The Beauty of Art

I have a slight propensity toward perfectionist tendencies. I have been known to chase down complete strangers in order to "fix" their backpack or bag zippers (the two zippers should always be together and centered on the bag and aligned with other zipper couples).

Ok, “slight” might be an understatement.

There are certainly some tasks where we should strive for perfection. Even Coach Lombardi reminds us to chase unattainable perfection in order to catch excellence. Otherwise, we can fall victim to the negative side to perfectionism: doubts, concerns and pressure of being perfect (or at least trying to be perfect).

The last place I expect to be striving for perfection or excellence is on vacation in Greece, unless the skill I’m striving for is relaxation and mindlessness. So after a day of mindlessly relaxing, I’m perusing coasters in the quaint store of a local artisan. 

Hand-made, individually-crafted coasters are stacked on the table in front of me. Having recently hiked to the the town of Oia on the northwestern tip of Santorini, I am drawn to gorgeous, crisp, aqua-colored coasters mimicking the classic blue and white skyline of Greece. Painted in high-contrast silver on each coaster are the images of two  fish.  

Committed to buying this coaster, I also realize I can’t have just one (thank you Lay’s Potato Chips). I sort through the stack, looking for a match. Undeterred by the amount of coasters I have to look through, I am rewarded with a coaster identical to the one I have already picked out. A perfect pair! 

Thrilled by the hunt and motivated by the challenge, I seek out a third coaster to match the pair. Soon, I have it! I hold in my hands a trio of coasters where all six fish are oriented in the same direction, their bright silver coats popping vibrantly, and identically, from the rich blue background.

In a textbook exhibition of compulsive buying disorder, I frantically forage through the yet un-foraged coasters, looking for “just one more” to round out my set.

Ironically, or coincidentally, compulsive buying disorder is also known as oniomania, which is rooted in the Greek language. The word is made up of “sale” and “insanity,” but obviously it’s lost something in translation because I can stop anytime I want. Which will be after I find this fourth coaster. Maybe.

The artist comes over to see what this insane American is looking for. I show him my perfect pair (plus one). I enlist his help in looking for the last piece of his handiwork to square off my set. 

Together we sift through coasters and with his undiscerning eye he chooses coasters with off-centered fish, lackluster silver painted fish and once even a coaster with THREE FISH! In critiquing his selections, I realize I’m also criticizing his artistry. But instead of offense, he takes pride in the things I’m pointing out.

He laughs and with a twinkle in his eye says, "The beauty of art is in its imperfection.”

Damn.

Drop coaster.

There is so much truth and power in his simple statement.

I grab a fourth coaster (it has two fish at least … I’m not a monster) and pay my imperfection mentor. 

Now I have a set of four imperfectly-matched coasters to remind me that perfect is the enemy of good. 

I try to see the beauty in life’s imperfections but I still struggle. I do try to leave strangers' backpack zippers alone, for the most part. What can I say? I'm an imperfect work in progress.