Beauty in Imperfection

Anne posted in her Glazed Heart Blog about receiving enjoyment from the lesser appreciated things in life, which got me to thinking about the beauty of imperfections.  In the spirit of art month at the Writersvibe, I’m posting some of my art work.  As I scanned photos of my artwork into my scanner, I realized: most of the works fell short of the expectations I originally held – basically, my skills as an artist lack the polish my imagination expected.  Now looking back at my work, I still feel sad that I was unable to accomplish my goals, however, I found a different appreciation for each piece.  There is beauty in the imperfections – beauty which makes each piece individual – a work of MY art.

My favorite painting hangs in my parents' house.  It is hard to tell from this second rate photo but it depicts a girl holding a tiger lily as her protector, a magnificent white tiger stands behind her.  Or at least that is what I'd envisioned.  In fact, I dreamed up a whole series of paintings with girls from around the world holding indigenous flowers and posing with powerful animal friends.  As I slowly realized I lacked the skills needed to bring my creations to life, I quit painting.  Somewhere I have a portfolio of unfinished painting.  I allowed the details to stop me from finishing the work.  When I look at the painting of the girl and the tiger, all I see is the over painted lines in her neck and the awkward forehead of the tiger.  The tiger bothers me most because in all the sketches I drew beforehand, he was the figure I liked the best, but somehow when I painted him I messed up the angle of his forehead.  But even with all the errors, I still managed to capture a fierceness in the girl's expression.  A fierceness, I once had inside of me.  I girl who would not quit because of little details.

The next photo I scanned is another large painting which hangs at my parents' house.  I used a photo I'd snapped on a visit to Hawaii as the background and added a collage of dolphin photos I captured from a marina.  The photo from Hawaii, however, only showed the rock cave but in order to balance the canvas I tried to imagine the ground above the cliff surface.  Again, I feel like I failed.  My original idea was a long narrow painting focusing on the dolphins.  Each time I view this painting I am reminded of the dramatic image in my head wishing I'd re-balanced the setting.  But the playful spirit of the dolphins keeps me returning and fills me with a desire to play with my paints again.

I fear, as I edit my writing, I am falling into the same trap.  I find myself hanging on awkward wording and poor word choice instead of focusing on the emotion behind the story.  It is the imperfections which make a painting art - a longing for the perfect which emphasizes the strengths - otherwise it would be a photo.  Could writing be similar?  The imperfections are simply a reflection the the writer's life.  And life, is imperfect.

This sketch has imperfections but I love them.  I love the rough lines of the pencil and the smudged areas along her face.  They are real to me and remind me of my love of drawing.  The sounds of the graphite as it scratches the porous paper and the smell of eraser as friction heats the rubber.  This simple sketch is framed and hangs on a wall in my house.  Oddly, there is nothing I would change about it.

Finally, I won an award with this sketch, nothing prestigious, but special to me all the same.  I'm happy with the Snowy Owl but I have always felt that the Short-Eared Owl lacks finesse.  I probably should have finished his body but I like the journal-look of the artwork.  It is my drawling and I am proud to say I created it.

Perhaps that is the key.  If I can accept the imperfections and even come to embrace them, are they still considered imperfections or do they become art?