The Imperfectionist Manifesto

Do you have a favorite musician, or writer or artist? Someone whose work touches you deeply, who moves and inspires you?

Maybe someone whose work got you through a tough time. Or compelled you to think in a new way. Or makes you smile as you pass it in the hall every day. Or just jazzes you up when you need a little jazzing.

Now, let me ask you, how would your life be different – be lacking – without their creative contribution?

What if..?

Imagine that years ago, before you ever discovered her or him, this person whose work means so much to you decided it wasn’t good enough to share with the world, and kept it hidden.

Or worse, imagine that they became disgusted with their previous works and suddenly inherited the magical ability to disappear everything they’d ever created.

All the art (or music, or writing, or whatever) that had so touched you would instantaneously disintegrate, never to be partaken of again.

How does that make you feel?

A week ago yesterday, I had the chance to experience that feeling. Just before heading home from music camp, I got into a conversation with one of the teachers, a phenomenally skilled musician.

With a serious perfectionist streak.

This teacher’s command of multiple instruments is mind-boggling. This is one of those people who makes everything look effortless. Countless hours of dedicated practice have created not just technical proficiency, but exquisite expressive ability.

So it was a huge surprise to me when our conversation revealed a deep frustration underneath what, to me, was obvious talent and skill.

“I just don’t feel like I connect” was the astonishing confession, “my playing never matches what I want to express.”

And, most astonishing of all, “I’d really like to recall every single CD I ever produced.”

The very idea broke my heart.

The Creative Gap

Although I was astonished at this incredible musician’s flagellating self-judgment, I sympathized only too well with the concept.

I get it.

The fact is, there’s always a gap between what you want to produce – the Platonic Ideal that you have for your creative work – and what you’re able to create in reality.

This creative gap is at its most dramatic when you’re new at something, still honing your skills, working on your as-yet-nonexistent chops.

This American Life’s Ira Glass describes the creative gap very effectively in this little video excerpt:

Ira Glass on Storytelling from David Shiyang Liu on Vimeo. (See Ira’s full-length video (~5 mins) on YouTube.)

The Beauty of Pursuit

What Ira doesn’t mention is that the gap is always there. No matter how skilled you get, if you’re a creative person with taste, you are by definition always seeking to close that gap.

In truth, as long as it doesn’t stop us in our tracks, I think the gap is what keeps us driving forward. It’s the pursuit of mastery, rather than the achievement of it, that makes the whole thing interesting.

Seriously, if you didn’t have something to work on and hone, wouldn’t you ultimately get kinda bored? I know I would. (Which explains why I tend to pick passions – calligraphy, jazz, songwriting, Argentine tango – that elude notions of “ultimate mastery”…)

The Imperfectionist Manifesto

Confession time: I’m a Recovering Perfectionist myself. My goal now is to be an Imperfectionist, someone who takes imperfect action, rather than waiting for perfection – which is, after all, kind of like Waiting for Godot. Or Guffman.

Here’s what I’ve discovered – my in-process/imperfect Imperfectionist Manifesto:

• Even if you can’t stand what you’ve created, you never know how it may affect somebody else.

The musician I mentioned above is a case in point. I guarantee you the people who bought those CDs and witnessed those live performances had a very different feeling about the work than the musician’s flagellating self-judgment.

In my own life, it’s frequently the work that I feel less-than-satisfied with that gets the most positive response. (Go figure!)

Rather than doubt my taste, I’ve learned to appreciate other people’s. We may always disagree, and that’s okay, but I’ve had enough delighted responses to stuff I was tempted to trash to understand that something I think is “crap” may very well change someone else’s life for the better.

• Ultimate value doesn’t always have anything to do with technical skill

Recovering Perfectionists such as myself have a hard time wrapping our head around this one, but it’s true. Technique is great, but it’s sooooooooo not everything. (Um, Bob Dylan’s singing, anyone?)

At music camp last week one of the most entertaining acts in the student concert was a group of guys playing ukulele and singing who were not particularly technically skilled. (One of them had picked up the ukulele for the first time that week.) They felt sucky about the performance, even wished they hadn’t gone onstage at all. As an audience member, though, I found them utterly delightful.

One of the most memorable dance performances I ever saw was a man who was technically extremely limited, but a gripping performer. He didn’t do much more than walk, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. The acrobatic ballerinas in the ensemble didn’t compel me nearly as much.

• Putting stuff out into the world is really gratifying

Yes, it can be scary as hell, but human beings are social creatures. We’re wired to want to connect. Sharing what we create is one way we do that.

No, not everyone will like what you do. But the response that you get from people who do will nourish you and make you want to do more.

• Allowing yourself to be imperfect is a helluva lot more fun

Being a Perfectionist is not a fun way to live. In fact, it’s really stressful. Imperfectionists are just more relaxed, and generally a lot more fun to be around, too.

• The more you let yourself be imperfect, the more stuff you’ll actually do, and the better you’ll get at it

Therein lies the irony.

Do you know the story about the college ceramics class? At the beginning of the term, the teacher divided them into two groups: group 1 would be judged solely on the quality on their pots; group 2 solely on the quantity.

It’s not surprising that group 2 had acres more fun, chatting and laughing as they threw crappy pots one after another, while group 1 agonized on the other side of the room. But guess which group got better grades? Also group 2 – they cranked out so many pots that they figured out through doing how to make good ones.

As Ira Glass says in the video above, the most important possible thing you can do is do a lot of work.

An invitation

Consider this post my personal invitation to you to join me in the ranks of the Imperfectionists.

Let’s create a movement of artists and creatives, committed to Imperfection at all costs.

How do you intend to commit to Imperfection? Is there anything you’d add to the Imperfectionist Manifesto?