Why You Shouldn’t Be Afraid to Make Ugly Things #
Creating things has been a constant part of my life. I can trace it back to school activities—crafting, building, taking things apart to understand how they work—and to memories of my dad tinkering in the garage, repairing whatever broke around the house. That hands-on approach has always been in my bones, but the real shift came during the pandemic. COVID-19 threw all of us into a state of forced reflection, and with it came the realization that I could try making things for myself, even if they were imperfect—especially if they were imperfect.
A Forced Pause, A New Opportunity #
With supply chains suddenly disrupted and a world on pause, it became clear that a lot of things I used to rely on were harder to get. You couldn’t order a new bookshelf or a set of drapes on a whim. Amazon Prime wasn’t as reliable as it once was. But rather than feeling helpless, I started wondering: What if I could make this myself?
I was looking at the things around me—things people with far fewer resources than I have managed to make for centuries. Simple tools, art, food, clothing. And I started to ask myself: Why not me? Why couldn’t I, with some basic tools and a little practice, start making things too? Was it the tools or the skills that would be the biggest hurdle? And how could I bridge that gap?
The Problem with Relying on a Disrupted Supply Chain #
One thing the pandemic has taught us is that relying on complex supply chains for everyday needs is a dangerous game. A global system that depends on goods being transported across thousands of miles is fragile—vulnerable to disruptions we can’t control. The ability to make things for ourselves, to be self-sufficient in some small way, feels like a form of resilience that is becoming increasingly important.
Being able to sew my own clothes or make simple household items, for example, is a small but powerful form of independence. The more we rely on others to supply even the most basic items, the more control we give away. Making things doesn’t just benefit us personally; it also has a ripple effect on our communities. Plus, it’s probably better for the environment—fewer things in landfills, less plastic packaging, and less transportation-related carbon emissions. The only people it’s not great for are the billionaires whose profits are tied to the supply chains we’re disrupting, but that’s a conversation for another time.
Making “Ugly” Things #
When I first started trying to make my own things—especially with sewing—it didn’t go well. In fact, it was kind of a mess. I’ve sewn everything from drapes and pillows to bags, and the first few projects were ugly. Stitches that didn’t line up, seams that were too wide, and fit that was all wrong. If I’m being honest, the first things I made could’ve been classified as functional at best.
But you know what? They worked. They kept the sun out of my living room, and they held my things. I could’ve looked at them and been discouraged by their imperfections, but I chose to see them as a starting point. After all, Is it functional? Is it noticeable enough to matter? Maybe. But does that mean it should be abandoned or hidden away? No. In fact, the flaws could actually spark a conversation—about how things are made, about the process of learning, and the fact that nobody gets everything perfect on the first try.
And that’s the real beauty of making “ugly” things: you learn. The process, more than the end result, is where the magic happens. With each “ugly” project, you improve. Maybe your second set of pillows isn’t quite as crooked. Maybe your third try at a pair of pants has more consistent stitching. You’re building skills that will apply to the next attempt—and the one after that. This is how we grow, as makers and as people.
Embrace the Imperfection #
I think there’s a cultural bias against imperfection. A lot of us are trained to believe that things need to be polished and perfect before they’re shown to the world. Whether it’s a piece of art, a blog post, or even a home project, there’s this nagging sense that it needs to be “just right” before it’s shared. But the reality is that most people are more forgiving than we think. And in the end, I’d argue, it’s the imperfections that make things interesting. That’s where the human element shines through. Those little quirks? They’re what make things worth talking about. They make them real.
In a sense, this is different from the “Move fast and break things” philosophy that dominated early Facebook or Silicon Valley startups. That ethos was all about speed, disruption, and getting things out the door without much care for the consequences. I’m not advocating for reckless haste, but for embracing process—being okay with things not turning out perfectly the first time, and allowing yourself to experiment and learn as you go. It’s more of a “Move slow, make things, and see where it takes you” kind of philosophy.
The Takeaway #
So, the next time you’re faced with the desire to create something—anything—don’t be afraid to make it ugly. Whether you’re sewing your first pillow, building a bookshelf, or making a meal from scratch, embrace the fact that the first attempt will likely have its flaws. That’s not a reason to give up; it’s a reason to keep going. The imperfections are part of the process, and they’re valuable. They teach you things that perfection never will. And if you’re lucky, they might even spark a conversation or two along the way.
Making “ugly” things is about more than just creating for the sake of it. It’s about building resilience, learning new skills, and maybe even gaining a bit of self-sufficiency along the way. And if Bezos isn’t happy about it, well, that’s just one more reason to keep making.
What’s the first “ugly” thing you’ve made? How did the process feel? Let’s talk about it in the comments.