Never Finished, Only Abandoned: Artists and the Perfectionism Trap

A WSJ article on the newly restored Orson Welles film has us thinking about perfectionism.

"Any form of limitation, obligation, responsibility or enforced duty was intolerable to him, rendering him claustrophobic and destructive." That's the wrong kind of perfectionism, and it led, as it usually does, to disaster.

The article goes on to chronicle how he lost credibility with Hollywood because of his demands for unlimited tolerance and funding, and had to go the indie route, where he did not have sufficient resources to realize his vision.

With writing, it's more a time issue. We haven't got forever to finish a work, even if we haven't got an entire cast and crew standing by. I find that "limitation" can be freeing, when you commit to a form, a plot or a deadline, even. Then you just do it. Which is not to say every work must fit the same form or any particular form.

The wisest artists are the ones who finish a new work, walk away and move on to the next project. Whenever a colleague pointed out a "mistake" in one of Dmitri Shostakovich's compositions, he invariably responded, "Oh, I'll fix that in my next piece."

I think we have to accept that what we do is the best we can do at the moment. That's hard, because not only do we see it, but our audience also sees that this is the best we can do. We have to own our limitations and move on, and in creative work it's so subjective. Almost no matter how well you do, there will be some who don't like it. But endless revising limits our output and experimentation, which in turn limits innovation. The article's author, Terry Teachout, says perfectionism begins with indecision, but it's just as likely they are the same thing, not being able to decide which way to take a piece, how much to polish, if it is done, etc. Perfectionism is there at each stage.

And, it's not just in writing and making art. I had this issue when training for martial arts tests, and waited too long for my first level black belt. An instructor explained that to me, saying, "if your test is perfect, you waited too long." It only has to work, and this is something much less subjective in martial arts than in art, writing, film, etc.

We have to make sure our standards work, that they contribute to our output.

Dylan and Diaz

Have won Pulitzer Prizes, along with Hass, Schultz and Friedlander (who? I know.)

As much as I like Diaz, even he is not at the same level as Dylan. It's like the Pulitzer normally rewards a certain degree of achievement, and only occasionally reaches for the real stars. They ought to create a special prize for Dylan.

But that's just me.

Article.

Sound of Silence

Nah, it's Art Garfunkel, reading.

Hm, wonder what Dylan has been reading.

This came in as a comment from mirrorball, but it's too good not to list: http://ralphriver.blogspot.com/2006/09/more-dylan-thefts.html

Course to me, those "thefts" are more in the realm of homage to earlier masters. See what you think.

R.I.P. Luciano Pavarotti

I think this clip of Nessun Dorma is the most moving of the videos of him. His expression at the end especially.

You can also see him with James Brown:



And, with Meat Loaf:

The Savage Beasts: Not To Be Soothed

Violinist Joshua Bell participated in an experiment for the Washington Post. He agreed to play at a subway station during the morning rush hour to see how many people would stop to listen. Predictions varied, but Bell, who is one of the world's greatest violinists, did not expect to be all but ignored. Only a few people stopped to listen at all, and two of those had played the violin themselves. He made approximately $50.

Comments ranged from, he would have made more money playing in the park on nice day, to, the Washington Post illustrated its own point by speeding up the video so that you can't listen to the music, to, nobody notices much, anyway.

Here is my story: One evening, as I was walking uptown from a job in the Wall Street area, I saw a rainbow that stretched across the East River, framing the Brooklyn Bridge. It was dazzling. Of the thousand or so people streaming around me on the pavement, going home, only one other person stopped to look, and it turned out to be someone I knew.

I do think however, that if Bell played on the green in Woodstock, NY, near where I now live, not only would much of the town shut down to listen, but the local hand drummers would probably join in, as well as whoever else was hanging on the green that day and had their guitars.