The Role of Imperfection in Artwork

I recently worked on a wedding where I created a number of hand-painted, original items for the weekend’s events. While all of my work starts out hand-painted, typically I then scan the designs, edit them, and get them printed for stationery. But these pieces - tambourines and maracas, a big draping escort display sign, and tablecloths for the rehearsal dinner - were all getting painted by hand, with my raw, original, unedited artwork on display. Rather than having the manicured and printed version, this client actually wanted and invited the bold, hand-done detail as the knew it would stand out to her guests. Pops of red, bold drapery of paint would naturally take the stage aside the monotony of typical, clean typeface. And I found myself thinking about the role of imperfection in my work as I hand-painted this escort display.

As I paitned each number above the guest names for each corresponding table, I found myself not only embracing, but even slightly striving for imperfection - making the “1” a little slanted here, a little taller there, adding a whimsical curvature to the tail of a “5".” Making the whole thing more playful, more human, more alive. Because, I thought to myself, if this client specifically wants this to be painted by hand, with a literal human touch, that should come across. And, as we know, our humanness is anything but perfect. And so, an asymmetry here or a juxtaposition there - rather than perfect alignment and carbon copied creations - became not just a mistake I was making and then accepting, but actually something I was going for. Because, after all this work and all this time, I wanted people to know - this was made by a person, not a machine. And it’s actually so much more beautiful and interesting that way.

Was I expecting to have such profound revelations while merely painting some numerics onto a linen cloth? No. But I think it is valuable food for thought, especially as we enter into the age of AI. So much of art is often valued by its technique, its precision, how accurately it represents a subject, and how * perfect * it is. But as automated creation takes over, I think the messy, the imperfect, the human will become all the more sought after. All the more interesting, all the more beautiful. And, as an artist whose technique is anything but perfect, but who puts so much heart and creativity and humanness into my work, I am excited to be a part of this evolution. Where the personal, imperfect human touch reigns supreme.

And so I invite you to think about this as you plan your own wedding (or relationship or life). What if, instead of merely accepting imperfection but secretly shunning it, what if you actually sought it out sometimes? As a sign of being real, being human - as a sign of life? Because, I believe that is what these events are all about, really. Not a display of perfection but rather a celebration of love - one of the most perfectly imperfect things we have.