Finding beauty

In Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery there are a series of sketches of women by the pre-raphaelite painter Edward Burne-Jones. They are the preparatory designs for a painting, and with their sketched outlines, muted colours and slightly unfinished quality, I really like them.

While I haven't actually seen the real painting, there's a photo of it next to the series. It is bright and vibrant, painted with an assured hand ... and while I am not questioning the great artistic talent, and the time and effort which went into 'perfecting' the final version ... I personally like it far less than the sketches it accompanies.


This poem was inspired by reflecting on that reality.

How often

Do we wait?

Hoping for finished perfection

The vibrant colours of an assured hand

 Contained in these smooth, defined outlines

But this is already beauty

Hidden in the soft lines and blurred edges

In the hesitant shading of an uncertain hand

In the muted colours of drafted designs

So often

We wait

Hoping for finished perfection

The definitive answers to the questions of our time

And somehow neatly-packaged lives

Until looking back

Perhaps we glimpse

That this is already beauty

Hidden in the soft lines and blurred edges

In the hesitant steps into our swirling doubts

In the muted colours of our daily lives

Until we learn

Perhaps

That beauty is not only about completed form

It is found

Here

In the process of creation

In this

Our own

Unfinished

Perfection