THE AESTHETIC OF ANTI-PERFECTION

Keywords: modified, repurposed, found, salvaged

What is the “anti-perfection” aesthetic?

It is appreciating the beauty in imperfection, but it’s also more than that. Anti-perfection seeks out the imperfect. Anti-perfection loves a flaw. An anti-perfectionist actively chooses and loves the thing that’s a little wonky.

Anti-perfection eschews perfectionism for its impossibility. It loathes perfectionism for its wasteful ways. Perfectionism, it believes, led us to this: comparing mind, stress, self doubt, and, most importantly, environmental disaster.

The solution is to love the imperfect.   

Anti-perfection as it pertains to our home means we appreciate its oddities. We take care of it — anti-perfectionism isn’t about letting things go to shit. Rather, we learn to see the beauty in our home as it is. When it comes to the upgrade and repair of our homes, what a relief it is to arrive at this anti-perfect moment. 

Today’s post is offered in the spirit of inspiration, and inviting you to love what you already have. We’ll talk about Wabi Sabi, a good friend of the anti-perfect. We’ll talk about the bad habit of perfectionism. Finally, we’ll talk about tips and tricks for finding beauty in an anti-perfect home.

Wabi Sabi as a way in

In food, anti-perfection is eating the bruised tomato, or eating, nose-to-tail, the whole animal. We have witnessed the results of the pursuit of the perfect tomato, which is excessive use of pesticides and fertilizer runoff into waterways. Organic is anti-perfection and, as you know, organic tastes delicious. 

The Japanese concept Wabi Sabi comes to mind, as a way to understand anti-perfectionism. 

When I was in my twenties, I lived and practiced at a Zen Buddhist monastery called Tassajara. It was very remote. We had some solar power, but not a lot, so we used kerosene lamps. We had hot water from a natural hot spring. We were really cold in the winter, without heat in our rooms. We dunked our bodies in the creek in the summer to cool off. 

One summer, a senior monk offered a class on zen and poetry. We explored all sorts of poetry forms related to zen, from haiku to waka and other forms I can’t remember the names of. We read Basho, Ryokan, Santoka Taneda, Ikkyu, and others. There were poems from Japan, China, and Korea. 

Thinking about the people in this floating world far into the night—

My sleeve is wet with tears

Ryokan, from One Robe, One Bowl

Because its influence is so pervasive in Asian poetry, our teacher took some time interpreting Wabi and Sabi for us. Wabi is desolation, rusticity. Sabi is isolation, aloneness. Wabi is a little mournful, plaintive. Sabi is an intimate discovery, a respect for the history of a thing; that there is an unexpected – and unintended– beauty in something that’s very old.

Even if it’s familiar, though, the idea of Wabi Sabi is a novelty to westerners. It might be easy enough to conjure the image of a zen garden, the ancient rocks surrounded by moss, a weathered, dead branch. But how do we see it in our non-Japanese homes? 

There’s a hint of something negative, slightly painful in Wabi Sabi. Also, there’s a little wistfulness, a little romantic dreaming. I think of this all as part of seeing deeply the impermanence of things, which is not exactly at the center of our Western culture. But everyone knows about impermanence, whether its the too-short-lived chocolate bar or the loss of a parent.

Our homes are epicenters of impermanence. So finding an orientation that allows you to love and see the beauty in both the strength and the frailty of our homes is a worthy goal.

Perfectionism is a bad habit

Loving what is cracked is not easy. Anti-perfection challenges us to go against the grain, actually. Our Western society is insidiously compelled by perfectionism. We see it in body size and appearance, in education, in athletics, and in the appearance of our homes. As a result, we are either driven to the point of compulsion or overwhelmed to the point of collapse. 

I can think of a number of clients who were really challenged just to reach out to me because of their “home shame.” One woman greeted me at the door for our first meeting with a whole speech about what to expect and how embarrassed she was. I walked into a tidy house with some slightly saggy kitchen cabinets. That was it. I didn’t see an embarrassing situation anywhere. 

Not that I am innocent of having too high standards for my own home. Anti-perfectionism is an ongoing practice.

I recently had a friend over and, after welcoming him inside, asked, “does my house smell?”

“Yes,” he said.

“It does?!” OMG I DIED.

“Yes, a little woodsy, a little spicy.” He was being nice.

I launched into all my concerns – the age of my house, the amount of rain, that maybe the smell is coming from the blah blah blah. I have been obsessed with the smell of my old house. It’s different when it rains. It’s different in the winter. Worry does nothing for it. Why do I worry? Why does anyone worry about what other people think of their home? Why!? It’s a bad habit.

The thing is, no one cares. No one cares and this concern is a waste of my and your precious energy. 

What’s worse, in a societal sense, is that this kind of perfectionist thinking drives people to spend money they don’t need to spend and waste materials they don’t need to waste. (Or fill the air with chemical scents to mask the smell of an old and amazing home.)

My kitchen before renovations. My tape measure and drawing drafts are on the table. My Aunt bought me flowers as a welcome to your new old home gift.

Anti-perfection challenge

The challenge, really, is learning to see with fresh eyes. This is a big part of what I do. I talk up all the beauty in people’s homes. It helps to create a connection and to get them talking about what they really love. 

Try this: invite a friend over for tea. Ask them to tell you what’s working in your home. Ask for positive feedback only. Have them point out all the things they see that they like. Then offer to do the same for them.

I challenge you to appreciate something imperfect about your home. Start with the things that are clearly beautiful. Then find something you don’t like about your home. Name the problem. It doesn’t work? It’s dated? Repair it if it’s broken. Anti-perfection isn’t about ignoring what your home needs.

30 year old pink tile? Wabi sabi is there.

An old office chair has a shape, a line, a texture. See it anew. I’m serious.

If it’s dated, you might google around to see if it’s actually trending. You would be surprised at the sweep of the anti-perfection movement taking hold. Modified, repurposed, found, salvaged, and patchwork are all trending. Embrace what you already own and repair it, reupholster it, repurpose it, patch it. 

Lucas Muñoz office chairs

Anti-perfection tips and tricks

Explore texture. Do you have any nubby textiles like linen or something patchwork? Patchwork is a trend very much on the rise. 

Enjoy furniture that conveys cozy comfort, like wicker.

Avoid chaos. Use symmetry, or a single sinuous line, to help pull the space together. 

Clear. The. Clutter. Perfectionism is the driver of consumption and therefor clutter. Clearing clutter is a secret ingredient to anti-perfectionism. Upgraded containers that tucks the necessary things away creates an uncomplicated, effortless vibe.

Add a warm golden glow with lighting. 

Accentuate contrast by playing up daylight and shadows. Discover new patterns, shapes, and therefore relationships to space. (this is the most underutilized interior design skill.)

Remember, anti-perfection is about keeping it simple, being intimate with the impermanence of all things, and loving the cracks, the age, and the patina. 

Add your voice in the comments. Are you an anti-perfectionist? What’s that like? What’s a thing you love that’s imperfect?

Thanks for reading!