4 surprising lessons on imperfection I learned from painting

Painting fills my soul — and is teaching me a lot about my imperfection. Over the past four or five years, I’ve leaned into this painting exploration, realizing that to immerse myself in the process is worth eventually accepting that my painting is indeed amateur. I have no formal training and my classes very often include a cocktail at a local pub or restaurant, so it’s frankly no surprise that I’m not cranking out masterpieces.

My sister-in-law and I recently had a conversation about what to do with all of the paintings we have created. When you put your heart into a painting, it can be hard to let go. My favorites are in a series done over about three years, all featuring Diamond Head on Waikiki Beach in sunny Hawaii. Some of these paintings hang on my laundry room wall. They remind me of many important things in life: practice, patience, imperfection. You can read about them here, in my very first post, Variations on a theme. So, here are a few lessons I learned about imperfection through my painting journey!

1. Knowing I am imperfect connects me to the rest of human kind

Most of us know we are not perfect – we just continue placing this expectation on ourselves and those around us. Maybe it’s a natural hazard of starting out our existence on this planet as the smallest one in the room, with little head or heart knowledge. We have much bigger voices surrounding us, teaching us, giving us direct and indirect messages about who we are now, are becoming, or should be.

It’s true that none of my paintings are perfect, not even close. But I keep some of them because they are authentic to who I am now and they tell a story of progress. They have a glimmer of promise, a glimpse of character in their imperfection. These paintings point to the essence of the craft, to a “want to be” artist’s vision. In their imperfection, they capture a glimpse of what Anatole France refers to as the “very essence of my being.”

“I cling to my imperfection, as the very essence of my being.“

– Anatole France

2. Some imperfection doesn’t deserve my focus

Often, I just need to let go of my imperfection. My faults can be so glaringly obvious, and frankly, just messy. Seriously, who wants to look at that?! I realized this about my painting collection recently while re-organizing my studio space and trying to downsize. As I curated the collection, I quickly identified examples of the “messy side” of learning; paintings that were not wall-worthy, or even closet-worthy. While these particular paintings brought value to my learning process and were part of my imperfect painting journey, I had no room for them.

To move forward, I have to trust that I’ve internalized the lessons, keep creating, and remember not to dwell on the more unpleasant aspects. Constantly finding fault with myself doesn’t serve me or those around me well. I stop giving imperfection power over me when I acknowledge that an aspect of my life or my work is a mess, a work in progress — and let it go. And yes, I am working on it, next painting, please.

3. I have to be okay with sitting in the mess, too

I haven’t yet decided which bucket this latest painting fits into – keeping for observation or letting go. In reality, sometimes there is a middle bucket, the “wait and see” one, where I need to just quietly sit with the imperfection for a while, until either I change or it no longer matters to me.

I am certain I will find lessons in the piece. Some of my lessons will be technical, like how to make better leaves or blooms. And perhaps, I may yet learn more about life from this painting. So, I’ll just wait and see.

4. Our imperfection can be someone else’s happy moment … or simply a connection to another imperfect being

Sometimes, very rarely, I’ve found that my painting can be a gift to someone else, a piece of myself that brings joy in some small way. This is perhaps the most magical of all, when someone else views your imperfection — and finds in it a gift! The lady who sat next to me at last night’s event, for instance, commented quietly that my painting made her smile. And that little gift from her made my heart smile and relax a teeny bit more into my imperfection.

May you know that your imperfection is part of being human and let it connect you to other imperfect beings. May your imperfection make you smile, gear up for another “go” at it, and keep on creating and being! Mostly, may you feel the grace of God, who covers all of our imperfections perfectly!