Hear my Voice, Know my Name!

Embracing the Journey of Art

It’s that time again. I’ve finished my latest collection of paintings, packed them up, and sent them off. They’re out of my hands now—yikes! Sitting here without the familiar push of a deadline, I’m left with space to reflect. Honestly, I’m good at reflecting—maybe too good. Sometimes I wish I could switch off and let it go, but no. I have to process, justify, and explain myself. I know I’m not alone in this.

The fear kicks in whenever you put something you’ve created out into the world. What if nobody likes it? What if nobody gets it? What if I’ve wasted months creating these pieces? Dramatic, I know, but thanks for listening. I know you get it too.

The Challenge of Comparison

I imagine people looking at my paintings and thinking, She’s asking how much? For that? In my head, they question the value of my work because it’s not photorealistic. It feels as if the only paintings worthy of admiration are those that mimic reality perfectly. Surely anyone could paint that, right? I know that’s not true, but comparison is a hard habit to break.

Just the other weekend, I saw work by one of my favourite artists. It was so good it made me want to give up painting entirely! I joked about it in the comments, but part of me wasn’t joking. That’s the perfectionism talking.

Letting Go of Perfectionism

Here’s the truth: I don’t want to be a photorealistic painter. That’s not me. It’s not what my creative soul needs. Sure, I could train myself to paint with that kind of precision, but where’s the freedom in that? I do follow certain rules when I paint—composition, scale, colour, tone—but perfectionism? No thanks.

I’m not interested in creating perfect things. I love the imperfect, the expressive, the wild, the quirky. Painting realistically would feel like trying to control something that’s meant to be free. Anti-perfectionism is at the heart of how I create.

The Rebellion of Creativity

I’ve spent too many years following rules, being the good girl, and staying safe. Where did that get me? Creativity and painting have been my rebellion against that. Painting allows me to break free from needing to be perfect, to let go of control, and to trust the process. It’s taught me that what I love and what I create will resonate with the right people. The ones who criticise or don’t get it? That’s not my problem.

Not every day in the studio feels the same. Some days, I need comfort and control, so I paint detailed, precise shapes. Other days, I turn on the wild woman playlist and let loose. I throw paint, layer colour, and let the brushstrokes run free.

In a world that pressures us to be polished, productive, and perfect, my wild brushstrokes and unexpected color combinations feel like rebellion. It’s a refusal to conform. It’s a celebration of imperfection.

A Value Beyond Numbers

Do I think my paintings are worthy of what they sell for? Absolutely. I know what’s gone into them: the thought, the hours, the emotional labor, the vulnerability. You can’t measure that with an hourly rate. Each quarter, when I assess my taxes, I brace myself, worried that the numbers will tell me I need to find a ‘real job.’ So far, they’ve told me I can keep going—and I have kept going for quite some time now.

Even though 99% of the paintings I’ve ever created—hundreds of them—have been chosen by someone willing to exchange their hard-earned money for one, it amazes me every time. My work hangs in galleries and homes across multiple cities and continents, yet it still floors me when someone connects with a piece. That’s not perfection—that’s connection.

Finding Beauty in Imperfection

So, no, my paintings aren’t perfect. Real beauty—the kind that makes you feel something—comes from the cracks, the quirks, the wildness, and the story behind it. My art isn’t about getting it ‘right.’ It’s about creating something true, and I’m happy with that. Thank you for listening.