Picture Imperfect

I dreamt of rapid movement nude sketching. I remember feeling thrilled because the model was big and knew how to pose. A performance of bowed lines dancing with light and shadow.

I think they're extremely beautiful-- the fat, the old, the hunched, the ungraceful, the unkempt, the asymmetrical. They possess more character and lend more emotion to a sketch than the common specimen of 'perfection'.

I find myself in awe of deep lines etched by time on a man's forehead, of veins like a twisted wreath on a woman's bony hand, of hair left tousled by wind and disregard, of a round belly embracing a healthy torso, of form so exquisite in its imperfection.

We are surrounded by so much beauty, if we look but with kinder eyes.