perfection

I've been thinking about perfection lately. A lot.

I spent more than a decade honing my quilting and applique skills. It's something I'm very good at, and I taught for years, but over time I got absolutely sick of hearing people say that my quilting or applique work was ... "perfect."

Perfect is what computer graphics can give you. Perfection is straight, even, uniform and (not to mince words) strikes me as absolutely lifeless. Dead. Static. It's not something I strive for.

Brenda Papadakis, doyenne of Dear Jane quilt patterns and enabler of maniacal quilters everywhere, has a saying (trademarked, no less): "Finished is better than perfect." I agree one hundred percent.

Just for the record - I've been to Bennington just to see the original Jane Stickle quilt.
I've delved deeply into the Dear Jane patterns - here and here are examples of my hand pieced blocks. I've even ventured off into some of the Jane Austen/Jane Stickle inspired diamond blocks designed by Linda Franz. (Diamond blocks can be seen here and here.)

I'm not sure when I realized that perfect, to me, was not a compliment. Perfect is a word I associate with a burden. An expectation. A weight of responsibility that stands beyond reasonable human ability. Perfection or precision may be required in aerospace technology. In manufacturing precision tools. But in the realm of handwork such as quilting or knitting, it is a curse.

You can spend more time tinking, ripping, and fixing mistakes than making forward progress. When I've taught hand quilting, I've always told people not to undo stitches to make them more even, but to continue forward, and just keep going. The amount of time spent ripping out uneven quilting stitches is far slower than just continuing and getting more practice - going forward in a positive way rather than wasting time undoing things that aren't.... 'perfect.'

I've seen so many people, mostly women, torture themselves with the ideal of a perfect finished object. Why? Why do we expect that the works of our hands will be flawless? And why do we want them to be? I'm not advocating someone ripping out good work and artificially inserting some kind of random mistake just for the sake of oddity. If your work is good, leave it be. But what is it that drives us to such intense impossibly high standards and, by association, such intense self-criticism? Do you really want something you made to look like it came out of a plastic-wrapped package or from a department store shelf? Uniform and inspected by quality control engineer #100034?

Somehow, perfect strikes me as less than human. And that's not something I'm trying to acheive.

Comments

[Lazy]

Finished is better than perfect - absolutely!

[Laurie]

Your point about spending too much time to fix past stitches, and not learning as much in the process as going forward, hits home. Women, in varying quantities through the years, are SO taught that perfection is a goal. Unlearning it is HARD.

[Kim]

I agree that perfection is more of an ideal than a reality. I always leave one of my errors in any large item that I produce...more than one, though, I do try to fix, even when it is only for me. I like to think that I am as important as the person I might sell something too ;-)

[Laurie]

You are perfectly correct.

That said, I rip back often and more frequently of late, mostly because I want to change/fix "features" that I KNOW will drive me crazy if I leave them. Hems, for example, and neckbands which I often do AFTER the fact. I am all too aware that, if I have knit the sweater/shawl/shrug/pair of socks for myself, I will be annoyed by whatever it is and may simply not wear said item. Equally, I "fix" problems in gift knitting when I know that they will bug me during the knitting process.

However, I do allow more latitude in my spinning, both in dyeing and in yarn thickness, because experience has revealed that even less-than-perfect yarn works up well and those irregularities in thickness, for example, do not really affect the final product.

Maybe each person has to decide where and when s/he needs "the perfect" rather than "the finished"? Nonetheless, I absolutely agree that we need to recognize when going forward is more important than "fixing."

Felting comes to mind :)

[Cathy]

I was knitting last night on a Kiri shawl, and discovered 2 stitches were missing. I looked, i couldn't find them, couldn't figure out how to pick any extra up, and finally decided to just knit in the front and back of a couple of stitches in that section to make it all happy again. I honestly don't think anyone is going to know except me--and now you. Even if this wasn't going to be a gift, I'd probably still do the same thing. Forward progress! I'm not going to rip out a whole pattern repeat trying to find 2 stitches.

