I’ve been working on a framing project for a piece of Indian art that’s precious to me. Sanjhi art is the traditional art of stenciling from Mathura, Krishna’s hometown. My piece is of a classical Indian dancer and cost less than ten dollars but it contains multitudes for me― the vibrancy and creative expressions of my culture, and a connection to my brother whom I bought it with. I had a vision to mount it on a piece of wood with gold blazing through the stenciled dancing woman. I bought rosewood, gold foil, varnishes, and glues to experiment with. Every step demanded problem solving in ways that were new to me.
At a key step in the process, when the foil reacted differently to the varnish on the rosewood than it had during test runs, I started feeling the stress of imminent failure and thoughts of having irreversibly butchered the piece started taking hold. Then another thought glimmer shone through to break this pattern: “So what!!?? Isn’t this a part that I’m ok with messing up? I can always get more foil or another piece of wood.” This seemingly minor shift in perspective made it so that I could keep trying.
It’s hard to swallow errors when we really care about the outcome. We may look at the whole project as if it’s precious but often only some parts truly are. Seeing this way we may notice that we’re extrapolating from the precious core and letting it color the whole, potentially stymying our ability to experiment and innovate. When faced with emotionally high stakes trial and error, we can isolate the less precious parts by asking “what’s the worst that can happen here” and if the answer isn’t that dire, we can keep ploughing through.
The piece didn’t turn out exactly as I had envisioned―the wood looks a bit darker and glossier, and she looks more translucent ―but it turned out pretty darn good. I wouldn’t have come even close if I let the idea of her preciousness inhibit my progress. I would still be tentatively tinkering on the sidelines, never fully jumping in or doing any real work. This helped me see that while my professional goals may feel massive and precious, the two things I truly care about are: the impact my work has on my customers and the culture of the organization; the rest isn’t as precious.
“Process saves us from the poverty of our intentions.” ― Elizabeth King, American sculptor and writer
