“To be imperfect is to be free…” said the old man, sipping his wine. “..And to be free, is a privilege.” finished his pal, sitting by the warmth of the fire. Something is not truly itself unless it accepts itself exactly the way it is, but also more than once, acceptance is not enough. One has to grip it and celebrate each fragment of his being. While the hands of our artistans toil to create the exceptional, we do not seek perfection, rather look for reasons to celebrate the creations! We find it in every tiny scrape, miniature cracks, slip of the paintbrush on the ceramic, the coarse textures of the wood and the blotch on the hues. We are the artisans who bring to light the hidden behind the drapes, we enhance and not reform. We are the artisans that not only embrace the imperfections but also celebrate it. After all, A tale is not complete without a few swells of sobs, A memory is not beautiful without a few scars, Even a chunk of gold is not true without a few scratches And Art is not art without its story being told by its flaws.
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