I work to overcome that same stymieing perfectionism (maybe we all do?) and one of the ways for me is to plan for failure. With my copper patina process, there are many unknowns, and early on I accepted that not every try would be a success. Each "failure" teaches me something, and I find ways to recycle and reuse things that veer away from perhaps what I had in mind. Recently, I've tried to embody the practice of my ginkgo tree--she puts out thousands of leaves--each unique, each one feeds her and gives her shade, each one an expression of joy.
Mollie,
I work to overcome that same stymieing perfectionism (maybe we all do?) and one of the ways for me is to plan for failure. With my copper patina process, there are many unknowns, and early on I accepted that not every try would be a success. Each "failure" teaches me something, and I find ways to recycle and reuse things that veer away from perhaps what I had in mind. Recently, I've tried to embody the practice of my ginkgo tree--she puts out thousands of leaves--each unique, each one feeds her and gives her shade, each one an expression of joy.
I love your approach, Cathy. Planning for failure feels to me like a generous practice, and I think I need more of those!