golden thread

I printed and then tore my photographs, collaborated with a master of kintsugi. When an object, fragile, ceramic vases, breaks, it does so in an irregularly. The pieces seem hopelessly scattered. In Japan, then, it is entrusted to a craftsman who knows Kintsugi and has the the skill. From the basins of photographic development you can see the image taking shape, slowly, composing itself in the light and dark. From what is only a measured dusting of light, a shape awakens. What lies beneath that golden filament? What lies beneath the congealed moment in a photograph? What if it is a noise, or a sound? Maybe a word? The allure, or for some just the curiosity, of a technique like Kintsugi is in not being hidden. It is in the not-being-invisible; on the contrary, it is an integral part, and not simply a scar. That golden thread does not merely repair, it creates. If it is a photograph that breaks? What does the intervention of Kintsugi evoke? takes on the valences of play and reference, of reminders and echoes........and intends to suggest an invitation to question certain aspects that affect us, not only individually.