Perfectionism, Bad Art and Failure
July 22, 2025
I have so much to say about perfectionism.
This is perfectionism.
Or better yet,
I know that this one doesn't have people as its subject (I draw animals and buildings too), but it illustrates perfectionism perfectly. I used magnifying glasses, for pity's sake.
Perfectionism is exhausting.
The first picture took 18 hours over three days. The bottom one only slightly less time. The toll on my eyes, back and shoulders from sitting hunched over at my table drawing for that long was incalculable. Plus, despite the immense effort I put into the horse picture, I have never been able to sell a single copy. Not even a print.
Perfectionism. Tell me, what's the point?
I did this for a year.
I think the realization came during my first massive art show. I sat at my booth for a week, eight hours a day. Thousands of people went by. Many complimented me. A few took one of my business cards. Not one bought my artwork. Not. One.
At the end of the week, I packed up my work and went home, a week out of my life gone and I was enriched only in experience. That was three years ago. No one who took my card has ever called me back.
That was when the truth began to niggle at me.
I wasn't getting anywhere with perfectionism. I wasn't selling anything and I was bored to tears with every drawing. Sure, everyone said they loved my work and my gosh, it was beautiful and I was so talented! I heard those words over and over again. But praise isn't money. Pretty things don't buy groceries. And creating perfectly detailed, photorealistic was making me miserable.
So I froze. Solid.
For years.
I went back to work--a REAL job. I stopped drawing entirely. There was obviously no money in making myself miserable creating perfect work and I couldn't allow myself to do anything else, because I didnt know how to do anything else and so making any art would mean the F-word--FAILURE. I'm a Capricorn. I don't FAIL. I don't create BAD. I have spent YEARS learning to create the best work possible, forcing myself to color inside the lines with perfect shading and linework, making sure every detail is in place, because I'm better than everyone else. I HAVE to be.
I know, right? Massive. Eye roll.
It wasn't until I learned to say the F-word, out loud, that my creative self began to thaw. I discovered that failure, rather then reflecting badly on you as a person, is a natural part of life, and in order to eventually succeed in anything you actually need to fail at it first, thousands and thousand of times. Ergo, I could create terrible work, and not only would I be ok, I would thrive.
Suddenly, I gave myself permission to create again.
And I have failed WELL. For the past year, I've been creating terrible work, and, *gasp* even putting it online! I've gone from this
And this
To this
In PUBLIC!!!!
Am I happy about this? Not on your life. Allowing myself to be imperfect and even terrible has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Letting people see my garbage? That's an indescribable pain. Gag me with a spoon, it hurts seeing my crap in the world. None of you are supposed to know how bad I really am at art. But the blindfold has been ripped off. Spectacularly.
And now if you'll excuse me, I have over 600 pages of garbage left to create in this challenge.



















