The right to make mistakes

It’s fascinating how a woven band from Cologne repeatedly prompts the same question: was this pattern intentionally designed to look as it does, or are we looking at a random result caused by a mistake made during threading the tablets?

If the latter is true, then we would expect it to be discarded. But the concept of a flaw serious enough for that is highly relative. We’re used to living in a world filled with mass-produced items, where any two objects are practically indistinguishable. Anything which deviates from an established standard is deemed unusable – even if its functionality remains intact.

Yet, to decide to discard an item that took months of manual work because of a single error – that’s a matter of an entirely different order. Declaring a large piece of cloth unusable because of a minor inaccuracy in the pattern would, in my view, be an extraordinary act in medieval conditions, even from a purely practical standpoint. If we also consider the religious context – the belief that a craftsman is merely an extension of the Creator’s hand – then the discussion shifts from human error to the artisan’s capacity to embody divine intention, or even to the boldness of questioning that divine plan.

From this perspective, the question posed at the beginning of this post loses its relevance — because by asking it, we are applying a mindset utterly different from that of the people who once wove or wore such a band.

P.S. In fact, historical objects often contain what we might call “mistakes”. For example, a Westphalian embroidered cushion features no identical medallions – each one is unique. In Anna Neuper’s Modebuch, many designs contain missing or duplicated rows or incorrect symbols. Even without obvious errors, handmade items are always one of a kind. And that’s precisely where their value lies.