Reading time ~ 3 minutes.
Perfectionism is seductive. It feeds the illusion we’re in control, while our subconscious knows every event in our lives is wildly beyond it. At the same time, perfectionism can be a cruel force of criticism and self-judgment. Any athlete or performer can attest that the conscious effort to achieve perfection creates tension that thwarts our natural flow. I once read it’s also a subtle sign of arrogance—we know it’s unfair to expect perfection in others, so when we demand it from ourselves, it must mean deep down we think we’re better than everyone else. But perfection is, of course, an unattainable measure—even a baseball player having an excellent season batting over 300 fails to get on base 2/3rds of the time.
For me, perfectionism is a slippery slope into OCD traits. When not kept in check, I can spend hours revising minute details on a Powerpoint slide or writing and re-writing emails that seem important in the moment. I hide these behaviors as best I can and have yet to answer honestly when someone asks how much time it takes before I hit “publish” on these blog posts.
In recent weeks, I’ve been beating myself up for a few things that didn’t turn out as perfectly as I’d hoped. Since I won’t get a do over, I’ve been working to let them go by remembering how much comfort I find in imperfection. I buy used cars that have a door ding or rock chip in the hood, so I’m not the one to ruin a perfect paint job. I’m drawn to photographs that are slightly askew, pretty faces creased by a scar, blue jeans worn thin at the knee. The unique beauty in a blemish.
It especially pleases me to see the imperfection of masters, not in a schadenfreude kind of way—I take no joy in the misfortune of others—but as proof they are human and genius is realized through fits and starts. At an Andy Warhol exhibit, I admired the innovative finished works but appreciated more his pencil drawings with lead smears and eraser marks. Never much of a Sesame Street fan, I still loved a retrospective of Jim Henson’s career because of the early sketches, literal napkin doodles of the characters that would become Big Bird, Kermit, Ernie, and Bert. My favorite was this clever illustration from a journal he kept in the 1960s.
At the Morgan library one December, I snapped photos of handwritten pages from a Mozart concerto and Charles Dickens’ original manuscript of A Christmas Carol. With words or notes crossed out and substitutes scribbled between the lines, they are reminders that even timeless classics began as imperfect ideas that were shaped and edited.
During the same trip to New York, we had the chance to see the Henri Matisse paper cutouts exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art. Having thumbed through our coffee table book version of Jazz countless times, I was impatiently eager waiting in line with our timed ticket. Inside I found Icarus’ black body and tiny red heart set against a star-filled blue background (above), colorful seaweed flowers blooming across an entire wall, vibrant figures swimming around a doorframe, the blue nude series.
Several of the installations were so large you could only take them in from a distance, but I was more curious to study them up close—too close, apparently, for the docent who reprimanded me while I examined one with my nose an inch away.
From images in a book, I had imagined for decades that these collages were crisp and perfect. It was a surprise to see notched edges from imprecise turns of the scissors, residual pencil lines marking places for paper to be glued, and dark gummy spots where adhesive seeped through. In person, they were not flawless after all. But neither were they a disappointment. Looking closely, what I saw was far from fault or failure, it was visible traces of human effort and intention. Similar to the earlier manuscripts and sketches, they shifted my perspective: whether imperfect or in process, these works of art, like us, are still sublime.
If you like this post, please share.
Love this - getting ready for some embracing this week
Thank you for the Monday morning share! Great way to start my week- embracing the imperfect. ❤️