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Kinfolk #13
Kinfolk Volume 13: The Imperfect Issue
THE IMPERFECT ISSUE What is perfection, anyway? The Fall 2014 issue of Kinfolk explores the beauty of imperfection across food, people, ideas and more, showcasing the narratives these notions encompass. Nothing is perfect and it's often the most highly flawed things that give life its charm. So-called flaws should be embraced, diversity should be revered and eccentricity encouraged. The Imperfect Issue puts things society might deem rough around the edges under a microscope to explore their true character. Whether it's mismatched eyes, patched-up clothing or a broken plate, such unusual features often reveal lives lived to the fullest and rich with stories.
WELCOME TO KINFOLK ISSUE THIRTEEN, THE IMPERFECT ISSUE.
For our autumn edition, we’d like to celebrate the holes in our socks, our scorched attempts at marmalade-making and all the crappy haircuts we’ve had over the years. We’re all guilty of occasionally attempting to make our lives seem a little cleaner or a bit more organized, but the reality is often quite different. There’s nothing wrong with daydreaming of an idyllic life, but what if we dropped the facade for a moment and celebrated our shortcomings? These flawed details are the beautifully blemished collateral of a life lived to the fullest. So make mistakes. Make a mess. Be imperfect.
Stories you’ll find in Kinfolk Issue Thirteen
– Natural Judgment: an essay exploring our blind eye toward nature’s flaws, along with a photo series showcasing oddly shaped shrubs in San Francisco
– Going Against the Grain: an exploration into being the odd one out
– Wear and Tear: a photo essay highlighting the appeal of worn clothing, paired with an encouragement to flaunt your flaws
– Julia Child’s Guide to Cooking Terribly, complete with a recipe for Fallen Cheese Soufflé
– Culinary Calamities: Six chefs tell us their stories of epic fails and war wounds
– An interview with New York City Ballet’s prima ballerina Wendy Whelan
– A profile series with three judges (a Pulitzer Prize–winning restaurant critic, a Westminster Dog Show judge and an Olympic Gymnastics judge) on evaluating perfection
– Seeing Double: a portrait series noting the small differences between twins
– The Extremists’ Guide to Home Decor: tips for minimalists and maximalists
– Home Tours: a look around some patched-up homes in Greece and France
– Playing with Fire: a menu based around burning your food on purpose; a recipe series of what to make When Life Gives You Lemons; and an essay about the failures of making marmalade along with a foolproof recipe for making Blood Orange and Bourbon Marmalade
– Plus, articles about improvisation, Navajo weaving techniques, art conservation, kintsugi, accidental inventions, imperfect music and crappy haircuts
“The autumn edition explores the idea of imperfection in all its glory, celebrating the chips in the woodwork that come from taking chances and making memories.” — Nathan Williams & Georgia Frances King
On the cover
Photograph Neil Bedford
Art Direction Charlotte Heal
Styling Rachel Caulfield
Model Henry Evans at Next
Paintings by Katie Stratton
WELCOME TO KINFOLK ISSUE THIRTEEN, THE IMPERFECT ISSUE.
For our autumn edition, we’d like to celebrate the holes in our socks, our scorched attempts at marmalade-making and all the crappy haircuts we’ve had over the years. We’re all guilty of occasionally attempting to make our lives seem a little cleaner or a bit more organized, but the reality is often quite different. There’s nothing wrong with daydreaming of an idyllic life, but what if we dropped the facade for a moment and celebrated our shortcomings? These flawed details are the beautifully blemished collateral of a life lived to the fullest. So make mistakes. Make a mess. Be imperfect.
