Student Blog: Striving for Imperfection

The other day on an adventure to the Whitney Museum of American Art, I stood looking at Edward Ruscha's "Large Trademark With Eight Spotlights" with no particular enthusiasm. The painting was of a familiar image, the 20th Century Fox logo, which sparked vague memories of 3D movie glasses and sticky hands in heaping buckets of buttery popcorn. The piece was crisp, untouched, and made with sharp lines of a ruler's assistance - teasing the concept of perfection.

I didn't like it. In fact, I thought it was quite boring. "What could be captivating about something so faultless?" I quietly wondered to myself. The idea got me thinking. In a world full of artists striving for perfection, why are audiences drawn to the flawed?

It's undeniable that there is excitement in watching someone improvise a scene rather than hit every mark; deliciousness in the inhuman faces actors make when trying not to cry, and humor when cast members break character on Saturday Night Live. In the entertainment industry, there is something undoubtedly intriguing about the messy. So can striving for perfection ultimately hurt an artist?

With art being infiltrated by commercialized standards, creative genuinity is sometimes sacrificed. Young performers think the goal is to "play" human instead of "be" human, and in the end, lose themselves in synthetic humanity. However, by tapping into our imperfections as performers, we are admitting to ourselves, and our audiences, that no human is perfect. Embracing our flaws will propel us into truthful, relaxed, and nuanced performances.

The other day, I attempted to explain this concept to a friend using a jelly donut. Part of the pastry's fun is that you're constantly trying to avoid getting jelly everywhere. It may be inconvenient, but it's far more exciting than a chocolate glaze. Trying to be a "perfect" artist will result in a clean napkin. I want to leave my audience with jelly on their hands.

I'm becoming uninterested in flawless work, like Ruscha's "Large Trademark With Eight Spotlights." My studies at Tisch are teaching me to look into my imperfections, tap into my humanity, and embrace life's smudges. Our training pushes us to become deeply interested in our own blemishes, as well as our characters, and leaning into that will, hopefully, reflect in our work.

By looking towards the beauty of imperfection in our art, we are setting an example for combating insecurities that expand beyond this industry. If we show that we, as artists, are flawed, audiences may begin to reconsider their own imperfections as art, too. This synthetic, commercialized society will begin to make room for an unappreciated asset that makes us uniquely human.

So let's not put ourselves into boxes. Let's not fear the messy. Instead of putting pressure on ourselves to be perfect, let's tap into our defects. More likely than not, the spontaneity that comes with being human will be more interesting than just playing pretend.