The Beauty of Imperfection: My Journey with a Cherry Wood Bowl

This cherry wood bowl was meant to be a simple gift for my uncle. It was my first proper attempt at deep-cut turning. I had a clear vision in my head: smooth curves, clean lines, and that rich cherry grain catching the light just right. I imagined it as a bowl you might find in an old countryside home—something functional, but also full of story and character.

The reality? Let’s just say this bowl and I had some moments.

Handmade wooden bowl showing natural imperfections and a rustic finish, crafted from English cherry wood

A Bumpy Journey

There’s a chip on the edge from a lapse in concentration. A few deeper-than-planned gouges are on the inside. I was still figuring out the best tool angles. My gouge caught a few times, sending the bowl spinning in unexpected directions. I swore at it and laughed at myself. Then I took a breath and kept going.

That’s the thing with woodturning—and any kind of craft, really—you don’t always get to be in control. The material, the grain, and the tools all have a say.

But despite the flaws—or maybe because of them—I’m proud of how it turned out. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s honest. It marks a turning point (pun intended) in my woodworking journey. It was the first time I pushed myself beyond the usual comfort zone of shallower bowls and more predictable forms. I wanted to make something substantial, and I did!

Learning in the Making

Mistakes in woodworking stay with you. They’re like little notches in your experience—markers of growth. The gouges in this bowl remind me of the importance of tool control and patience with deeper cuts. The chip on the rim? It’s a lesson in awareness and timing. Sometimes, good enough really is good enough.

It’s easy to get caught up in the Instagram version of woodworking—the flawless finishes and perfect symmetry. But that’s not what the craft is about for me. Woodworking is about connection: to the wood, to the process, and to the people for whom I’m creating. Sometimes, those connections come through more clearly in the flaws than in the polish.

The cherry wood itself was a joy to work with—rich, warm, and beautifully grained. It smelled incredible while I turned it, filling the workshop with that sweet, slightly spicy scent that cherry gives off when freshly cut. Even when the tools didn’t cooperate, the wood reminded me why I fell in love with this craft in the first place.

The Perfect Imperfect Gift

I made this bowl as a gift for my uncle. He appreciates handmade items. He prefers something rough but meaningful over shiny, mass-produced goods. When I handed it to him, I pointed out the chip and gouges, almost apologetically. He smiled, turned it over in his hands, and said, "It’s beautiful. It’s got character."

And he was right. Handmade doesn’t always mean perfect; it means time, care, and the willingness to try. It means showing up, even when unsure of the outcome. It means transforming a rough piece of timber into something new. That’s the real magic of it.

Sometimes we forget that it’s not perfection that draws people to handmade work. It’s the human touch, the irregularities, and the story. This bowl has all of that. It might not sit in a gallery, but it sits in his home, full of meaning. And that’s more than enough for me.

Why I Share the Flaws

Close-up of notch detail on handmade wooden bowl, highlighting natural wood character

One reason I wanted to share this project—gouges and all—is that we need more honesty in the creative world. It’s easy to only post the wins, the finished products, and the best angles. But what about the mess-ups? The off-centre holes, the splinters, and the times you glued something backward?

We learn from those experiences just as much, if not more. Maybe someone just starting out in woodturning will see this and realize they don’t need to achieve perfection on their first try. We’re all on a learning curve—even the pros who look like they have it all figured out.

I love the generosity within the woodworking community. People share tips, stories, advice, and encouragement. You quickly realize that perfection isn’t the goal. Progress, passion, and patience are.

Crafting Through Connection

There’s a bigger reason I do what I do: connection. It’s about the people I’m making for, the trees that provided the timber, and my own hands and mind. Each piece I create feels like a conversation. Sometimes it flows easily; other times, it’s a bit of a back-and-forth.

This bowl was definitely the latter. Even when the process was frustrating, I found joy in it. The curve started taking shape, the finish revealed the cherry's colors, and despite all the hiccups, I realized I’d created something special.

That’s what The Crafty Woodshed is about. It’s not a factory. It’s not about churning out perfect pieces on a production line. It’s about making real things, with real tools, by a real person—me—who’s still learning every single time.

So here’s to imperfection. Here’s to the pieces that tell stories. The ones that challenge you. The ones you weren’t sure about until the end. The ones that mean more because of the effort it took to create them. Here’s to making—flaws and all.

Looking Ahead

I’ll definitely be making more bowls. I have ideas brewing—experimenting with different woods and maybe incorporating some mixed media. I aim to refine my technique further with each piece.

Finished wooden bowl displayed beside the original cherry tree stump it was carved from

If you're reading this and just starting out—or perhaps you’ve hit a frustrating patch with your own projects—stick with it. Keep turning, carving, cutting, and sanding. Keep learning. Not everything goes according to plan, but it’s always worth it.

When you make something with your hands, you’re shaping wood and shaping experience. That’s where the real craft lives.

So thank you, cherry bowl, for being a challenge, for teaching me, and for reminding me that perfection is overrated. Connection is everything.

Until next time—back to the workshop I go.