Kintsugi, souls of children

Pigment prints on Japanese paper, torn and repaired with 24-carat gold.

Photo-ceramic

Photograph on ceramic, broken and repaired with kintsugi, glazed stoneware.

 

 Kintsugi comes from the Japanese Kin (gold) and Tsugi (joint), and literally means: gold joint. This ancestral technique, discovered in 15th-century Japan, involves repairing broken ceramics with lacquer, and highlighting the scars with real gold powder. Cared for, then honored, the broken object can paradoxically become stronger, more beautiful and more precious.

This photographic series expresses the resilience, reconstruction and strength of children who are victims of violence. Using their childhood photographs, I attempt to repair the “inner children” of rebuilding adults.
Abuse, incest, harassment, female circumcision – all the people photographed have these cracks that they try to repair one day at a time, by committing themselves so that the best interests of the child are no longer an empty expression. These survivors are learning to breathe again, and to turn their wounds into guiding forces. By capturing their reflection in my lacquers, I offer them a new look at themselves. Then I print their reflection on ceramic or paper, and with knowledge of the victims’ life stories, I break, tear and repair with Kintsugi. Each piece is made with 24-carat gold.
This process of symbolic repair reflects and heals the wounds.
By highlighting their fault lines with kintsugi, I sublimate their lines of strength.
The light is too big for my childhood. 
But who will give me the answer that has never been used? 
A word to protect me from the wind, a little truth to sit on 
And from which to live myself, 
A phrase that’s mine alone, that I embrace every night, 
Where I recognize myself, where I exist.

.Alejandra Pizarnik

When I spoke out, I was told to keep quiet. When I filed a complaint, I was told it was too late. When I asked for my criminal record, I was told to wait. I still don’t know whether my assailant was confronted with my testimony, or whether I’m his only victim. All I know is that I’ve always hated that submissive little girl, so little life. Thanks to her talent, Laetitia Lesaffre has finally given me what’s essential: a child’s soul.’

Stéphanie Khayat

Journalist and writer

When I spoke out, I was told to keep quiet. When I filed a complaint, I was told it was too late. When I asked for my criminal record, I was told to wait. I still don’t know whether my assailant was confronted with my testimony, or whether I’m his only victim. All I know is that I’ve always hated that submissive little girl, so little life. Thanks to her talent, Laetitia Lesaffre has finally given me what’s essential: a child’s soul.’

Stéphanie Khayat

Journalist and writer

For so many years, I’ve been circling in my cage,

my dreams filled with murder and revenge.

Until the day when the solution finally appeared, right there,

before my very eyes, as if it were self-evident:

catch the hunter in his own trap,

lock him in a book.

Vanessa Springora

Editor et writer