In the not too distant future, ballet, music, and sport will be performed perfectly by robots. Every position and every movement choreographed with a precision that a human could never possibly achieve in their lifetime. A robot performer will never fall. They will never be out of sync; never go out-of-bounds. Every jump, catch and note as fluid and majestic as can be.
Boring, huh?
Humans watch other humans strive to do things perfectly because it’s rare that it will ever be perfect. Even the most awarded, respected, consistently performing master of their craft will, on occasion, have an off day. A prima ballerina may tumble. A football player will miss a penalty kick sometimes. A musician will miss a note in their performance of The Flight of the Bumblebee. These are the moments we tell our friends about after it’s over, “Did you see her fall? Did you see him miss that catch? Can you believe it?!”
Failure, in the pursuit of perfection, is exciting to onlookers. Often, the bits that I dislike most about a painting that I complete are the bits that draw the most interest from the observer. It reveals a chink in the armour. The vulnerability they notice reminds them that they aren’t alone–that we’re flawed. That, in the long run, we’ll never attain ‘perfect’. But that doesn’t mean we won’t stop trying. When the risk is gone, so is the anticipation and excitement of the reward.