making mistakes

i am getting back to making word art. i did a lot a while back, mostly stream of conscious writing in an artful way in which the words can't be made out but the marks are clearly words/letters. i was enthralled with how artful and mesmerizing even it was. and it allowed a lot of stuff in my brain to have a new place to live, to live in a new way. 

this is one that you mostly can make out the words but it's not to be read line by line. i did the words first then used watercolors on tops of them. and i love it.

and then i saw the typo. SMH. and left it as is. it still works; for me it now has two meanings.

nothing is perfect and no one is perfect. "perfect" is a miserable ruse, trap, illusion, conspiracy, many unhelpful and harmful things. 

i've known a long time that the American Navajo weavers always put a mistake in their rugs and other pieces. Navajo believe nothing is perfect, except for the gods, who gave them the gift of weaving. to honor them, weavers deliberately incorporate an imperfection. 

imperfections, mistakes, often make things more interesting at least, and human always.