Perfect

I was about 10 or 11 years old when I went on a series of trips with my precocious classmates at School 80 to the John Herron Art Museum. As I recall, our teacher, B.J. Frey, taught us every subject except French and gym, and she especially loved art. So off to Herron we went each week.

On one of our first trips a docent pulled an Egyptian scarab out of the display case and held it in her hand, turning it over to reveal the underside. She told us that the makers always carved a deliberate flaw into such works so as not to anger the gods.

I later learned that this is either my faulty memory, or the docent was confused. I'm told the Egyptians did not practice the art of making deliberate mistakes, though some weaving cultures did--perhaps West Asian. But it didn't matter--I was transfixed by the idea that a human being could create something so perfect that the gods would be threatened. Nearly 40 years later I would encounter an idea somewhat like this--again at Herron--when the wood shop supervisor was giving a demonstration on stretcher building. He was completely meticulous about his measurements, accounting for the width of the saw blade in every cut. "Why not be perfect," he asked. Why not? Why not? Who says you can't make something perfect?