Lockdown - Day 18

Nobody is perfect, says Osgood in the memorable final scene of Some Like It Hot. And it's true indeed. Nobody is perfect. Yet perfection remains a goal in many respects. Not in the world of art. According to a famous quote, whose authorship is unclear, a work of art is never completed, merely abandoned. By and large, artists know full well that real perfection is unattainable. And those who strive to achieve it may never come to anything. For that reason an old Italian adage reminds us that perfect is the enemy of good. However, perfectionists do exist. Who are they? People that don't accept anything short of flawless. In itself that is not necessarily a bad thing. Many of my favorite writers, musicians and filmmakers are/were pathologically obsessive about their craft and, while their all-consuming passion may have been a tragedy for their families, the fruits of their labor are a pleasure to all of us. Their obsession took them to the heights of excellence for which they are celebrated.

Why this sermon? Because over the next few days we are going to concentrate on the use of prepositions. Yes. I'm putting together a presentation about it (which I'll keep reasonably short this time). The reason behind it lies in the occasional mistakes you make when you choose an appropriate structure and the right words, but fail to use the correct preposition.

Don't worry. I'm all for imperfection, but within certain parameters. As advanced speakers, you're expected to make, well, "advanced mistakes". Mixing up gender pronouns or using the wrong tense does not belong in that category. Neither does the use of the wrong preposition. So be ready to work on those humble words.

That said, I think we should all take a chill pill and look East. Ex oriente lux, right? In Japan, aesthetic perfection is sometimes regarded with an arched eyebrow. I'm not talking about sleek cellphones or fancy cars. I'm talking about day-to-day life. Just a week ago, I brought up some beautiful Japanese terms one of which was kintsugi. If you want to know what it's about you should watch the video below these lines. Coming to terms with kintsugi goes a long way towards understanding why what we call imperfection may actually represent a meaningful, deeper form of beauty. So now you know. Whenever you submit a less than perfect essay you can always play the kintsugi card and try and convince me that the problem is not your command of the English language. You're simply embracing zen buddhism.

N.B. Tomorrow (Friday) you'll get an email with exercises that we will discuss in our next videoconference.