Making the ‘perfect’ wheel-thrown ceramic form is an extension of my obsessive compulsive disorder. But what is it to be imperfect? And does anyone actually notice? I related intimately to each vessel I made. I made hundreds, but kept only a few. The one that is ‘imperfect’ you may not notice at first, surrounded by its ‘perfect’ cousins. Surrounded and protected; blending in unnoticeably. This was my experience, too. Friends supported me as I became more open about my need to be perfect. I named it, acknowledged it, claimed it. It is who I am. I chose connection over perfection.
Sydney Grammar School