about six really nice-sized pieces.

Perfect.

Well… Except for the tiny center section that apparently volunteered as tribute and completely pulverized itself. We’ll call that acceptable losses. Then came the reconstruction phase. This is where things got… sticky. The plan was simple. Mix tacky glue with gold glitter.

Instant Kintsugi.

Simple. Elegant. Pinterest-worthy.

Reality had other ideas. The glue looked absolutely beautiful.

Golden. Sparkly. Hopeful.

Then gravity entered the chat. Golden rivers of glue began flowing everywhere.

Down the plate.

Across the table.

Onto my hands.

Onto my clothes.

At one point I was fairly convinced I had accidentally awakened King Midas because suddenly everything was becoming gold. Everything except the ceramic pieces that actually needed to stay together.

The glue had one mission. Ignore the plate. Attach itself to literally everything else. My fingers were glued together. The table was sparkling. There was glitter in places I still can’t explain. I’m fairly certain future archaeologists will uncover traces of this project centuries from now.

There was a lot of trial and error.

Hold this piece. Wait.

No.

Glue that piece. Oops.

Now my sleeve is attached. Wonderful.

Try again.

Eventually…

Slowly…

Somehow…

The pieces began cooperating. The plate started looking like…

well… an actual Kintsugi project.

The golden seams caught the light beautifully. The cracks that had looked so devastating only an hour earlier suddenly became the most interesting part of the plate. And despite the chaos… Despite the glitter explosion. Despite my hands becoming permanent craft supplies. Despite enough sticky glue to build a small civilization… It actually worked.

Looking back, I realize that’s probably why Kintsugi resonates with me so much. The breaking happens quickly.

The rebuilding? That’s the messy part. It’s frustrating. Sticky. It doesn’t always go where you expect. Sometimes you feel like you’re making more of a mess than making progress. Sometimes the glue ends up everywhere except where you wanted it.

But little by little…

Piece by piece…

Something starts taking shape again. Not the same as before. Something different. Something stronger. Something with a story.

Would I do it again? Absolutely.

Would I wear gloves next time? Also absolutely.

Mission Outcome: Plate repaired. Lesson learned. Glitter now permanently embedded somewhere in my house. Sticky golden victory achieved.

Battle won.

Cleanup…

still ongoing.

-Bella Imperia

As I sat looking at the finished plate, I realized this project had become about more than glue and glitter. If want to know why Kintsugi Kintsugi resonates with me so deeply, I wrote about it in my latest Quiet Confessions post, The Gold Between the Cracks.

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