Stories you’ll find in Kinfolk Issue Thirteen
– Natural Judgment: an essay exploring our blind eye toward nature’s flaws, along with a photo series showcasing oddly shaped shrubs in San Francisco
– Going Against the Grain: an exploration into being the odd one out
– Wear and Tear: a photo essay highlighting the appeal of worn clothing, paired with an encouragement to flaunt your flaws
– Julia Child’s Guide to Cooking Terribly, complete with a recipe for Fallen Cheese Soufflé
– Culinary Calamities: Six chefs tell us their stories of epic fails and war wounds
– An interview with New York City Ballet’s prima ballerina Wendy Whelan
– A profile series with three judges (a Pulitzer Prize–winning restaurant critic, a Westminster Dog Show judge and an Olympic Gymnastics judge) on evaluating perfection
– Seeing Double: a portrait series noting the small differences between twins
– The Extremists’ Guide to Home Decor: tips for minimalists and maximalists
– Home Tours: a look around some patched-up homes in Greece and France
– Playing with Fire: a menu based around burning your food on purpose; a recipe series of what to make When Life Gives You Lemons; and an essay about the failures of making marmalade along with a foolproof recipe for making Blood Orange and Bourbon Marmalade
– Plus, articles about improvisation, Navajo weaving techniques, art conservation, kintsugi, accidental inventions, imperfect music and crappy haircuts
“The autumn edition explores the idea of imperfection in all its glory, celebrating the chips in the woodwork that come from taking chances and making memories.” — Nathan Williams & Georgia Frances King
On the cover
Photograph Neil Bedford
Art Direction Charlotte Heal
Styling Rachel Caulfield
Model Henry Evans at Next
Paintings by Katie Stratton
- GenresNonfictionFood
144 pages, Paperback
First published September 2, 2014
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
October 30, 2014
I have to admit I kind of thought the fine people at Kinfolk were taking the piss when they announced the theme of this issue, because Kinfolk is associated enough with unattainable perfection all around the web that it seems like a joke. But it's Kinfolk, so it they took it on with all the guileless sincerity that is their wont, and it turned out much better than my initial impression of it suggested. I shouldn't have been surprised.
The article about appreciation of nature and how few people will judge a tree harshly for being imperfect but will apply the same judgements to people reminds me of this episode of 99% Invisible about Austrian artist Hundertwasser and his design sensibilities. While I find the "awe for nature" angle somewhat ludicrous--there's no amount of appreciation of someone's veins and capillaries as a glorious interlinking system that will let me forgive them ramming their chair down onto my knees during flight--I think of this article about the most expensive apartments in New York and how it's all white and straight lines and, basically, iDesign, except for the one Edwardian (Victorian?)-style apartment. Maybe we need more curving lines and whorls in our daily lives instead of walling ourselves up behind white walls in sterile, empty rooms with our lying straight lines.
I admit that I know very little about Julia Child beyond the name--I wasn't even sure why I knew the name until I read this article--but Julia Child's Guide to Cooking Terribly reminded me a lot of the early years of my marriage. Not because my wife was a terrible cook, because I have no complaints on that score, but because of the quest for perfection and the idea that it's okay if food doesn't fit some kind of picture-perfect ideal. I've never been one to care how food looks if it tastes good, but my wife's grandmother was a stickler for presentation and drilled into her the importance that food had to please the eye as well as the tongue. Part of our first year of marriage was negotiating my enjoyment of burned food and lack of care for half-scrambled omelets with my wife's desire to make everything presentable, and while she still has twinges when the food isn't up to her standards, usually the gusto with which I eat it makes up for it.
I also think it's hilarious that Kinfolk ran this article when their instagram account is pseudo-infamous for unattainable dining perfection.
I was excited to read the recipe for bananas foster, because one of the meals that my wife and I first bonded over was the bananas foster crepe at the Landmark Cafe in Galesburg. The other two items on the burned food menu look good, but they don't have that same burst of nostalgia for me.
Burned food in general is just something I love, so I suppose I have an intimate interest in that area of imperfection. Bring me my meat near-raw and my vegetables crispy and I'm a happy man.
The article about kintsugi also stuck out to me, though perhaps not for the reason the writers intended. Wabi sabi is one of those concepts that get brought up over and over in discussions of Japan, much like their reverence for nature. But having lived in Japan, I can say that the "reverence for nature" isn't very evident in all the miles and miles of pointless concrete lining hillsides, riverbeds, and beachfronts, nor in the city parks consisting of a flat square of dirt with a few sad trees in one corner. Wabi sabi is much the same. Sure, there are artisans like Hori-san who actually put it into practice, but all it takes is looking at the average lifespan of a Japanese house--35 years, after which it's torn down completely and a new one built--or that the value of plots of land is all in the land, because it's assumed that the new owners will tear down whatever's there and build their own house, to realize that maybe it's a value that's not actually more than skin-deep most of the time.
