This Morning’s Meditation:

I hope you are safe and warm during this intense cold spell that we are all having. The fire is blazing here in the studio to keep my fingers working and the dog warm! It’s not perfect, but it is working and, on that note, this Morning’s Meditation was on making art and perfection.

Because we are human and thus limited, imperfection or incompleteness may be found in anything our hands and hearts attend. Consider the typo that many eyes see immediately after we tap the Send button despite our best efforts to proof our work. Or, the attachment we intended to include but didn’t. Over the weekend, the banana bread was flat after I got distracted and omitted the baking powder. There is imperfection in nearly all we do.

In my art practice, I sometimes become distracted and dazzled by a line that strayed in an interesting way or a color that veered off in an unplanned direction. Sometimes the plan I had when I started is nothing like the result I have at the end. I’d like to imagine that I was unconsciously following the spiritual practice of wise folk who deliberately include a flaw in their artistry, an acknowledgment of the imperfection of all that is humanly made. But let’s be real, the stumbles and fumbles are usually unintended, and I own them. Somewhere along the journey of art-making over many decades, I let go of the striving for perfection. In doing so, found a newfound compassion for my humanity, a knowing that I was part of a world that is both beautiful and skewed.

In “The Liberating Lessons of Imperfection,” Sheryl Chard does not ask us to cease trying our best. Rather, she proposes that perceived mistakes and carefully thought-out plans gone awry can be a chance for profound learning. She wonders, “What if all of us could remember to ask ourselves: When was I searching for the ‘perfect’ (fill in the blank here) and instead was surprised and delighted by something completely different? When were my imperfections met with compassion, and how was I shaped by that generosity?”

Going into a new year she asks, “What if this year I could walk through my days appreciating all the imperfections that actually bring me joy, tell a story, teach something, invite my contribution, or add surprising beauty?”

So, today I stand before the easel armed with the necessary discipline to produce a piece of art and the delightful abandon to accept the variances that the canvas, the paint, this day, and this life will add to that discipline. Let’s go make something imperfect!

Blood Orange Peel, 2022

Watercolor and Micron Pen on Archival Paper

Available at https://BarbaraWentzellJaquith.com