Picture Imperfect

When I make a piece of visual art and I think I have reached a finished point I step back and take a long look. As I see the piece as its own unique entity for the first time I begin to notice the way each stage of the work plays into the work as a whole. I also take note of the areas of the composition that seem to stick out - either in a healthy and fun way or in an odd and distracting manner which cry out for additional attention before the work can actually be considered done. This critical eye serves to check the piece and see if it passes the unspoken standards I set for myself as an artist of what I expect of a work that I am ready to share with others as part of my visual voice.

One of the challenges I run into in the process is the comparison of my work to the imagery that saturates the culture around me as a test of quality. Much of the imagery that I see daily is digital imagery – created with a base photograph or images and compositions developed on a computer. Digital imagery has the ability to be crisp and clean and picture perfect. While media images are not specifically art, they do build a visual reference point for comparison and set a certain threshold of expectation for viewers.

Handmade art can be, but is not always, visually crisp and clean. Very often the lines of my art are fuzzy and wobbly and the shapes are more indicative of the objects they are representing versus explicit reproductions. This is one of the gifts of visual art – the space for interpretation and an imbued sense of feeling. Yet it is also a challenge in confidence when comparing the visual images I make to digital and printed imagery. I am not a machine, and I celebrate that fact, but sometimes my brain forgets to maintain that distinction and tries to critique my art from a mechanical standpoint. In these moments of comparison I tend to linger on the moments of imperfection in my pieces and sometimes have a hard time seeing the work in the light of its unique authenticity.

Last weekend I was digging through piles of scrap wood in my Dad’s workshop in search of materials for some wood collages. I came across a small chunk of wood that had two holes bored into it – one formed a perfect circle and the other circle fell off the edge of the piece – I let out a squeak of delight and said “look at how beautiful this is”. My Dad and partner just looked at me and laughed at how excited I was at the botched elements on a chunk of wood. “If its holes you want – I have more stuff over here” my Dad said and brought over a stack of wooden circles full of holes and lines grooved into the surface. In that moment I was reminded of the power and potential of imperfection. In no way was I stifled and deflated by the lack of crispness and rigidity that would exist in the result of using these scraps in a collage. Instead, I was elated by the imperfections and I was on the lookout for them, excited about the unexpected beauty and character that each ding, dent, and scrape on a piece of wood might offer the resulting collaged composition.

While I value and believe that critique is a necessary part of creating and encountering visual art, I am also learning to be gentle and gracious with that process. I am seeking to be open to each piece as a whole and to enjoy it in its own uniqueness instead of getting bogged down in the infinite critical suggestions of what it might have been. I will continue to celebrate the human touch that is evident in handmade imagery and challenge myself to be mindful that areas of images that hint of imperfection may actually be the perfect elements of interest and beauty.