Toy Soldier Art

Perfection within Imperfection

The Art of Crude and the Sublime Refinement

One must seek the perfection within the imperfection. That which is crude, unrefined and misshapen has within it the spark of that which is perfect. It is not in the elements; it is in the totality that one appreciates a perfect single thing made of the imperfect many parts. So it is that an imperfect thing can be the means to convey the message perfectly.

We love what we love because of its imperfections as much as its grandest attributes. The naughty kitty is loved because she is mischievous as much as because she is an affectionate companion. The close friend is cherished as much in his foibles as in his successes. Indeed, a person who is too perfect is frightening. He is not the perfect friend. It is the flawed one who is preferred to the perfect one. Perhaps we feel that the flawed man's faults are there for all to see, and so can be accommodated. The perfect man may not be perfect at all, and so we assume that his hidden faults may well be greater than the unconcealed flaws of the average soul. Better a devil you can see than one that is hidden.

Imperfections can tell a tale of people and events. The crack in the old vase makes it valuable because of the beloved aunt who caused it. The scratches on the table leg are a fond remembrance of a puppy who has long since grown and died of age. Paint scraped off the door jamb are tokens of a child who has since become an adult. The imperfections we make become perfect reminders of our passage through time. Through imperfection we can see perfection, much as one peers through a telescope or peeks through a keyhole.

That thing which is made imperfect is a joy to the maker, for he delights in his work despite his lack of skill. See the child who has tried her hand at some handicraft. Though the result is askew, she beams with joyous pride at her creation. We may see imperfection if we look only at the thing. We need to look at the thing in context and conjunction with the child and the effort. There we see the perfect expression of happiness. Were we to separate any of the elements, we would only get imperfect parts. Our analysis would be such that we would analyze the life out of it.

It is wisely said that when an individual pursues one truth to the exclusion of all others, that truth becomes a lie and the person becomes a fanatic. Is it any different if we seize onto one imperfect element so fiercely that we miss the perfect totality of all the elements together? Can we miss the symphony if we only hear the kettledrum? Do we lose the masterpiece if we only focus on one color or one brush stroke?

We move through time; one thing leads to the next. We fix our sight and see what we will as we journey forth. Our lives are a collection of imperfect moments just as we are imperfect entities. Yet our imperfections,when taken as a whole, show us a perfection that lies within each of us. We touch it when we see the perfection that abides in the multitude of imperfect things. Therein is the joy of life and a connection with that which is eternal and unchanging, constant and good. The joy is that it is not only outside us, but within us and part of each of us. Harmony within recognizes harmony without. So it is that the string of imperfections is like notes in a score of music or colors in a great painting.

It is through the imperfect that perfection abides. And we abide with it, whether we see it or not.