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There is a moment when you come to realize that your work is done. There is nothing left to do, nothing to add. You step back to take in what you have accomplished and your eye is drawn to that tiny little spot that isn't quite perfect. You knew it was there and you aren't too worried about it. It crosses your mind to fix it, but you decide not to because it will change everything else and, except for that one tiny flaw, the rest is pretty darn good. You're proud of yourself. You feel good about your art.

Then your eye jumps up to another spot; a spot you weren't aware of. This one is not so tiny. In fact it is a huge, glaring, ugly blemish. You wonder how you didn't notice. You groan inwardly and wonder how you can fix it. Suddenly you don't feel that good about it anymore.

Someone comes in and says, "Hey, that's beautiful. I like it." And you know that they are just being polite. You point out the mistakes. They look at you like you're insane and say, "I never noticed." Or, "I think it looks cool." You roll your eyes at their ineptitude for knowing bad art when they see it.

As artists we are simply unable to view our own work objectively. Our creations are not just brush strokes or pencil shading or chisel marks. They are projections and reflections of us. Our thoughts and feelings are imbedded into every action it takes to bring about our art. What stands on our easels, our sculpting tables, our looms is part of us. It even contains our own DNA. A flaw seems unacceptable because a flaw in our art means that we are also flawed.

I keep a picture of the Mona Lisa in my office. It is there to remind me that even though I may believe the art is flawless, Da Vinci probably shook his own head at it when he was done. Somewhere in those brush strokes is a huge, glaring, ugly blemish that horrified Leonardo.

I'm no Da Vinci. Not even close! But I have learned to look at my art with loving eyes and to see the flaws in it as little lessons in being humble. The imperfections are rarely commented on by those who see my art and I no longer feel compelled to point them out. Drawing attention to them just makes them seem bigger. Sometimes I will put my work away and not look at it for weeks. When I pull it out to view it with fresh eyes, often I cannot even remember the mistakes. Just as often, I find something new and wonderful that I had not noticed before.

Accepting your art is, essentially, accepting yourself. Be at peace with who you are and your art work will become a peaceful reflection of that. It won't be perfect, but it will keep you pointed in the right direction. Your art can teach you many things, most importantly, perhaps, is acceptance itself.

Learn more about this author, Toni McKilligan.
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