There’s this not-so-unusual thing I used to do (I’m willing to bet you’ve done it too) where I’d pull out my sketchbook or open Procreate, and then... nothing. Just sit there, already tired, already overwhelmed, already annoyed that I couldn’t come up with the perfect idea right out of the gate.
I’d scroll for inspiration. I’d overthink the color palette. I’d zoom in to 700% to adjust a single leaf shape. I’d get halfway through a piece and start nitpicking it into oblivion. Eventually, I’d abandon it altogether because it didn’t feel “good enough.”
It’s easy to call that perfectionism, but for me, it wasn’t about being perfect. It was about trying to prove something to myself. That I was serious. That I could make “real” art. That I wasn’t just playing around.. even though, deep down, I wanted to be playing around.
The more pressure I put on my work, the less of it I actually made. Everything started to feel heavier than it needed to.
And then one day I had a meltdown (a classic creative spiral moment - 10/10 recommend), and instead of quitting completely, I gave myself 30 minutes to make something bad on purpose. No fixing. No zooming in. No posting it after. Just... finish it. It felt weirdly liberating. Was it great? Absolutely not. But it was done.
Immediately, I reflected on something so very sad: Think about how much art never gets made because we’re waiting for it to be brilliant before it even exists. It’s a weird trap. You don’t want to “waste” time on something mediocre, so you end up wasting even more time not making anything at all.
But here’s what I’ve found: the work you finish, even the messy stuff, heck, especially the messy stuff, teaches you more than the work you never start.
It’s not about lowering your standards or being sloppy. It’s about getting out of your own way long enough to remember why you started creating in the first place.
I was chatting with a student in my Blooming Lines class recently, and she said something that’s stuck with me ever since. We were doing one of the loosest floral prompts, the kind where the lines are intentionally wobbly and nothing needs to fall into a particular place, and she said, “This is the first time I’ve drawn something without erasing.” Like… yes. That. That’s the moment.
I still catch myself trying to make things perfect sometimes. I’ll sketch and erase the same line five times. I’ll hover over the export button for way too long. But more and more, I try to let my art be what it is. Even when it’s chaotic. Even when it doesn’t turn out how I imagined. Especially then.
If you’ve been stuck in the loop of not finishing things, or not starting them at all, maybe this is your sign to try the 30-minute “bad art” challenge. Or maybe just notice next time you catch yourself hesitating and gently remind yourself that progress is allowed to be messy. And honestly? It usually is.
){kind=link}