A cure for perfectionism?
If you have spent any time in patchwork and quilting circles, you may have heard the idea that Amish quiltmakers include a deliberate "mistake" in their exquisitely simple and beautiful designs because "only God is perfect". A little research soon reveals that whilst this might seem like a nice idea, there isn't a lot of hard evidence to support it. It is probably more accurate to simply acknowledge that anything handmade is unlikely to be "perfect". The simple process of making anything with our own two hands means that variations and imperfections will arise quite naturally. In another quilting example, you could argue that crazy patchwork is beautiful precisely because it is a deliberate collection of imperfections! The trick is coming to terms with how we feel about them.
Crazy quilt, 19th Century, Metropolitan Museum of Art (www.metmuseum.org)
I have always had perfectionist tendencies. What do I mean by that? For me, it means I have a pretty high set of standards for what I expect of myself. Generally speaking, it is more about measuring myself against myself rather than others. At school, I liked to do as well or better than I had done before, not because I needed to be better than anyone else, but because I liked to do better for myself. But this has still been problematic at times, especially when I was fearful to try something new in case I did it "wrong".
With a background in Maths and Physics, I was trained by the formal education system that getting the "right" answer was "good", whilst getting the "wrong" answer was "bad". This is the kind of value judgement that permeates our entire Western society. We fear (and thus often avoid) failure in many arenas of our life. A marriage that ends is termed "a failed relationship" instead of one that has simply run its course. A sportsman or performer who didn't have a good day on the field or stage is said to have "failed to deliver", instead of acknowledging that mind and body simply weren't working to maximum potential on that day. A student who is still coming to terms with a concept gains a low mark on a test, but the "fail" doesn't generally encourage them to keep trying - it is more often internalised as an indication that they are "stupid" or "can't do it". The list goes on and on. There are so many ways that our society subtly sets up "perfect" as the benchmark, leaving anything else feeling like it is not good enough.
This was relatively easy for me to manage through most of my education because the subjects I studied came easily and they usually had a clear "right" or "wrong" answer. In the third year of my undergraduate degree however, everything nearly came unstuck. One of our compulsory units was a hands-on class in Electronics. I was required to build a small timer. Despite the fact that I was an avid maker in other parts of my life, I was not a hands-on physicist. I liked to play with mathematical equations rather than electronics kits. The panic that set in at facing a subject that I might fail was so bad that I literally froze.
After weeks of what can best be described as ostrich like behaviour on my part (complete and total avoidance of all things associated with the Electronics lab!), I had to face the music or fail third year entirely. I found myself at the campus Medical Centre talking to a jolly, older doctor who suggested to me that all I had to do was pass. My timer didn’t need to be perfect, it didn’t even need to be very good. It just needed to be adequate. This was a novel concept in my education so far. But fortunately, this gentle advice was enough to get me back on track. I furtively frequented the lab when no-one else was around and cobbled together my first and only piece of electronic gadgetry. It functioned. It passed. And a very important seed had been sown. It turned out that I could survive submitting something well below my usual perfectionist standards.
Away from the strictly measured environment of formal education, it's harder sometimes to have a handle on what constitutes "right". Parenting is a great example. We are surrounded by conflicting advice about how to be a good parent, usually allied with a suite of fears about the dire consequences of getting it "wrong". When I was pregnant with my first child, I was a long way from home - first in Sweden and then in England. Soon after my son was born, Mum sent me an article on parenting. The theme of the piece was that you didn't have to be perfect - you just had to be "good enough". The idea took strong root in my brain. I had a tiny baby who had apparently missed the lesson on sleeping. I was lucky to get a twenty minute nap from him during the day and the nights were peppered with interruptions. So I was bone tired and I made a lot of mistakes. "You only have to be good enough" became my mantra.
Striving for perfection had also been a hallmark of my craft activities. I had a cupboard full of unfinished projects - some were 80-90 percent complete! But I was uncertain about how to finish them and feared making a "mistake" that would "ruin" them. I wrote in my last post about my experiences in the Canvaswork Masterclass at the Embroiderers' Guild of Victoria. We had to produce a new sample from scratch every month. We couldn't use anyone else's design. There was no way that every piece could be "perfect" - it just needed to be finished. I quickly learned that producing a piece that didn't match the standard I had set in my head, wasn't "bad" - it was simply an opportunity to learn and improve my skills.
