At nineteen years old I stood on the rooftop of a “pensione” in Florence, Italy looking at the buildings across from me. I stared at a plethora of crooked, colourful, weathered, wood shutters that prevented the late afternoon sun from entering the dwellings of those who lived across from where I stood. It was late June and I could feel the humidity stick to my skin. I stared in amazement because even though the sight before me was aged, damaged and flawed, all I saw was beauty.
Via designsponge.com
That moment will be etched in my memory for as long as I live. It was my first experience marvelling at the foreign land I had decided to travel to alone as a very young woman. I realized then that beauty doesn’t exist in perfection, but rather in imperfection.
For me beauty can’t be found in perfection because to begin with perfection is an ideal that doesn’t exist and can’t really be achieved. Beauty to me isn’t the flawless, photo-shopped picture of a super model, but rather the model once you remove the computer effects and make-up. Beauty isn’t the unscathed, perfectly polished piece of furniture, but furniture that may reveal some slight bumps and bruises.
Via 500px.com
Wood and furniture that show signs of being marked by time and weather are beautiful. They are like people who allow themselves to age gracefully and naturally. Like each wrinkle on a person’s face speaks of experiences lived, each crack and scuff on a piece of wood furniture speaks of its origins and its journey into a person’s home. Imperfections are signs of character.
Eyal, the co-owner of Artemano, shared a story with me. He told me of a woman who came to the Artemano warehouse in search not of the perfect dining room table, but of the “perfect crack”. This woman understood and agreed with our philosophy that beauty exists in imperfection.
Just take a look at nature. It’s by no means perfect, but aren’t we all in awe when we stand in its midst?
Let me know what you think in the comments section below.
Main image Via 500px.com