It’s the imperfections that make us beautiful. —Sophia Loren
After I posted My Biography Of Imperfections last week, a couple of people asked me if, at some point, I was planning to post My Biography Of Perfections.
Actually, I prefer the imperfections and find alien the idea of trying to identify and focus on perfections.
I remember hearing years ago that Amish quilters consciously incorporate a flaw in every quilt they make. To not do so would be considered blasphemous, as only God can create anything perfect.
That idea seemed curious to me. I would expect any quilt—or pancake or hat or origami box—I make to be imperfect; I would never feel the need to add in a crooked or missed stitch. I would rest confident that imperfections would just happen.
And I like it that way. It’s liberating. The idea of perfection seems static to me, and therefore kind of dull. It seems like something you have to curate, maintain, defend—like your Heavyweight Champion Of The World title—not accept and be curious about, like the way your right eyebrow is shaped really differently from your left eyebrow.
Imperfections seem like precious quirks, like the things that make each of us our own unique selves. There’s so much pressure—especially on women and girls, but frankly on everyone—to meet a perfect ideal, physically of course, but also in terms of one’s performance in the career arena, in social circles, in any and every undertaking. I have the most fun when I can relax and laugh with others about my shortcomings; I consider myself pretty allergic to the perfect.
I admire the Japanese practice of kintsugi. In the context of pottery, it describes the method of highlighting breaks by patching broken ceramics together with lacquer mixed with gold dust, so the lines of fracture become luminous, highlighted and celebrated instead of disguised. It’s part of a larger aesthetic philosophy, wabi sabi, which emphasizes the acceptance of impermanence, imperfection, and humility. This philosophy savors the marks of age and wear that characterize a long history, whether of an object or a person. Scars mean you’ve been around the block a time or two.
I just love that kintsugi idea of gilding the breaks, the weakpoints, the defects, and thus making the object more beautiful, more cherished, and more interesting than it was prior to its shattering. And I love how it translates into our understanding and acceptance of our own flaws and foibles and many beautiful imperfections.
(I first learned about kintsugi on Tanya Shaffer’s blog. And I first saw the kintsugi video I link to below on Austin Kleon’s web site.)
Here’s a link to a very good, four-minute video on kintsugi:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBUTQkaSSTY
And here’s a link to a very good, slightly longer video on wabi-sabi:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QmHLYhxYVjA