[sara]

yeah - ok - point taken (says the one about to rip out a section of the lace that is driving her absolutely mad b/c AGAIN some stitches are missing) - but where does one draw the line? uneven stitches I understand - leave 'em be. But missing stitches such that the pattern looks somewhat wonky? Hmm. Off to think whether the wonkiness would show up from a moving horse passing by...I suppose.

[Cara]

Yeah. Perfect's not so good when it lands you in therapy for 10+ years and literally drives you a bit insane. ;-)

That's why I love knitting so much. I think, almost by definition, hand knits cannot be perfect. Or at least, only as perfect as the knitter. ;-)

[Judy]

I learned about perfection years ago when I made pillows for the Shelburne Museum gift shop. The designs were taken directly from the quilts. We used tracing paper and drew from the quilts so I got to see these beauties very close up. Well, they are not perfect by any means but from a distance one never notices that they aren't perfect. In fact they look spectacular! As an aside, most of the pillows I made were techically better than the originals [ because mine were perfect!] but they lacked the charm of the originals.
We try to make things the best we can but it's better to be not so fixed on it so one can actually enjoy it.

[JoVE]

very well said. And keeps the sense that we are always striving to do better while accepting that we make mistakes.

[Wendy]

I am SO with you on this. I've seen people knit and rip, knit and rip, knit and rip -- all in the attempt to achieve perfection. I am a huge fan of glorious imperfection!

Someone (totally not into crafts) once gave me a cross-stitched picture as a gift, because she had been the recipient of many handknit gifts from me, and she wanted to show her appreciation in kind. The stitches are sometimes crooked, some a little "off" in other ways. I cherish this little picture more than I can say. If the giver was stirving for perfection and spent time picking out her misshapen stitches instead of forging on, I wouldn't have this little treasure.

[bibliotecaria]

Yes, but...
Perfect can have more than one meaning.
When I look at someone wearing clothes that suit them perfectly, it's not dead or lifeless or an impossibly high standard, it's a description of how well they go together. When I give someone a gift that's perfect for them, it means that I know them well enough to know exactly what they like and how much they will enjoy it. Is that a definition you can live with?
On the other hand, I do agree that finished is better than perfect -- although sometimes that will take me a long time! But then, I'm enjoying the process.
bibliotecaria

[Rachel H]

I'm realizing the need to be perfect, or at least better, or able to do it all All The Time as an enormous burden in my life right now. It's creating monumental stress which has pushed me almost to the breaking point, and denying me pleasure or sense of accomplishment in the things I do. And I don't think that's right. Why is it that when I wore my first hand knit socks to work, even though I was proud enough of them to show them to everyone, I felt the need to point out the mistakes I'd made to people who would never, ever have known the difference? Or that when showing someone a blanket I'm making for my nephew's Christening, something I've put dozens of hours into and learned new knitting skills for, I start describing it with "it's not perfect, but..." and have a sense that it won't end up being good enough, because I know what I didn't do right?

I'm sorry to ramble and be so personal, but I guess this just touched a nerve today. Thank you, though. I do like how your posts make me sit and consider things in the bigger picture.

[Carole]

I have a wonderful friend who is also a quilt teacher and her motto is, "There are no mistakes, only design decisions." Sometimes you just have to let it go and leave it be. Don't the Amish deliberately put a mistake in their quilts because only God can be perfect? The beauty of hand made objects is their uniqueness - you and me and everyone else in the blogosphere could sit down and knit the same pattern with the same yarn and it's going to come out differently because we all knit in our own way - even if the finished work is free from mistakes, it will be different from everyone elses. The same goes with quilts. My quilt group occasionally takes on a project that we all do together - and everyone's looks completely different. Unique is better than perfect.

[Liz]

That's why I am such a fan of wabi-sabi...the beauty of the imperfect.

