Every artist strives to produce amazing, fabulous, original work.
No authentic artist, however, strives to produce perfect work.
Why not? Two reasons:
One, the very act of striving for perfection hampers free expression. I mean, that's true by definition: since perfection is impossible on this earth—given how molecules sort of squish around all over the place and all, even those of precise instruments such as laser beams and Stradivarius violins—it follows that striving for the impossible is futile. And futile effort cannot result in free, fullhearted creativity, no way.
On some level our heartbrain knows this. If we consciously try for perfection—that is, the impossible—our heartbrain will quietly but forcefully go to war against that. Result: anxiety, doubt, fear, and crappy work.
Two, an audience who can tell junk from real art will intuitively reject any product of a perfectionistic artist. Another term for perfectionist is control freak. The product of such a person will be brightly polished and free from cosmetic mistakes. As such, it will be pretty and it will fool lunkheads who will probably buy it. And it will have no soul.
Do not feed the lunkheads.
Go after the audience you want—that is, an audience who will appreciate you and will stick with you—by forgetting perfection and going at it headlong, reckless, and grinning like a maniac.
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