How sketching helps me get over perfectionism

I haven’t historically thought of myself as a visual artist. I’m a writer, not a sketcher or a painter. Or so I thought until a few months ago, when seeing my kids’ drawings inspired me to give the visual arts a try.

Now, as someone who’s added drawing to his regular art practice, I consider myself simply as an artist.

I’m not here to convince you my drawings are good. It’s fair to say they’re objectively mediocre at best. But the quality of the end result has little bearing on the value of this artistic practice. The bulk of the value comes from the practice itself and the lessons learned.

I consider myself a recovering perfectionist. I sometimes hold onto my work (both professional and personal) too long for fear of having my mistakes exposed and critiqued. Now, in the early days of middle age, I have enough life experience to know nothing I do can be perfect, so perfection is a silly bar for success. Yet still, my perfectionist tendencies pop back up from time to time, only to hold me back.

The best antidote I’ve found to overcome perfectionism is to make something flawed as soon as possible. And that’s where sketching comes in.

I’m so lucky to call writing and sketching my preferred hobbies. The barriers to entry are nearly nonexistent–all you need is some paper and a writing tool (pen, pencil, marker, etc.). These tools are plentiful and can be found almost anywhere. So, I have no excuse for not grabbing paper and pen and scribbling something down.

I have no reason to worry afterward that I’ve created something imperfect, because my creation already is imperfect. It’s undeniable. All such hope is gone.

But you know what’s great about an imperfect creation? It’s done. It’s no longer an idea. It’s something real, no matter how ugly.

How often could our day jobs benefit from the same? Something imperfect but done.

Often, during a sketch, there comes that point at which you know the work has no hope of being perfect. You put down that one line or curve and you know the symmetry is off. You can throw it away, or you can carry on and see if you can save the work. (How often must we do the same in our day job, especially when we’re handed a project started by an uncaring coworker?)

Or you can let go and see where the mistake takes you. You’ve already started something that now can’t be perfect, so you might as well make the most of the rep. Make it count for something.

Now, when I sketch, I not only embrace imperfect lines, but I seek to create them. I try to sketch loosely and let go. In my own way, I tend to be a control freak, so the practice of letting the lines fall where they may does my soul some good. And, now, when I shade, I do so with scribbles rather than try to neatly fill every bit of white space with color.

People will often say that business and art are completely different fields and should remain separate. But I couldn’t disagree more. Lessons from one often apply to the other.

The business world needs more artists. So, Monday morning, I want you to ask yourself where you can make some messy art. Unless you’re a pilot or a heart surgeon. In that case, yeah, leave the art at home.