I live in a community where art is highly valued and it’s obvious in our community calendar. There are galleries, markets, and even an annual event where small businesses are paired with local artists for two nights called Rockford Art Scene. For two nights, small businesses that normally sell crafts or coffee dedicate space inside their business for a local artist to display their work. They put a sign up out front and you could easily spend a few hours (and a couple hundred dollars) walking down one block - there are so many participants. The art is incredible and so unique. In one brewery, I saw my father in law’s drawings of local businesses. Then across the street at the local fried chicken spot, pop art of musicians I love and local heroes. 

One of the most popular stops is a dry cleaner. Yes, you read that right. A dry cleaner. You follow the strategically placed walls past the hanging area and climb up a narrow set of wooden, uneven steps. At the top, art. With all of the unique rooms and multiple levels, it hosts at least 10 artists every year. We never skip it. Fun fact: it was also the first place I ever sold my book in real life. 

What I love most is that each collection represents someone’s unique definition of what art is to them. What is beautiful to them.  Unlike a museum where collections are organized by time periods and similar styles, this format reminded me that what’s beautiful can be so different for each person.

Of course, as a business owner and Type-A overachiever, I caught myself doing the capitalist thing as I saw price tags and imagined how much money these people are making on art. I walked around and pondered what prints sell more than others, how they could optimize the flow of the shopping experience, and a bunch of other really annoying things that made me feel like I was turning into the bad kind of boomer for a minute. I mean, one spot had a $4,000 kayak for sale. All of a sudden, I’m wondering if I should shift my side hustle from gluten free baking to kayak making. 

Later that night, I was looking at all the art we acquired - a gift from my girlfriend who knows how I feel about a perfect handmade mug and a print for my favorite co-worker - when it clicked with me. Artists don’t always make stuff just for how much money they get. I’m sure money is a factor, but their style and ultimately what they create is because they like it. That’s a good enough reason to make something. 

Great artists don’t need a business model or mold, no template or temptation for perfection. They have to be brave enough to make something all the way until the point where they can call it finished. They have to trust the messy process of pulling strings. To push past the perfectionism and create because it’s beautiful to them. To face the feeling of defeat. To start over because they want to make something to remember what they loved about this life - something that might last so much longer than our days. 

I want that in my life. When I sit down to write my recruiting-focused blog, I find myself thinking a little too hard about what people want to read sometimes instead of writing about what I want to create. What I like. What I want to do to make the world more beautiful. The temptation to please is easy and the endorphins are real. I’ve been doing it that way for almost 20 years now. But as I prepare for top surgery and a lot of down time not doing much of anything, I manifest that the rest of my life is spent making things just because I like them. That I abandon perfectionism and create solely because I think it’s beautiful.