I keep thinking of ways to improve posts days (or more) after I publish them. They’re often incomplete. I feel this way about the art itself, of course. The images are always off in some way I can see to fix.

But there’s only so much time. You can’t just perfect a piece over and over. You have to finish things, or you’re stuck in the same place. You never get better at one thing, and you never fully move on to the next thing. It’s a limbo of perfectionism, a mania of improvement that leaves you and work static.

There are would-be perfectionist artists out there. Sometimes they produce the thing they’ve been perfecting in the studio, sometimes for years. Sometimes they’re beautiful.

Often, though, they’re stiff. There’s not as much life in them as less polished works. Life is movement, and it’s sometimes messy. But it’s got power and feeling. I think some of that can get drained away if you spend a lot of time making a thing as perfect as it can be.

And I’m not saying to go fast. I’m not advocating rushing anything into being. Life itself is slow, after all. Take some time to make the work. But perfection shouldn’t be the goal.

I don’t need perfect things. I need life.