I’m always dancing on the edge of a perfect line and a splatter of paint. I stare at the canvas until it feels like a mirror of my soul, then I feel the urge to erase everything I’ve already done. The trick I’ve learned is to put a small, “perfect” version of the piece in one corner and let the rest of the work bleed into the chaos. That way I can still see the clean, ideal form that keeps me moving forward, while the messy bits become the heart of the piece. It’s a bit like breathing: you can’t control every breath, but you can feel the rhythm and let the rest flow. I remind myself that beauty doesn’t need to be flawless; it just needs to be real. When I feel myself getting stuck, I pause, step back, and listen to the quiet hum of the paint drying. That’s where the unexpected moments show up, and that’s where the true emotion lives. So, keep chasing the dream, but let the mess whisper back to you.