We weren't meant to be well known.

We were the underground.

A shattered bowl...

But in his hands, whole again.

This man is an art restorer.

Even the most serious damage vanishes, thanks to his skills.

We can hardly tell where it was fixed.

What kind of jobs have you refused?

Someone asked me to fix up a cadaver.

His work long existed as a carefully guarded secret.

Calling it "top secret" may be a little dramatic.

But we don't normally show the work to others,
or reveal that we did it.

People call him "The God Hand."

Their latest request takes them to London.

There it is!

It might be the greatest vase
in the history of mankind.

They've come to see a Chinese flower vase that was made for an emperor.

If such a vase came to market today, I think it would fetch a top price, if I would say,

so if anything, I would imagine, between 20 and 30 million euros.

The next project for their restoration would be a vase of the very same caliber.

Hello.

Hello. Pleased to meet you.

Shall we have a look at it?

They've been summoned by a wealthy client who wishes to remain anonymous.

We've had it around the house for a long time,
but I didn't know what it was.

It's really something special.
Extremely rare.

I've never even seen another one.

The fact that a privately owned one still exists
is nothing short of miraculous.

The vase highly resembles the one being exhibited in London.

This would place it in the 18th century, as a product of the Qing Dynasty.

I think it may have been imported into Japan
around a century ago.

The client remains unsure of the details of the piece's origin.

On it, flowers and butterflies are delicately depicted using Western painting techniques.

The backdrop is a detailed pattern imitating that found on Chinese silk.

It was etched into the surface of the vase over what must have been a ponderously long and painstaking process.

Eastern and Western art have been fused
into a work distilling the finest in both.

It's an unusual choice to see
metal being used like this.

The damage is here at the mouth?

That's right.

When it was broken at some point,
they must have decided to use metal in the repair.

It's a very unique choice.

I became curious what its condition
was like under the metal plate.

It might be missing.

- You think so?
- It seems likely.

If a piece is missing, will you
still be able to repair it?

Yes.

They set out to remove the plate, and repair the surface beneath if necessary.

Should we face the plate forward?

Turn it gradually.

They prepare themselves for the task ahead.

The surface under the plate remains a mystery.

It might be hard to remove.

If the surface were there,
they probably wouldn't have added the plate,

so I think it's missing.

The crack runs down like this,
so the area here likely isn't missing.

A semicircle?

Right. I doubt the inside is metal.

Doesn't seem like it.
It's hard to say, though.

Whatever it is, we'll have to
open it up.

We need to scrape off the kintsugi.

Once we've gotten that off,
we'll be able to tell how much of the rest is left.

Yu prepares a special tool.

It's a double-edged razor.

Cutters are usually about 0.1 mm thick.

I wonder how thick this is?
It's a lot thinner.

It's like a super-thin craft knife.

Take care of the inner kintsugi.

The inside?

The vase thought to be worth tens of millions of dollars goes under the knife.

This looks like lacquer?

It's black.

Lacquer seems to have been used as glue.

Lacquer used to be the strongest glue back in the day.

That means this won't be easy...

Is it hard?

Rather than the hardness of the metal,
it may be very firmly attached with the lacquer.

I'll remove what lacquer I can.

I'd think working on a piece worth millions
must be real pressure.

Well, we always place safety first,
so not much changes in this case.

We're always considering how to avoid
any risk of damage.

It's almost off.

We've gotten a lot.

It looks like it'll move.

OK.

It'll come off.

An inner and outer side are pressed together.

So it ought to split in two.

I think this was added by pressing
two plates together.

So there's nothing inside?

Well, this section here isn't ceramic.

It should come off.

Let's get the inner one first.

Here it comes.

This one, too.

Got it.

It came off clean.

The whole flower was revealed.

From beneath the plate emerges a broken flower.

Decades ago, one man made his name as a restorer.

Mayuyama's father, Manji.

In the postwar period, he got his start as a lacquerware artisan, from which he developed his unique methods.

Kintsugi makes heavy use of lacquer.

My father looked at that, and got the idea of restoring
in a way that'd be almost invisible.

