I have a fondness for unfinished works of art. Strolling through artist workshops, I am often most intrigued by works in progress because they give me a glimpse into the artist’s creative process. I love to read snippets of writing – the beginnings of poems and first drafts of my son’s essays. I’ve rescued lone quilt blocks meant for greater things.
When I come across an unfinished work in a thrift shop, I wonder if the work was left undone due to fate or circumstance.
I wonder if the artist became frustrated with the result or perhaps, as with the despair I feel over the last pages of a really good book, he just couldn’t bear to finish.
Or maybe the art is enhanced by its incompleteness. Unfinished works can still be masterpieces.
I picked up this small unfinished painting and these portrait postcards at a quirky little shop in a heap of odds and ends. And on the back of the postcard, there was this message . . . about love and acceptance.
Aren’t we all works in progress? As we live our lives, we are shaped by our experiences, colored by the people we meet and the things we share. The years go by, and we have a clearer picture of who we are gazing backward, looking forward. We are lovely though incomplete, which is, perhaps, our beauty.