Kintsugi and My Tattoo: Embracing the Art of Imperfect Beauty

I discovered that today, September 16th is ‘Tattoo Story Day’. While I am not sure if this is a day that’s universally marked, it gives me the prompt I need to tell the story of my own tattoo which traces the line of the long raised scar from breast surgery.

Back in 2010, New York Times writer Dana Jennings wrote a reflection on the scars he was left with following treatment for prostate cancer. He describes scars as “primal tattoos, marks of distinction that showed you had been tried and had survived the test.”  

In a world that too often emphasizes physical perfection, I spent many years hiding my breast scar, until one day, I made a choice to celebrate its “imperfection.”

I sought out a tattoo artist who specialized in mastectomy tattoos, and as fate would have it, I booked my appointment on a chilly early January day in the midst of the pandemic lockdown in 2021. The choice of that date, marking the start of a new year, held deep significance for me.

The year that had just passed had been a challenging one, not just for me of course, but for the entire world. The COVID-19 pandemic forced us to confront our vulnerabilities and isolation in profound ways. It was a time of introspection, a period when the fragility of life came back to the fore again.

During those months of lockdown, as I spent countless hours in solitude, it was as if the world had paused, inviting me to take a closer look at myself and the journey I had been on since my breast cancer diagnosis. So much had happened in life —not just cancer, but a series of devastating experiences that left me carrying deeper scars, invisible to the eye.

The previous years were marred by profound loss and grief, enduring a decade of multiple miscarriages and the heartache of failed fertility treatments. In the midst of this emotional turmoil, my beloved Mum died unexpectedly of a brain tumor, leaving an aching void in my life. The grief and strain put terrible pressure on my marriage which began to unravel and broke down under the strain.

During those quiet moments in lockdown, as the world outside grew still, I was forced to confront these invisible scars, to acknowledge the pain they carried, and to find a way to heal from within. It was during this time that the profound meaning of Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with precious metals, became clear to me.

Kintsugi – Golden Repair

Kintsugi, which means “golden joinery” or “golden repair,” embodies the philosophy of embracing imperfections and celebrating the beauty that emerges from healing. It teaches us that rather than concealing our scars, physical or emotional, we can transform them into something beautiful.

The philosophy of Kintsugi carries profound symbolism:

1. Embracing Imperfection: Kintsugi teaches us to embrace imperfections and the wear and tear of life. It acknowledges that nothing remains unscathed, and that there is beauty in the broken.
2. Resilience and Healing: The repaired object symbolizes resilience and the capacity to heal and transform. It’s a reminder that even when something is damaged, it can be made whole again, and the scars can become part of its beauty.
3. Wabi-sabi Aesthetics: Kintsugi is closely tied to the Japanese concept of “wabi-sabi,” which appreciates the beauty of impermanence, simplicity, and the natural cycle of growth and decay.

I realized that getting a tattoo was about more than just transforming a physical reminder of cancer; it was about embracing the entirety of my story, both the seen and the unseen. Just as Kintsugi highlights the cracks and imperfections in a piece of pottery, my tattoo would serve as a reminder that beauty could emerge from the deepest of wounds. It would celebrate not only the visible scars but also the invisible ones—the grief, the loss, the heartache, and the resilience that had carried me through it all.

Back to that January day in 2021.

As the tattoo needle traced its path over my scar, the delicate lines and patterns of the design being inked by the artist transformed the scar into a focal point of beauty. The experience was both physically and emotionally intense, but I welcomed the sensation as a metaphor for the healing process itself.

As I left the studio that day, I carried with me a fresh sense of renewal and hope. The weight of the past had been lifted, and in its place was a profound sense of empowerment. It was as if I had shed not just the physical scars but the emotional ones as well.

Now, when I look in the mirror, I no longer see a scar. Instead, I see a work of art that tells a story of resilience, courage, and the capacity to heal. That story whispers to me that I’m not defined by my scars; I am defined by the strength and resilience it took to survive the physical and emotional devastation of the last two decades. My tattoo, like Kintsugi, embraces the imperfect parts of life and transforms them into something profoundly beautiful. It serves as a daily reminder that beauty can emerge from even the deepest of wounds.