“Perfect is the enemy of good.” —Voltaire

There’s an advantage to sticking around long enough. You discover what’s real and what matters — and what doesn’t. When you’ve watched creative people for decades, the patterns get easier to see.
Seeing what’s actually true
Most people aren’t wired to pursue excellence at the highest level. That level of devotion belongs to a small group. The reality for most artists is that good enough isn’t just acceptable — it’s what allows them to keep moving forward.
And let’s be honest:
Good enough can be and often is excellent.
This isn’t a quality debate. For that, I recommend reading Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. This timeless classic is a compelling, philosophical narrative about a motorcycle trip that becomes a search for what “quality” means, using the road as the world, the bike as your life, and maintenance as the way you live.
Excellence is rare, and that’s okay
What I’m talking about isn’t cynicism. It’s simply what I’ve seen, time and again. We strive for excellence, sure. But we’re also human beings carrying too much on our shoulders, trying to fit creative work into the real world, not an ideal one.
At some point, the need to justify everything fades. The work doesn’t have to validate your existence. It just has to be worth returning to.
A small number of people truly are wired for mastery. They make sacrifices most artists can’t or won’t make. Their drive is intense, their focus remarkable, and their priorities are arranged around the work in ways that most people wouldn’t choose.
I respect them. I learn from them. But I don’t confuse them with the norm.
Most artists want something balanced and human
Most artists I know want something different:
To make meaningful work, build a decent life, and stay grounded while doing it. They want to create art they are proud of — not necessarily become the next big name, not necessarily produce a legacy-defining masterpiece each time they sit down to work.
There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s a sustainable, enjoyable way to live as an artist. Go for joy!
There is something deeply gratifying about making art. Every weekly post I write is not my magnum opus. I strive for excellence and probably spend more time than I should to craft each blog. But I still ship on time, as I always have. Shoot for perfection with what you’ve got at the time and send it into the world.
If you give it your best, it’s going to be good enough—and maybe even excellent.
What we rarely say out loud: the reality behind creative work
Some things go on in our creative lives that we all recognize but rarely talk about. Everyone is unique, with certain innate talents that no amount of studying or exercising can manufacture. Talent is one thing; what we do with it is another.
Some people have the goods to take it far. Others will struggle no matter how hard they try. That’s life. It’s not always fair and never even. Someone always has the upper hand.
We’re told to strive for excellence in everything, but the truth is that excellence is incredibly hard to repeat. Sometimes you get one great moment — and that’s it. The sophomore slump is real.
Musicians spend years perfecting the songs that end up on their breakout album. Then the label wants the next one in months. They don’t have the same reservoir of material, or they’re burned out from climbing the mountain the first time. Across the arts, sports, and life, variations of that same story play out. Repeat Super Bowl and World Series wins are rare for a reason.
And then there’s the micro level — your studio, your home, your everyday life. You make choices about the work you produce and the effort you put into promoting it. Those decisions are mostly quiet, undebated, and almost subconscious. You instinctively know when to go all-in and when to rein it in.
Sometimes you realize that if you work a little faster and let go a little sooner, you still end up with something excellent, even if it isn’t perfect. It’s good enough. And the benefit of working this way is that you keep your momentum. You build inventory. You give yourself room to market without overextending.
And when you start catching a rhythm with this approach — when you trust it enough instead of fighting it — that’s when you discover something surprising:
Good enough is damn good.
The practical minimalist approach
It also fits neatly inside what I call Practical Minimalism: doing less better; choosing the most appropriate tools for the job; avoiding the spirals of opinion, noise, and comparison; and being honest about what you can actually achieve and what each new step costs in time, energy, and relationships.
Practical Minimalism isn’t about lowering your standards. It’s about knowing which standards matter and which ones don’t. It’s also about recognizing that a steady, grounded creative life beats a frantic, idealized one every time.
Why “good enough” keeps you going
And here’s the part we forget:
Good enough keeps you moving.
Good enough keeps you in the studio, the notebook, the darkroom.
Good enough keeps you in the conversation.
Perfection has a way of shutting everything down.
