Perfectionism -- and Letting Go of It

As artists (and I use the term generally here), we often want to create something great.  Even from a young age, when our lives are filled with praise for our talents, expectation tends to accompany it: "you're such a good actor, let me know when your first big movie is coming out," "invite me to all your gallery openings in New York," "you'll autograph a copy of your first CD for me, right?"

These fantasies are a lot of fun as a kid, imagining our great successes later in life.  And indeed, it's this aspiration to greatness that keeps us going through good times and bad.  I attribute a lot of my successes to being born and bred a perfectionist, and a stubborn one at that.

At the same time, when we get to art school we spend a lot of time debating whether there's anything new under the sun.  Are we constrained or liberated by the fact that "new ideas" really don't exist anymore?

And when I find myself feeling no more than average, when I start mourning the fact that I'm not a good friend, that I'm bad at my job, that I'll never be a great writer, and/or I haven't ever done anything truly commendable (none of which are true), I start to wonder: when should I start focusing my energy on tempering this craziness rather than praising it?  I'm always wondering, will letting some of my self-criticism and perfectionism go make me complacent?  Will it lower my aptitude?  Will it hold me back from doing great things?

The truth is, I don't think so.  As someone who often thinks if the bar isn't out of reach it's not set high enough, I've been wondering lately if asking too much of oneself can be constraining in its own right.  For example, musicians are trained to relax our bodies completely.  This is the only way for our fingers to conquer the fastest notes, the only way for our voices to acquire a pleasing tone.  How often have we seen a great performance and heard someone say "she makes it look so easy?"  In fact, musicians can suffer a whole range of serious injuries as a result of poor technique, keeping tension in wrists and vocal cords.

More and more, I feel like this training can be applied to everything we do in life: only when we are entirely at ease and sure of ourselves, only when we release our tension and stop anticipating difficult passages with trepidation in our hearts, can we sail right on through the rough patches and come out on the other side unscathed and wickedly impressed with ourselves.  In this model, worry and perfectionism don't have a place.  Sure, sometimes we have to concentrate a little harder to make sure things turn out the way we want them, but unrealistic expectations don't really get us anywhere.  It's all just work, and eventually it all comes together into something great anyway -- isn't that why we do it in the first place?