As I begin the new year, I’ve decided to follow a set of daily exercises recommended by Julia Cameron in her recent book, The Daily Artist’s Way. Cameron chooses a theme relevant to creativity for attention each day. A key part of her exercises is what she calls “morning pages,” three handwritten pages in a journal exploring the day’s theme topic and any other free thoughts one cares to explore and express. Yesterday’s theme was the effect of perfectionism on creative activity and the degree to which it serves as an impediment.
It’s been said that the perfect is the enemy of the good, that believing that one must make no mistakes poses obstacles to doing anything at all. There is much truth in this statement, and indeed I have experienced this in my own work, failing to undertake activities for fear that I could not be perfect or that I might fail altogether.
It seems, therefore, that the path to creative progress is to accept the likelihood that mistakes will be made, that imperfections will creep into our work. And why should this pose obstacles that are insurmountable?
Many cultures find an honored place for imperfections. In some cases, they’re not only tolerated but planned. Navajo weavers, for instance, are known to include an imperfect row in their rugs to allegedly allow evil spirits to escape being trapped in the design. The same is said to be done by middle eastern weavers of oriental rugs. And the Japanese embrace the concept of Wabi Sabi, which encourages humility through embracing imperfections as a design element. These traditions emphasize the value of imperfections by regarding them as not a problem but as positive traits.
Thinking about this led me to consider whether there might be other positive aspects to imperfections in creative work. In my photography, I often find that I’ve failed to capture the essence of a scene by spending too little time investigating all the angles from which it can be viewed or considering the lens or depth of field that will make the most compelling image. In my woodworking, I may not achieve a precise cut because I did not properly test the fit of a joint before cutting it. And in baking bread, something I do often, I may omit to test the dough as it rises and put it into the oven at the wrong time. Each of these imperfections leads to undesirable results.
But what if imperfections themselves might prove to be a spur to greater creativity? What if uncovering unsatisfactory or imprecise outcomes could lead to fresh thoughts, new approaches, greater creative effort?
In truth, I think they can do just that. Here’s how. If I’m conscious of my errors, if I seek to understand and dissect them so that I know why they occurred, I have in my hands a tool for creating solutions that, next time, will make it more likely I’ll succeed. It means stepping back, taking an honest look at what I’ve done well and what I’ve done badly. And then persevering in the face of reluctance to proceed.
So, my conclusion is this: while the fear of imperfections can indeed block creativity, it needn’t be that way. It’s readily possible to turn imperfections on their head, to use them as a source of new creative thought about how to improve performance, seek out fresh ways of doing things, and think beyond failure to see a better way. That means imperfections are not such a bad thing after all, when they have the power to spur even better accomplishments down the road.