Good enough lets you continue.
That continuation — not the rare pursuit of mastery — is what builds a body of work, a career, and a life in the arts. It’s where most real progress happens. It’s where most confidence is built. And it’s where most people find the joy they’ve been trying to earn through impossible expectations.
Choosing the path that fits your life
Some artists are wired for the highest level of pursuit.
Most are wired for something more human — something that fits the contours of an actual life.
Both are valid.
Only one is sustainable for most people.
A thought for the New Year
What if “good enough” isn’t your compromise — it’s your way forward?
What if it’s the pace that keeps you creating, exploring, experimenting, and living the life you actually want to live — not the one you think you’re supposed to chase?
Sticking around long enough teaches you that.
And it turns out, sticking around is where the real work — and the real rewards — are found.
Wherever you are, and whatever you celebrate this season or in the year ahead, I send you warm wishes for health and harmony in your life. It’s not always easy, but I still see the goodness around us — and most days, that’s more than enough.

I came back to art late in life. I was almost 50 when I reinvested in visual art with passion and skill. For about 11 years, I was driven to “produce,” build an art business and leave corporate. Didn’t happen. I did build a body of work, but pandemic hit, parents needed a lot more care and the time and (more importantly) emotional energy disappeared. I retired at 62, to my surprise. At the moment, I am not hot to create…actually I rarely do anything. I’m okay with that. I feel like “someday” is just around the corner. For now, a less demanding life is ideal. Slowly gathering my thoughts, energy and emotions to start my creative process again. At the moment I feel like the character, Santiago in The Alchemist. He was told that if one loses their fortune more than once they have a special ability in life. Definitely lost it twice but I have the highest hope I will find it again.
Hi Eddie,
Thank you for sharing your journey, Eddie. It’s inspiring to hear how you returned to art later in life and built such a meaningful body of work, even through challenges that demanded your time and energy. Your reflection on The Alchemist is powerful and holding onto hope and recognizing resilience as a special ability is a beautiful perspective. Stepping back to rest and gather strength is just as much a part of the creative process as producing, and it sounds like you’re honoring that phase right now. I believe that “someday” you mention will arrive, and when it does, your art will carry even deeper layers of experience and meaning.
Best Wishes,
Barney
Interesting article. Thought provoking.
Some of us don’t know what we want..it’s often like a love hate relationship that we can’t leave. 🙂
Thank you, Morri. I appreciate your perspective—it’s true that the creative journey can feel like a love–hate relationship at times. Not always knowing exactly what we want is part of the process, and even that uncertainty can spark growth and new directions. I’m glad the article resonated with you and prompted reflection.
Best Wishes,
Barney
I am passionate about photography and didn’t get learn a lot about it until I retired and took a class. That was 2015. I’m almost 76 and have evolved to abstracts, photos thru crystal balls, animals, people, flowers…everything. I love creating and also getting a sharp photo that makes people comment “wow.” I still need to learn more about my camera’s settings. I may join to learn more. I love all you said. Thank you.
Thank you, Faith, for sharing your story. It’s wonderful to hear how your passion for photography has grown and evolved since retirement—your curiosity and creativity shine through in the way you describe your work. Exploring abstracts, crystal ball shots, and capturing those “wow” moments shows how deeply you connect with the art form. The fact that you’re still eager to learn more about your camera settings is inspiring; that lifelong learning spirit is what keeps creativity fresh. I’m glad the article resonated with you, and I hope you continue to find joy in every new experiment and discovery.
Best Wishes,
Barney
Great article! This is something I have struggled with so much and really needed to read today. Thank you!
Thank you for your kind words. I’m glad the article reached you at the right moment and offered some encouragement. It means a lot to know the ideas shared can help ease struggles and bring clarity. Wishing you strength and confidence as you continue navigating your journey.
Best Wishes, Barney
Loved this article. Hit home, so true, inspiring. Thank you.
Thank you, Paula. I’m glad the article resonated with you and offered encouragement at the right time. Knowing it inspired you means a lot, and I appreciate you sharing that. Wishing you continued strength and clarity as you move forward.
Barney