He was called an expert by people in the industry,
and he came up with his own materials.

However, his work was requested largely in secret.

Naturally, museums didn't announce
that a piece had been repaired.

Most people observing the work
probably had no idea it'd been damaged.

An invisible touch.

Passed down through generations, this was the art restorer's pride.

Now, that pride is again put to the test.

We need to start on the inside.

Right.

Mayuyama's son, Yu, has accumulated 12 years of experience.

He crafts the base of the missing part from gypsum.

Gypsum is really durable, and once it dries,
it resonates like ceramics.

The section of gypsum isn't translucent at all.

But the rest of it lets the light
shine through.

I'd like to make it all translucent
to the same degree.

I'll need to cut the thinnest areas
down to under a millimeter.

I can go as thin as 0.5 millimeters.

Now it should be just the right thickness
to let in the light.

Wow! It really does.

It's more transparent now,
since I shaved it down so much.

Mayuyama mixes white pigment and resin to create the outer surface.

He uses his most important tool: His fingers.

My fingers can't be too rough,
so I use sandpaper on them.

On your fingers?

- You do that often?
- All the time.

I can't use fingerprint authentication
with my right index finger.

You really wear it down.

That should be about enough.

Over his 40-year career, Mayuyama has worked on more than 5,000 pieces of ceramic art.

He insists on leaving no trace of his work behind.

I think the restoration has an influence on the work itself.

If it's poorly restored or broken,
the viewer will end up distracted by that.

That's why for the ideal presentation of fine art,
restoration should be almost invisible.

Next, he'll accurately recreate the colors of the vase.

Here goes.

Mayuyama uses materials for natural rock paintings.

This is the blue line here.

It's the blue of the line along the vase's mouth.

I may need five or six.

Colors?

Let's try applying it.

A perfect match on the first try.

Next comes the inner light blue.

This should do it.

The blue line has come together.

The interior is seamless.

Now he'll take on the broken flower.

This is going to be complex work.

But something gives Mayuyama pause.

This pattern doesn't have a clear outline.

The color around it is very faint.

- It'll be a challenge?
- Yes.

Was the vague outline of the flower an intentional design choice?

Or did something cause it to fade?

I'm not sure.

They look for some clue to the intent.

They find one in London.

The Victoria and Albert Museum holds a collection 4 million items strong, centered mainly on decorative art.

Thank you.

There it is!

Another such priceless vase awaited their arrival.

It's just the same.

There's no way
that this resemblance is a coincidence.

I think they must have been made
as a pair.

Comparing the vases, both are 24cm tall and 13cm wide.

Identical sizes.

They received special permission to handle the vase.

It's a little heavy.

Isn't it?

You're right. It's just a little heavier.

A few grams.

It's slight, but you can tell.

Look at this.

The black?

And what of the flower's outline?

It's easy to see that a black line
is clearly remaining.

The black on the vase in Japan is much fainter.

It's much stronger here,
giving a distinct border.

The vase yields an answer.

On the flower as well,
the black line is defined.

Do you think the black line faded from
the one you're working on?

I think so.
Black tends to fade when ceramics are baked.

The line must've gotten fainter that way.

Will you restore it like this?

The problem is that if I use such thick lines on the other vase,
it'll throw off the balance.

Even among a pair, Mayuyama can't simply copy his findings.

He'll need to decide what's best for the vase in Japan.

Mayuyama's trip to the U.K. realized another discovery.

The inscription on the metal plate carried a surprising message.

Professor Nick Pearce studies Chinese art history.

He eagerly decoded the writing on the plate.

Well, I am looking at what I assume is silver plate which has been attached to the vase,

and written in typical copper plate handwriting of the 19th century I would say.

"Kien Lung" is an old spelling of "Qianlong," so we know that it's a Qianlong period vase,

and it's certainly in the style of that.

Written on the plate is the name of Emperor Qianlong.

The emperor, who ruled at the height of the Qing dynasty, was known for his deep appreciation of pottery.

Another detail stands out to Professor Pearce.

If we see that perhaps as Sang Xi Tan, which was a small hall within the Forbidden City.

