This weekend I was driving down the river road and saw a young artist with his easel set up on the bike path.  He was standing in front of his canvas, painting the beautiful Fall colors.  I turned and craned my neck to see how he was doing as I drove by.  There were colors and lines on the canvas, a half-finished work of art.  “That’s brave,” I thought, standing there in public where anyone could watch his process, see the humble beginnings, judge what might not look like much in the middle.

I remembered watching Bob Ross on public television when I was a kid.  My dad liked to watch him teach the audience how to paint landscapes, and Mr. Ross did have a mesmerizing quality about his voice (painting all his “happy little trees.”)  I was fascinated by his process—he’d start painting the scene and it would look like a mess.  It looked like a mess until he was more than half-way through–  every time I watched, I was sure he had totally botched his painting this time.  Wouldn’t you know, he always managed to turn his mess into a miracle, and end the show with a lovely nature scene.

All this has got me thinking about Perfectionism lately.  Continue reading