This is a fundamental idea that I now always pass on to my students. Counted canvaswork embroidery is a little unforgiving in this respect. If you count inaccurately, the variation can quickly propagate and result in something that looks very different to the original design. Rather than calling this "wrong" however, I refer to it as a "creative variation". Before we automatically go down the unpicking route, I will ask a student if they want to try finding a way for us to adjust other elements in the design so that everything still fits together. Sometimes we can and sometimes we can't. Importantly though, both outcomes are good! In one, the student learns that it is OK to be "wrong", unpick a little, and then just keep going. In the other, they discover that making a "mistake" can actually be a wonderful way to create something new, and thus it builds their creative confidence.
As long as you don't let perfectionism hold you back from even beginning (as I very nearly did with that electronic timer), breaking down perfectionist tendencies can be a really helpful outcome of making things with our hands. For most of us, craft activities are a leisure pursuit and thus not subject to the same level of assessment and external judgement as some other areas of our lives. You don't get a "pass" or a "fail", you just "do". Focussing on getting something finished can be a really useful avenue for ignoring the voice in your head that wants to make it "perfect". I'm not suggesting that there isn't value in striving to create something beautiful, but learning to accept the imperfections in that process can be really powerful. In his book, "A Craftsman's Legacy", Eric Gorges puts it really well:
“Making things is putting ourselves out there in a naked and vulnerable way. I think it’s fear: fear of exposing ourselves, fear of not being good at something, fear of revealing our imperfections. But the imperfections are where the value is. They speak to our humanness.”
I'm also a big believer in the subtle but effective ripple effect. A pot that collapses on the wheel is frustrating but not fatal. You can simply start again. The mistake doesn't make you a bad person or even a bad potter. And the more "mistakes" you make, the easier it becomes to problem solve your way around them. Learning that lesson in an arena where the stakes are not too high, can be a useful way of carrying the same less demanding attitude into other parts of our life. As Adam Savage (of MythBusters fame) says in his book, "Every Tool's a Hammer".
"Any maker space (or recording studio, or drawing table, or sewing machine) is a place wherein the maker can safely experience the vicissitudes of life. We can screw up, and the stakes are far from life or death."
Whoops! Time to start again :) (Photo by Monstera via Pexels)
I know that some of you are reading this and thinking, "There is nothing wrong with a bit of perfectionism! Striving to make something truly beautiful and exquisitely crafted is a good thing." I totally agree with you. I work really hard to make my designs as interesting and aesthetically pleasing as I can. But because of the negative connotations, I've made a conscious choice to change my language around this idea. I'm not striving for "perfection". Instead I am aiming for excellent "craftsmanship", knowing that making things by hand is an inherently imperfect process. I want my designs to make best use of my technical skill, but I accept there will be some stitches where the thread doesn't lie quite as smoothly as I might like. I want my stitches to fit together beautifully in a geometric pattern that sings with interesting colour combinations, but there are always ways in which I can do better. The really important part of focussing on "craftsmanship" is that rather than getting hung up on failing to make something "perfect", I use the mistakes I make and the lessons I learn to keep developing my skills and trying new things. I make sure it pushes me forward rather than holding me back.
So, is making things by hand a "cure" for perfectionism? Maybe. It can be a great way to become comfortable with making mistakes. Nobody is going to die and a bridge will not collapse if that loaf of bread comes out of the oven somewhat misshapen, or you drop a stitch in your knitting. You can simply learn from the mistakes and try again.
Do I want to cure my perfectionism though? Maybe not. Over the past ten years, living life as a full-time creative, I've made friends with it. Having high standards means that I strive to keep creating interesting designs and making sure that my teaching materials give my students the best possible chance at succeeding with their own stitching. My desire for achieving excellence in my craftsmanship is a good way to encourage myself to keep stretching and developing my creative practice. But I don’t beat myself up if something is not quite what I hoped or expected it to be. Instead, I've learned to let go of the preconceptions of what I think it should be, and just appreciate it for what it is :)
This Week’s References
A Craftsman's Legacy: Why Working with Our Hands Gives Us Meaning by Eric Gorges, Jon Sternfeld (2019). Published by Algonquin Books, USA - ISBN 9781616209445
Every Tool's A Hammer: Life Is What You Make It by Adam Savage (2019). Published by Atria Books, Simon & Schuster, USA - ISBN 9781471185120
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