Especially in an issue with two articles about restored old houses, and one where wabi sabi is referenced in more than one article, it really hit a sour note with me.
But that was the one sour note. As expected from Kinfolk, everything else was great, and even the article about kintsugi only annoyed me because of my pet peeve and not because of its content. I say it every time, but I look forward to the next issue.
The article about appreciation of nature and how few people will judge a tree harshly for being imperfect but will apply the same judgements to people reminds me of this episode of 99% Invisible about Austrian artist Hundertwasser and his design sensibilities. While I find the "awe for nature" angle somewhat ludicrous--there's no amount of appreciation of someone's veins and capillaries as a glorious interlinking system that will let me forgive them ramming their chair down onto my knees during flight--I think of this article about the most expensive apartments in New York and how it's all white and straight lines and, basically, iDesign, except for the one Edwardian (Victorian?)-style apartment. Maybe we need more curving lines and whorls in our daily lives instead of walling ourselves up behind white walls in sterile, empty rooms with our lying straight lines.
I admit that I know very little about Julia Child beyond the name--I wasn't even sure why I knew the name until I read this article--but Julia Child's Guide to Cooking Terribly reminded me a lot of the early years of my marriage. Not because my wife was a terrible cook, because I have no complaints on that score, but because of the quest for perfection and the idea that it's okay if food doesn't fit some kind of picture-perfect ideal. I've never been one to care how food looks if it tastes good, but my wife's grandmother was a stickler for presentation and drilled into her the importance that food had to please the eye as well as the tongue. Part of our first year of marriage was negotiating my enjoyment of burned food and lack of care for half-scrambled omelets with my wife's desire to make everything presentable, and while she still has twinges when the food isn't up to her standards, usually the gusto with which I eat it makes up for it.
I also think it's hilarious that Kinfolk ran this article when their instagram account is pseudo-infamous for unattainable dining perfection.
I was excited to read the recipe for bananas foster, because one of the meals that my wife and I first bonded over was the bananas foster crepe at the Landmark Cafe in Galesburg. The other two items on the burned food menu look good, but they don't have that same burst of nostalgia for me.
Burned food in general is just something I love, so I suppose I have an intimate interest in that area of imperfection. Bring me my meat near-raw and my vegetables crispy and I'm a happy man.
The article about kintsugi also stuck out to me, though perhaps not for the reason the writers intended. Wabi sabi is one of those concepts that get brought up over and over in discussions of Japan, much like their reverence for nature. But having lived in Japan, I can say that the "reverence for nature" isn't very evident in all the miles and miles of pointless concrete lining hillsides, riverbeds, and beachfronts, nor in the city parks consisting of a flat square of dirt with a few sad trees in one corner. Wabi sabi is much the same. Sure, there are artisans like Hori-san who actually put it into practice, but all it takes is looking at the average lifespan of a Japanese house--35 years, after which it's torn down completely and a new one built--or that the value of plots of land is all in the land, because it's assumed that the new owners will tear down whatever's there and build their own house, to realize that maybe it's a value that's not actually more than skin-deep most of the time.
Especially in an issue with two articles about restored old houses, and one where wabi sabi is referenced in more than one article, it really hit a sour note with me.
But that was the one sour note. As expected from Kinfolk, everything else was great, and even the article about kintsugi only annoyed me because of my pet peeve and not because of its content. I say it every time, but I look forward to the next issue.
April 4, 2018
Beautifully written, simple and very appealing.
September 28, 2014
Beautiful photography and short essays. Giving this a 4/5, which is not indicative of the quality of the publication, but mostly because I powered through this in one sitting and because I'm holding out for the next issues to be even more beautiful and stirring. Recommended.
March 10, 2016
The articles and photo essays were great. A totally inspiring read.
Read
December 5, 2015while I can't fully endorse all of their ideas, they do point out beauty in age and flaws and their "magazines" inspire me to create and cook and enjoy the art in life.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews