I am a painter with a goal to make money. I’m not as much of what I would consider a “true artist” who is in love with the craft and history of it all. For a long time, I was slightly ashamed to admit that.

I thought wanting to make money made me sound greedy or less than other artists. But after a while, I just said, “heck with it” and leaned into my business-minded artistic side. I’m really good at making money with a paintbrush, and I make a lot of it in not very many hours. I teach it because that’s what I’m passionate about, so if you’re at all interested in making money with a paintbrush and not just doing it for fun, then I have a big tip for you.

See, I don’t mind painting something random if someone pays me enough and I don’t mind stopping a project and walking away when it’s at the good enough stage. If a customer doesn’t have an amazing budget, then I don’t make an amazingly realistic best-of-my-ability painting. I’m okay with doing a good job, but not an amazing one if the situation calls for it. And I take that theory into the rest of my work life…

If I spent just a couple more months on my book it would be that much better. I could’ve added more humor, less rambling, and more whimsical words to help paint a picture of every story I told within the pages. But I didn’t. I called it done and moved on.

Every single time I record a solo podcast episode, I seriously consider lighting it on fire and starting over. I’m tempted to spend another hour going back over the subject I just talked about, but this time make it so much smoother.

Almost every mural design I create, at one point or another, I look at it and think why didn’t I stretch my creativity a little further to make it look just a bit better?

In the middle of painting, I’ll often want to add a small detail or change a small part, but I make myself move on and come back to it in the end. “If it still bothers me when everything is complete then I’ll add/change that part.”

But 90% of the time nothing gets changed, because the overall look of the mural isn’t reliant on a small detail.

My art business won’t crumble if a small detail is incorrect or out of place. I’ll get to it eventually, or not.

Currently, everything runs comfortably. Not perfect, but comfortable.

So, when can you call it good enough?

If the customer is happy, then it’s good enough.

If I can say that I gave at least an 80% effort, then that’s good enough for me. Because I know adding that extra 20% often takes waaaaay longer than necessary.

Let’s chat about the idea of leaving perfectionism behind and putting things out there that are good enough on this week's episode of the Artist Academy Podcast.