I never gave much thought to there being any kind of “committee” lurking in the background when it comes to my artistic endeavors, but the more thought I considered it, the more sense it made.
I have to give particular praise and credit to my father whose push for perfection was ever-present but gave me great angst because I rarely measured up. On the other hand, my mother wanted to frame everything I did—an interesting counter-balance. She was the perfect committee member—my own personal cheerleader—who encouraged and supported most everything I did. Unfortunately, that created a bit of an internal struggle for me.
Other committee members over the years have far overshadowed that angst I went through early on—and I can’t even say for sure that at the time I saw it as negativity. It just felt like some unrealistic standard. It did, however, help feed a lack of confidence in some areas.
As I look back on the ebb and flow of my life’s experiences, I can—fortunately—conclude that I had way more creative successes than failures. Until the last decade or so, I was not exactly sure what creativity meant for me as an individual despite the fact that I frequently had to rely on it to do my job. I often worried more about the inner critic than the forces from outside.
Today, I no longer worry about “perfection”—in fact, my efforts these days are more about rejecting it. Perfection was rarely attainable for me anyway, and I’ve learned to trust that inner-voice that now tells me what “feels” right rather than directing me to achieve something that is unattainable.