[--Deb]

Perfection is overrated. Soulless. At least, in craft work. (If, however, you're, say, in a space ship orbiting the planet, you REALLY want the fellows at Grunnings or wherever to have done their work perfectly. But that's science, not art.) My quilting isn't perfect, nor is my knitting, but it's good and everything holds together and is satisfying and reasonably visually appealing. And, let's not forget, keeps me warm. Inside and outside. What could be more perfect?

[Lee Ann]

It's quality control engineer #100039 that scares the crap out of me.

(said the woman with uneven miniskeins and unfinished projects hanging on every doornob and covering every surface... ;-))

[claudia]

Those darn expectations. You try rubbing them out. And scrubbing them out....

[Jan]

While attempting to learn any craft, the goal of most is to continually refine skills to some point of mastery. In quilting, that would translate into points that match, smooth edged applique and even, small stitches. There is always a satisfaction in attaining these goals after continued practice. That said, you know I totally agree with you about the dead, static quality of perfection in quilting. Because I, too, am a recovering perfectionist.
I think this is a difficult topic to present and be understood (especially if you are the perfectionist!) but you hit the nail on the head. Let's have more joy in the making, the finishing and the using and less emphasis on the perfecting.

[Beth S.]

Wow, Cassie. Were you at one point attempting to reproduce the entire quilt? I used to have the Dear Jane book, but for me it was strictly eye candy. While I thought the quilt was breathtaking, I knew I wouldn't ever have the patience and stamina to piece it.

"Better is the enemy of good"--another variant of the sentiment in your post.

[Lauren]

Lorna's asked me if I used a knitting machine to knit the socks I did for them. I was happy for a minute and then sad. You want to be more than a machine. And at least clearly different.

[ann]

thank you for a wonderfully thoughtful entry. The next time I am eyeballing my work, I am going to remember these words!

[margene]

When I did Japanese Embroidery our sensai always said we were 'stitching TOWARDS perfection'. We were always told to go 'forward' and not take anything out more than twice. Every stitch made took you a step towards the goal. If you are only striving for perfection you miss the journey. Trying to be perfect can stop you in your tracks every time a simple mistake is made. Mistakes are part of the process.
Well said, Cassie!

[Juno]

I use perfect all the time, but I don't use it for flawless, inhuman, machine-like, mistake-free things, I use it for oh, moments that are exactly right - exactly right being a lot different from completely correct.

But I know what you mean. It is terribly easy to get hung up on the mistake - I have the Truffle sweater tucked away when it needs only a collar and one sleeve - because I hate the way I did the increases. I can't go back, that would be silly, but I can't go forward either.

Finished is better.

Thanks for reminding me.

[regina]

Well said. I think the desire for perfection is instilled in a lot of kids very early by overzealous (but well-intentioned) parents. I think we all know of parents who say "A 98 on your math test? What about the other 2%?". That impossible-to-attain goal has messed with the self-esteem of far too many people I have known. I have to admit that i've never aimed that high (and maybe that's a character flaw in an of itself -- who knows?). I do look at other people's beautiful work mostly with admiration and sometimes awe (which is occasionally tinged with a tiny bit of envy), but I tell myself that mine will keep getting better with time. I'm just so proud that I actually possess the ability to make things in which I can dress myself and my children (flawed though they may be). Ultimately, to borrow Margene's mantra "it's the process."

[Bethany]

I know of a perfectionist quilter. Technically her works are beautiful. Perfect. But I prefer my MIL's quilts. Wonderful, but not absolutely perfect. You can feel her in the quilts.

I've only ever made a small quilt top. If I'd been worried about it being perfect I would never have been able to start it. I don't sew. I was always afraid of the sewing machine. I'd never made a quilt. I had no idea about the rules. But I was inspired by the Gee's Bend quilters, so I cut up old clothes and had a great day sewing them together. It was incredibly freeing not knowing how I was supposed to do it, and yet going ahead and doing it anyway. And of course, it isn't perfect, but I still love it, and I love the memory of how I felt making it. Some day I'll get to the quilting part of it.

With my knitting I'm getting better at deciding what can be left alone, and what can be ripped.