Sang Xi Tan was a private room built by personal order of the emperor.

After concluding his daily duties, he would often enjoy a moment alone here.

Furnishings in the approximately 5 square meter room consisted of the emperor's favorites.

This vase is stated to have been one such decoration.

The vase, which must have given a moment of peace to the emperor, also inspired other interpretations.

Arai Takayuki, researcher of pottery made for the Chinese emperors, made an important discovery.

During the Qing dynasty, a conversation between the emperor and his officers was transcribed verbatim in official documents.

Here it is.

Arai noticed that among this vast tome, mention was made of what seems to be the vase in question.

An entry was made on August 12th, 1742.

"Two pink Western-style vases with flowers and etching."

The details of this description seem to match
the two vases being examined.

Notice that two of the vases were
presented to the emperor.

I believe this means that they were made as a pair.

A set of two vases.

Could it be that one of them found a home in England, while the other made its way to Japan?

The emperor assigned various ranks to ceramics,
and this one is listed as "top level."

He must have considered it
to be a work of the highest quality.

The vase was made in Jingdezhen, a city famous for its ceramic production.

The city had a special kiln dedicated to making works for the emperor.

This was the apex of the Qing imperial kiln.

They experimented with extremely sophisticated methods
and tested many new things.

It's recorded that 72 people collaborated to produce
a single work.

72 people?

Just for the painted details, one person would draw the outline,
another the interior, and then the color.

The process was divided very specifically.

Having each person excel at a certain task gave birth to
ceramics of amazing quality.

It took an incredible amount of work by artisans of unrivaled skill to bring about the vases.

The recreation would be a true test for Mayuyama.

This'll be a challenge.

How will he decide to restore the faint outline?

I'll trace it first.

The design is symmetrical, so I can trace the paper
on this side and then turn it over and rub it.

That transfers the tracing.

Each petal is about a centimeter wide.

It's a little too thick.

It can't be too thick,
or not thick enough.

It isn't easy.

This technique is really something.

He uses a pin to pare down the line, making it exquisitely thin.

This is pure white.

Here goes.

I'll need to add in pink and green next,
so I can't lay it on too thick.

The colors are actually painted in layers, which Mayuyama attempts to recreate with his work.

I keep in mind the transparency
with colors showing from below.

For any kind of ceramics,
keeping that translucence is critical.

If all the layers don't have the same translucence
and light permeability as the original, it's no good.

By painting one color and letting it dry, then another, Mayuyama meticulously layers one color each day.

Unusually, he puts on a pair of magnifying glasses.

The space between lines is less than a millimeter.

The color's almost invisible.

I can see it.

This seems right.

The flower is complete at last.

Flower petals carefully recreated within the subtle outlines.

Their glow is as warm as nature's embrace.

A new request arrives.

I wonder if I can remove it with a little pressure.

It's the total opposite of the fine lines made by
the imperial kiln.

- Hello. Nice to meet you.
- Thank you for coming out here.

This is author Shirasu Shinya.

His request relates to a porcelain vase made some 400 years ago during Korea's Yi dynasty.

The stains upon the white surface built up as the owner used the vase to hold water and alcohol.

The seemingly random pattern was well appreciated in Japan.

I thought there was something beautiful
in its incompleteness.

It might appeal to Japan's traditional aesthetic
of wabi-sabi.

I actually added this stain myself.

The flower?

Doesn't it look like one?
It built up as I drank from it.

He explains that a previously repaired section came apart.

You can see that the silver area is starting to separate.

So you'd fix the whole thing
rather than that one part?

In either case,
I think it's best to remove and repair it.

That'd be appreciated.

They resolve to repair the entire replaced section.

First, they sculpt the missing section from gypsum.

See this stain? Here, too.

We ought to add one like that on the new section.

They seek to replicate the original stain.

It's actually hard to make a stain.

It's made naturally, so if you tried to do this yourself,
it might seem artificial.

You can't just add it on there,
or make it seem too precise.

I think it's just about how well it can resemble
what was once there.

It isn't something you decide for yourself.

What should I do?

Is there a problem?

