Redtree Times

Give Me One Reason– At Principle Gallery

As machines become more and more efficient and perfect, so it will become clear that imperfection is the greatness of man.

—Ernst Fischer, An Opposing Man (1969)

I’ve wondered about the concept of perfection for some time, given the way some folks are always going on about it, looking for it because they think they can’t live without it.

Not me, of course. Quite some time back, I came to that conclusion that perfection is not a human quality, that we are defined by our imperfections and how we cope with them. How we adapt and compensate for all the area in which we are lacking.

And that’s somewhat what the quote above says, as I read it.

When I read it, it struck me at once but I had never heard of the writer, Ernst Fischer.  Looking him up, I found him to be an Austrian Marxist writer/journalist born in 1899 who waved the banner for Stalinist policies for many years but in his later years– he died in 1972– Fischer came to regret his past. His memoir of his life began with a chapter that was titled Was That Me?  in which he expressed his astonishment at looking back and seeing the many phases and changes he went through in his life.

I think most of us could start our own memoirs with that same first chapter title.

I know I could, even though I feel that I am very much the same at the core now as I was in my earlier days. However, my actions were not always consistent with that core and often didn’t really reflect well on me. I did some things that were–how should I put this? — less than perfect. I was then, and am now, a walking collage of flaws and imperfections.

As are we all. At least, that applies to everyone I know. I could be wrong, of course. Being wrong out loud is part of that imperfection. Been there, done that.

Maybe it’s when we finally recognize– if we are fortunate enough to do so– what sort of person we want to be that we begin to alter and align our actions to what we are at our core. Then life becomes somewhat easier to swallow and our imperfections become less evident, not worn on our sleeves for all to see. Not the first thing people notice or remember about us.

I’m not talking about trying to acquire perfection. No, I mean that we just try to recognize the flaws that make up each of us and to accept them. Life is in toleration– of others as well as of ourselves. And in adapting to and overcoming our shortcomings.

Please bear with me here. One of the negative aspects of doing a daily blog is that I often post things as though I were writing them in a journal, unedited and just as they fall out of the mind. They are not always fully realized thoughts or ideas and will soon be questioned in my own mind.

It’s like reading an old journal written when much younger and wondering, “What was I thinking there?” or, echoing Fischer, “Was that me?”

You hope that, as we age and gain experience, that this is a less frequent happening in our lives.  But writing in this public forum, forcing out words each day, it sometimes, maybe even often, reappears. One’s imperfections become apparent the more you put yourself out there.

Maybe silence truly is golden.

Phew!  I don’t know what I just said here and I don’t really want to reread it so I’ll let it hang out there for now, flawed though it may be. Someday in the near or distant future I just know I’ll read it and ask myself, “Was that me?”

This post first ran back in 2010 then again in 2021. Some things never change. 

I did reread this post this morning. Instead of being shocked at some earlier stupidity being displayed, I was pleasantly surprised that the years have been kind to this post, that I am not embarrassed by very presence. Of course, this post only goes back 16 years.  by then I had already had a show at the Principle Gallery several years before that was called Seeking Imperfection. Any illusions of my own perfection had long went out the window.

However, I am sure that if I truly wanted, I could dig something out of an old journal from many years before that would make me cringe in shame and embarrassment.

As luck would have it, I don’t want to do that.

The only perfection I know now comes in small moments, one that come unexpectedly and reveal a simple profundity. It sometimes comes in a flickering of light and shadow through the forest as a bird sings. An unexpected smile from a stranger. Or simply catching Cheri’s eye while I pour her second couple of tea at breakfast and, in that moment, the richness of the many years we have been together, all the good times as well as the bad, flash between us, expressed as a glance knowing contentment.

That’s the only perfection I seek.

I chose the recent painting shown at the top, Give Me One Reason, for this post. It initially had a different meaning for me, one that had the figure on the roof questioning some higher power, asking for answers. A reason for living. But I now see it as someone standing out in the open on that roof, proudly displaying themself as they are for all to see. All flaws and imperfections on full display.

I guess it could be seen as symbolic of writing this blog.

Or being an artist.

Or being a human being.

Maybe. I don’t know.

Here’s a song from Little Feat that is right on point this morning. It’s a song from 1979 that I had completely forgotten until stumbling across it just a short while ago. This is Perfection Imperfection. See? Right on point.