Thursday, October 23, 2008

The Perfect Solution





















I would like to take back the word “perfectionist.” Let’s start by assuming that perfection is something we can actually attain. For instance, some people say that people there is no such thing as a perfect circle, but, for all practical purposes, there is. Let’s call this perfect. Near perfect is perfect.

Why am I defining perfection? Because I have seen many screenwriters and others use unattainable perfection as a false goal that allows them to procrastinate. How many of you have been working on “that project” for years? Chances are you are afraid to move forward because when the project is done it will not be “perfect.”

Ultimately you’re afraid of judgment—your own or someone else’s. Someone may see your mistakes and you will be confronted with your shortcomings. As long as the project exists only in your head, it is an uncompromised ideal.

Perfection is a way not to finish. It is a way not to make decisions, because you might make the wrong decision. It is a way not to be judged. But being judged is a part of being an artist. If you are unwilling to take this risk, you are not an artist.

If you do the best job you possibly can, then by definition you can do no better. This is when you stop, because this is as close as any of us get to perfection.

I have a friend, Pat Hazell, who is a writer. He talks about it like this. He says that people will start a script, and maybe get ten pages in before they go back to perfect those pages, then back again to perfect those pages. And as he puts it, “They think they’re writing.”

This quest for the unattainable creates the illusion of progression without the results. In his novel The Plague, Albert Camus created a would-be novelist, Joseph Grand, who ceaselessly revised his first sentence, never getting beyond it.





The thing to remember is that all artists share this fear that they will produce crap that everyone hates. Usually, only the worst artists do not have this fear.

Years ago I was at Comic-con in San Diego with my friend Brian O’Connell. Brian is an illustrator and director over at Lucasfilm working on the Star Wars’ Clone Wars television show. But at the time he was just a guy trying to break into comics who was being passed over by no-nothing comic book editors who could not see his talent.

One person who could see his talent was comic artist Mike Mignola. Mike saw Brian’s work and was so impressed that he showed us some pages for his new comic book called Hellboy, which no one had heard of yet. Mike had not even finished the first book. Brian and I were blown away. These were truly beautiful pages.

Brian thought he’d make a joke and said with a straight face, “You need to work on your proportions.”
Mike got a sheepish look on his face and said, “Yeah, I know.” Brian had to explain that he was just joking and that the pages were amazing.

Even Mike Mignola, who is very, very good, has his doubts about his work. But this doubt does not stop him from creating. Don’t let it stop you. Understand that the imperfect work you produce is far better than the perfect work that lives only in your head. Sit down and get it done.

If you work hard the next thing will be better and the next thing will be better still. Which is perfect.

3 comments:

riley(kabear) said...

Your posts make me feel guilty that i'm not watching more old films and making things!! which is good. I need motivation. Also, still no acting class... sorry. But i'm taking band again, after 4 years without any real music playing in my life, which makes me immensely happy. Hope you're well. and will update soon.

Bag-iw Art Society said...

Hi Brian,

Hope you have a merry christmas! Thanks again for sharing your knowledge!

I'll try practicing this for my new year's resolution!

Mancomb said...

Brian! It's been too long, we need to catch up dude! Been working on my graphic novel for some time now, bit by bit, and it's progressing!

Loved the blog entry; one thing I discovered was that trying to do every part of it myself and not asking for help was holding me back so much. I guess that goes back to trying to make it a perfect story, with perfect art and perfect structure. But I know that I can't, and perhaps, am not meant to carry out works like this alone; I've found that it's just not the way I am wired. Fear of judgement, fear of failure--I should instead fear the judgement and failure of not carrying out the works that I know I am called to. I know it all comes down to the measure of faith I have.