Paralyzed by Perfectionism

The Cultivating Artist is a column that seeks to encourage and empower fellow makers. The work of an artist—that reach toward something beautiful—can feel daunting, especially at the beginning. Negative thoughts threaten to steal away sparkling possibilities. I’ve learned that by dwelling on thoughts that are lovely and true, I can fight discouragement and keep moving forward one brush stroke at a time. I want to help you fight and persevere in your work too. Here, I’ll be coming alongside you with encouragement and stories from my own life, reminding you that you’re not alone.

Recently I completed the sketches for a 40-page picture book. I had a little gap of time to fill as I waited for the publishing company to approve my sketches, so I pored over some of my favorite children’s book illustrations—a thing I commonly do to glean inspiration before I begin painting the final artwork. Many of my favorite pictures were created during a time known as The Golden Age of Illustration, which was between 1880 and 1930. I’m in awe of those illustrations and will mention a few of the artists’ names at the end of this essay so that you can enjoy their work too. 

As I studied one picture after another, I marveled at the colors within the compositions, always imagining how I might use similar ones in my own book. Although my sketches were complete, I was overwhelmed by the myriad of different directions I could go with the final artwork. The possibilities seemed endless, and soon I would need to make a decision. What color palette should I use? Soft and subtle? Jewel-toned? Earthy?

Finally, hoping to simplify my task, I chose to focus on one single element—a dress that one of the main characters would be wearing throughout most of the story. Surely that would be easy to decide. And, I reasoned, once I’d chosen the colors for the dress, I could use that to help me determine the palette for the whole book. What could be simpler than choosing colors for one dress?

Only it wasn’t simple.

For a couple of weeks, I thought of colors day in and day out. Sometimes my husband or daughter would catch me staring off into space with a distant look. “You’re thinking of colors again, aren’t you?” they would ask. And we would laugh because, yes—that’s exactly what I’d been thinking of.

I mixed one color after another and painted test swatches on a canvas board. Sitting back and looking at them, it seemed that out of all the colors of the rainbow, none was quite wonderful enough to rise above the others. One was too dull and might not show clearly enough in the dark scenes, and another was too bright—it would distract from everything else around it. Some colors seemed too common and others too unusual.

When at last I’d finally chosen a background color for the fabric, and complimentary shades for the accompanying details, the very next morning my imagination threw another option into the ring for consideration. Once more I settled on a set of colors, and a floral design—only to change my mind later, after seeing the beautiful wallpaper in a friend’s powder room, and then changed it yet again after watching a movie with a lovely scene full deep greens and candlelight (I took a screen shot of it on my phone for reference). So many possibilities, and I knew that whichever direction I stepped, it would close the door on all the other options.

I told my husband one afternoon, “It’s strange. I’ve painted so many pictures and suddenly it feels like I don’t know how to do it. I can’t even decide the colors of one dress!”

That’s when it dawned on me that in wanting so desperately to make my illustrations beautiful, I’d been paralyzed by perfectionism. In focusing on my own part in creating the artwork, I’d forgotten about God’s part. He is always creating better things than I can imagine. He’s given me my imagination and it’s joyful work to use it, but the ultimate outcome doesn’t rest on me. I don’t have to choose the perfect colors.

With this in mind, I thought about books I’d loved as a child and how uncritical I’d been of them. I didn’t judge the colors or styles as I flipped through the pages. I just enjoyed them—some because they were truly wondrous creations, but many because of how I felt reading them or having them read to me. I can still picture my grandmother sitting next to me on the old plaid couch with a stack of picture books beside us. As soon as she’d finish reading one book, I’d take the next from the stack and pass it over to her. I never tired of listening as she used inflection in all the right places.

I’m happy to tell you that the publishing company approved my sketches and I’ve been feeling new freedom and joy as I mix paints and choose colors, even knowing that I am narrowing the path of what this book will look like with each choice I make. There’s great peace in knowing that God will use it however He chooses!

It may amuse you to hear that I still haven’t decided on the colors of the girl’s dress, but I’m no longer agonizing over it, and when the book comes out, I hope you’ll smile thinking of how long it took me to make such a small decision.  

“Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.” (Psalm 127.1 ESV)

Some of my favorite illustrators (most, though not all, from The Golden Age of Illustration) are: Beatrix Potter, Edmund Dulac, Virginia Frances Sterrett, Kay Nielsen, Maxfield Parrish, John Bauer, Jessie Willcox Smith, Errol Le Cain, Florence Susan Harrison, and Gyo Fujikawa.

The featured image, “A Hedgerow in Wrexham,” is courtesy of Lancia E. Smith and is used with her glad permission for Cultivating.

Amy Grimes

For Amy, it all starts with a story. As a child, fairytales and fantastic illustrations captivated her mind and sparked her imagination. All her art originates from the stories she writes. She sees her “story paintings” as windows that provide just enough to start the observer down the path but leave a little mystery to ignite their imagination.

Light shining out of the darkness is her favorite and most recurring theme. Amy, a columnist for Cultivating Magazine, believes that artwork that reflects goodness & truth can bring light into our lives and give us hope.

She enjoys a quiet life with her husband and two daughters, in a house full of treasured books and bright colors. A sleek, black cat and a nervous, brown rabbit keep her company each day while she paints.

www.storypaintings.net/