The Art of Failing at Art
All art is innately subject to failure, and in a retrospective view (albeit my own personal view), I feel that the failure within art is what gives it greater beauty. As a pseudo art major ie: Creative Writing Major, I found that the mechanical aspect of fixing every crack within your creations was at first very frustrating, in both writing and craftsmanship. Though all those failures irked me, I eventually learned to evade and rework these mistakes as fluidly as water. It eventually became a natural state, where I could reflect on the time that I had spent working toward something that would ultimately fold, though after every fold I did not relent, and so they became less persistent. I felt that this reflective lens of growth was beautiful on its own, and that the beauty of progress and devotion had mirrored the beauty of art itself.
My first reflection of this was after staying in the ceramics studio for over five hours, coming out the room covered in clay, without a singular completed piece to my name. Piece after piece, the bowls and cups had collapsed within themselves. Through each failure there was this inward reflection toward what I had done. Where I had perceived time as a valuable commodity, I pondered whether the time I had indulged in these failed ceramics was worthwhile. I found that ultimately, beyond the grasp of oversaturated clay, a lineage of failed pots existed only as memories to my skill. Ghosts of lineage that lived on through my success of craftsmanship, and I perceived the noble creation of these “ghost pots” as very worthwhile. Yet I did not despair–for their art lied in the creation and knowledge of their existence rather than its continuity.
I began to understand that failure shouldn’t be held entirely with disdain, but rather be received with grateful humility and kindness. If it were not for the art of failing–and accepting that these things will not be perfect from conception–there would be far less enjoyment within the craftsmanship one pursues. It is important to remember that you should always be kind to your work (even if failures), for that can be the beginning to the ghost lineage of something great.
