Begin Again... and again
I've always wrestled with perfectionism. Especially with regards to art, since it rarely shows up the way I imagined it in my head. But images in one's head aren't real and they aren't meant to be they are always just out of reach, shape-shifting and ethereal.
I'm almost finished this painting. I have been finished before. Twice. But it was never quite right. There's a time and a place for everything, and this was the time and place for perfectionism. Let me just say: I don't think it's perfect, and it probably never will be, but I am much much happier with it now, in it's third incarnation.
I'm glad I listened to that small, nagging voice in the back of my head that was saying. "no, not yet". (Yet is the important part here, not never... yet).
Perfectionism here was my innate desire to make something of quality that was in line with my creative vision. When I saw it as "yet" when I didn't believe it affected my value as an artist, or a human person, I could listen to it, and let it empower me to make good choices about my creation.