I recently became acquainted with this word through my online “Year of Painting class.” Alena Hennesy, the instructor uses this word frequently as she illustrates her process of intuitive painting on her videos. Wabi-sabi in short means “perfectly imperfect” Let go, let the process unfold.
I tend towards the perfectionism. As I watched the warm-up video and then looked at other’s work being posted I was paralyzed with fear. This process was way out of my comfort zone- but part of the reason for taking this class was to loosen up.
I started my first piece resisting the urge to recycle my first attempt mid-way and start over. Eventually, I worked through my fear, completed and accepted it. The piece is too bright and busy for my tastes, but others found it pleasing. It can only get easier after taking the first step. I started a small, scary journey and finished, perfectly imperfect.
Wabi-sabi, another of my words for the New Year.
skewed forms. I gave up working on the wheel in ceramics shunning symmetry for wonky, sometimes smooshed, handbuilt pieces. The female figure became a lovely opportunity to distort and exaggerate. There are often holes where breasts 
should be, with huge hips & thighs going counter to what our culture celebrates.
When I began teaching (I started late), I changed the Ms. in my name to Mz. Pass. When students questioned that choice I responded that I really liked the letter Z. It was a horribly underused letter of the alphabet and I thought it worked better in this application. That explanation seemed to satisfy their 6th-grade minds.
shoulder, whispering in your ear that your work is not good enough. You need to try harder. You need to do more for it to pass muster. But you’re never quite satisfied and you’re filled with lingering doubt about the value of your work, and worse, yourself. It is the enemy of creativity. When I speak of perfectionism, I am not equating it with the precision required of a brain surgeon or a rocket scientist. This kind of perfectionism does not lead to positive outcomes. It often goes hand in hand with unhappiness & anxiety.
Looking at my work now, one would never know that I am a recovering perfectionist. My artwork is often playful, spontaneous, & made of torn paper or clay forms that have intentionally been altered or misshapen in some way. I gravitate towards the asymmetrical & wonky shapes that you might find in a Dr. Suess book. It’s my private rebellion against perfection. In a roundabout way, I’m rejecting the notion that our bodies must conform to a perfect ideal as celebrated by our culture.
the piece and not a machine.
By Alanna Pass 