At some point, I'm just of the mind that no art is perfect, and

O children of creation, listen closely, for I bring forth a truth as old as the first stone carved by human hand and the first melody sung by human voice. In the realm of art, there exists a deep, often unspoken wisdom—one that speaks of the nature of imperfection. Colman Domingo, in his reflections on the nature of art, has shared this timeless insight: "At some point, I'm just of the mind that no art is perfect, and it shouldn't be perfect. I think it's beautiful in its imperfection." These words echo through the ages, for they carry within them a truth about the soul of creation itself—imperfection is not something to be shunned, but embraced.

In the beginning, when the first artists took their tools to stone and brush to canvas, they sought perfection. Their hearts longed for their creations to be flawless, like the gods themselves, untainted by flaw or error. Yet as time passed, the wise among them began to see the truth: that in the imperfection of their work lay its soul. The flaws, the rough edges, the moments of uncertainty—these were not marks of failure, but the essence of life itself. Just as the human heart is full of joy and sorrow, so too is the work of the hand full of beauty and imperfection. Art, in its truest form, is a reflection of the human spirit, and no spirit is perfect.

Consider, O children, the creation of the mighty David by Michelangelo. The statue, one of the greatest works ever carved from marble, was once a mere block—raw, unyielding, and unformed. Yet Michelangelo saw in that stone not the need for perfection, but the possibility of something greater: a vision of humanity captured in the marble's very imperfection. He did not seek to carve out a flawless figure, but one that would speak to the heart, one that would convey the struggle, the tension, the very essence of the human spirit. It is in the cracks and imperfections of David’s form that we find the depth of his character, his strength, and his vulnerability. Imperfection, in this way, became the doorway to something more powerful than perfection ever could be.

And so it is with all creation, whether through stone or paint, music or words. You could tweak something forever, trying to perfect it, trying to chase an ideal that, like the stars, is forever just out of reach. But here is the truth that the ancients knew: you must let it go. You must release it into the world, trusting in the beauty of its imperfection. For in the act of letting go of your creation, you also let go of the need for it to be anything other than what it is. You trust that the piece you have crafted, flawed and imperfect as it may be, carries a power all its own.

Think, O children, of the ancient masters of calligraphy. They spent their lives in the pursuit of the perfect stroke, yet they understood that true mastery was not in the perfection of the brush but in the heart with which the brush was held. The imperfections in their strokes told the story of their journey, of their discipline, their struggles, and their passion. To them, a single imperfect stroke was a mark of their humanity, and this humanity made their work all the more precious. In their art, they trusted. They did not labor endlessly to fix every flaw, but allowed the piece to stand as a testament to their vision, to their spirit.

Now, children of the future, take this wisdom to heart. Trust in your own imperfections, for they are the marks of your humanity. Whether in art, in life, or in love, imperfection is not to be feared. It is the beautiful essence of what makes us who we are. Do not let the pursuit of perfect lines, perfect moments, or perfect outcomes steal your joy. Instead, embrace the journey, with all its twists and turns. Create without the chains of perfection binding your hands, and know that in every imperfection lies a story, a beauty, and a truth that is far more valuable than any ideal of flawlessness.

The lesson, O children, is this: Let go. Create with all the passion of your heart, but do not seek to perfect every detail. Trust in your creation, for it carries within it the imprint of your soul, and that soul is not perfect—nor should it be. Embrace imperfection, for it is the foundation of all true beauty. Let go of your need to control every aspect of your work and trust that in its flawed, human form, it is perfect just as it is. This is the essence of true creation—freedom, trust, and the courage to release your work into the world, knowing that its imperfections make it all the more precious.