As you may know, I’m dealing with an imperfection. I had an accident with my latest jeweled creation. It was preceded by a failed design and a mistake on my part. The last straw–a broken stone–completed its ruination. At least that’s what I thought.
In attempts to learn from the experience and draw some otherwise invisible insights, I dug deep into my thoughts and researched the literature on imperfections in art.
Shih nih bi-teen
Turns out, I already knew about the Navajo concept of including an imperfection in their art. Into the woven wool blankets and rugs for which the Navajo are famous are purposeful flaws.
“A blanket must have an outlet… a mere thread of a different color or a slight, apparently accidental, break in the border pattern, which looks like an imperfection. But if it were omitted, the woman might get the blanket sickness and lose her mind.” –From www.navajopeople.org.
The purpose of the purposeful imperfection is to allow evil spirits a place to exit the design. Its creativity is compromised without a hole or other imperfection to usher out the ‘bad’ built into the piece. Also, the maker–the artist herself–can become ill from the harbored evil.
Shih nih bi-teen is the Navajo word meaning “mind my road” in a literal translation. The creative idea includes a part of the mind the maker has put into the piece. It apparently requires an outlet from the art, the “road,” if you will. Block that road or trap your psyche inside the art and you’re headed for creative insanity, perhaps.
Interpretation
Traditional Navajo practices–and this is one–often require some interpretation for non-Native-American contemporaries like myself. In modern day parlance, Navajo ‘blanket sickness’ might translate to the psychological problems we all seem to face daily or the dementia associated with retired mature folks cranking out handcrafts all day.
An interpretation I’m considering right now is that the initial flawed design, mistake of omission, and the final irreversible imperfection of the necklace saved me from losing my mind. From what? From too many consecutive hours at the bench in thin air of the cold, lonely Rocky Mountains with no one but the four walls and gemstone components for company, save an occasional comment about the economy collapsing from my husband.
What makes it work?
I don’t know, but the curious Navajo custom gave me food for thought. It relates in several aspects to my imperfect necklace. I’m still pondering the Navajo practice and what it might mean for me.
Maybe a drop of Navajo blood in one’s veins makes the imperfection work its magic. My blood, unfortunately, carries no drops of that variety. My quest for a “continuance,” nevertheless, will go on.
Source:
http://navajopeople.org/navajo-pottery.htm