There sure is.

Mayuyama continues his battle with the historic vase.

What to do with these leaves is the biggest problem.

For the lower row,
there are three leaves on this side.

But here, there are only two.

It's slightly asymmetrical.

This is the pattern on the back of the base.

At first glance it appears symmetrical... but not quite.

Since they're painted by hand,
they were probably intended symmetrical, but diverged a little.

Well, we can't make them exactly the same,
so we'll just have to follow the design.

Mayuyama has no single point of reference.

It's a sort of creation,
but it doesn't just come down to my artistry.

Famous works have a certain balance
that makes them beautiful.

It's something true both in ancient times and today.

Not something that has been refined over decades of restoration,
but a natural sense that we all share.

I want to achieve that as I fill in the open areas.

You're removing them?

If I don't make them a little longer,
they won't match.

Two or three millimeters makes all the difference.

How best to represent timeless beauty?

It looks totally symmetrical.

Doesn't it? But it actually isn't.

Was it the artist's improvisation?

Well, even if people try to paint perfect symmetry or
a perfect circle, it often falls short.

That's the beauty of hand-painted details.

Look at how these areas are carved out so intricately.

But up close,
this part is larger and this one's smaller.

All four aren't the same.
It has a certain variance.

Without that, it would lack something.

I think it would lack a certain appeal.

The human eye is incredible.

It's able to look at that variance,
and interpret it as a slight softness, or warmth.

This should do it.

Mayuyama has successfully painted the leaves.

I need you to add the fracture line.

Meanwhile, progress has been made with the Korean porcelain vase.

Mayuyama heats it with an open flame.

I'll cut the fracture,
but we'll need to do this right away while it's hot.

The fracture lines need to be added before the resin is allowed to harden.

I extended the fracture from below
so that it looks like they match.

Bring the chestnut stuff.

We boil chestnuts for the brown pigment.

It's about right to seep in
and give a sense of age or discoloration.

See how it lined the crack?

Now comes Mayuyama's time to shine.

You're adding dots?

That's right.

There's quite a bit of discoloration here.

I prep it like this before adding a little discoloration.

Even with these dots,
if I only use one color it'll seem too artificial.

The more effort I put in,
the better results I get.

To bring something 90% of my ideal up to 91% or 92%
may take three times as long.

But that's what I need to prepare
myself for in this work.

Mayuyama composed the structure so that the border between the original and the restoration remains clear.

The white porcelain vase has been reborn.

Oh my.

This is how it came out.

It's very different. Amazing work.

We should commemorate the occasion
by sharing a drink out of it.

Why don't we?

As the vase continues to be used and loved, new flowers may bloom.

That hits the spot.

Later, the imperial vase enters the final stages.

The royal color of yellow is used to fill the open space.

See how there's no red over here?

You're right, it doesn't match.

They might have just forgotten to add it.

But see how there's red on one side here,
but not on the other?

It may have been intentional.

Thinking of the shadow from the leaves,
it may be intended to come from the upper right.

If you visualize it as shadow, even if there's none here,
there should be red on this side.

The restoration has progressed for four months, as Mayuyama continues his inner dialogue with the ancient craftsman.

There's a little space between the red and green.
It's clear here.

But it's smaller on this side.

I'd like to create a matching gap,
although it's a small detail.

This must've been done by an incredible painter.

I think they had put an intense
and uncompromising effort into it.

Those feelings seem to be
directly communicated by the vase.

In any case,
the vase is a true treasure of mankind.

It should be left to future generations in
as close to perfect a form as possible.

I need to help realize that.

Hello.

It's nice to see you again.

We've completed it at last.

Thank you for everything.

Here it is.

Where was the plate, originally?

- On this side.
- That's right.

It's imperceptible.

The vase has been restored to its full glory.

Now, a treasure of mankind can be passed down to generations to come.

Last night, I spent an hour looking it over.

I actually said "thank you" to the vase.

It's strange, but I felt like it thanked me back.

That's how attached I've grown to it.

And so, another job is complete.

Father and son return to the shadows, to prepare for their next request.

People call them...

"The God Hand."