Always Starting Over, Never Finishing: Art & OCD
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Many struggle with near paralyzing perfectionism that leads to compulsive avoidance, do-overs, and ultimately despair.
Our culture often portrays perfectionism as a trait to be admired; a collection of tendencies that draw us closer to mastery of our craft, whatever that may be, and ultimately fulfillment. This is why when many people think of perfectionism, they think of the self-claimed perfectionism that bubbles up in effort to prove how dedicated one is to mastering their skill; I will call these the proud perfectionists. And amongst the ranks of proud perfectionists are those who struggle with the often paralyzing kind of perfectionism that leads to compulsive avoidance, do-overs, and ultimately despair. I happen to believe that there is a good percentage of cases in which the despairing perfectionist is just hiding beneath a bulky snowsuit of proud perfectionism, beneath a still bulkier more cumbersome snowsuit of confidence. Lots of layers there, and just as stifling as it sounds. If you’re picturing Ralphie’s little brother in The Christmas Story when he can’t lower his arms due to his winter tactical gear, you’re tracking with me.
The world tells you that you can run faster wearing one or multiple snowsuits. It is a gigantic lie that many of us only learn to be a lie when we start the race only to wind up flat on our faces, like Randy in his snowsuit, unable to even right ourselves. It wouldn’t be the first time the world tells us that the answer to feeling good (or even feeling less miserable) and finding fulfillment is actually the fast-track to epic disappointment and disillusionment. You thought you were buying the running shoes. You got the snowsuit instead.
While perfectionism can apply to any and every career, hobby, role and vocation, today I’m going to focus on that rarely discussed intersection of the fine arts and obsessive compulsive disorder. In the fine arts, the drive to be better and do better is praised, yet there is so much subjectivity in the art world that affirmation can be hard to come by. Many chase after an ideal style or form of expression, only to achieve it and realize no one else “gets it,” or the people with the purchasing power have an entirely different idea of what that ideal style or form of expression should be. In the sciences, for example, it is possible to answer every question on an exam correctly and achieve “perfection” (although we can only maintain this for so long), whereas in the art world, you could spend an entire lifetime honing your craft without a single word of praise. It is fertile ground for perfectionism, and for artists with OCD it can be particularly debilitating.
Intrusive thoughts and doubts about not being good enough commonly turn up in the fine arts, as well as intrusive thoughts and doubts about the appearance of the work not being “just right.” In response to this, many artists will compulsively begin new sketchbooks, drawings, and paintings (many times without finishing them).
While not every self proclaimed perfectionist has diagnosable obsessive compulsive disorder, perfectionism and OCD are often inextricably linked. In fact, perfectionism OCD is even a commonly accepted OCD subtype. Intrusive thoughts and doubts about not being good enough commonly turn up in the fine arts, as well as intrusive thoughts and doubts about the appearance of the work not being “just right.” In response to this, many artists will compulsively begin new sketchbooks, drawings, and paintings (many times without finishing them), overwork their paintings and drawings, seek compulsive reassurance from others that they are talented, or immediately apologize for their art being bad, rather than allowing it to speak for itself or accepting compliments from others who think it is actually quite good. Often there will be an exit from the art world altogether, resulting from the intrusive doubt that we could ever be good enough sell (or even display) our work.
Maybe you’re an artist surrounded by piles of unfinished sketchbooks, convinced that the next one you begin will be “the one” you can finish and feel good about. Maybe you avoid using your nice supplies because you feel unworthy of them. Maybe your time spent making art has become heavy, devoid of play. Maybe you’re considering giving up altogether. It may feel like that brand new sketchbook is the answer to feeling like a real artist, but it’s a fast track to disappointment and disillusionment. Three pages in, you’ll make a mark you dislike, and the cycle will continue. Those waiting to use their nice supplies will spend a lifetime trying to master cheap colored pencils, but do not be deceived; they don’t behave like Derwents because they’re not designed to behave like Derwents. And to those considering giving up the art world altogether, you may trade your paints for a skillet, a computer, or a golf club, but sooner or later you will encounter mistakes and disappointments that cause you to give up those pursuits, too.
Start approaching your art with more of an attitude of play and less of an attitude of seriousness and heaviness.
So what is the answer? First, seek out a mental health professional who is knowledgeable about OCD. If you do have OCD and begin working with an OCD specialist, there are ways to utilize exposure and response prevention in the art context. Second (and this is in conjunction with the first point), stop beginning new sketchbooks. Third, start approaching your art with more of an attitude of play and less of an attitude of seriousness and heaviness. It’s my opinion that the attitude of play yields far better results than the serious and heavy, anyway. And if no one likes what you draw or paint, that’s ok. It’s yours, and you created it. No one may ever “get” what you are trying to express. Adjusting to the idea that no one may ever like or understand is the pair of running shoes you’ve been looking for.
