Sincerity vs Perfectionism: Why This Distinction Might Save Your Creative Life

Why on earth would I even start an article about sincerity 'versus' perfectionism?

Because most of us collapse the two without realising it.

And in that collapse, artistry quietly loses its clarity.

In the last decades of working with creative professionals in multiple capacities, I’ve seen a pattern emerge with surprising consistency.

Artists claiming to be “letting go of perfectionism” when, in reality, many might have quietly loosened sincerity.

And those are not the same thing. Not even close.

One is liberation. The other, avoidance dressed in spiritual athleisure.

And the truth is that very few artists develop perfectionistic tendencies because they’re egotistical or controlling. Many develop them because somewhere along the line, it stopped feeling safe to be human.

A parent’s expectations, a teacher’s offhand remark, an industry that rewards a narrow bandwidth of “excellence,” or the simple ache of not feeling enough...

These things accumulate. They shape how we show up. They shape how we hide. And they shape how we create.

For others, it comes from dysfunctional pedagogy: years of being trained in rooms where shame was confused for motivation and fear was mistaken for discipline. And for many artists who lacked mentorship altogether, perfectionism becomes the substitute: “If I can control everything, maybe I won’t get it wrong.”

So when we talk about sincerity versus perfectionism, we’re not comparing virtues. We’re tracing the emotional architecture behind how art gets made.

This distinction becomes important not because of aesthetics, but because of integrity.

The Collapse: Why We Confuse the Two

Perfectionism has earned such a bad reputation that almost anything can hide behind its shadow.

Don’t want to practise?
“I’m trying not to be a perfectionist.”

Didn’t prepare for a gig?
“I’m learning to embrace imperfection.”

Uploaded something half-baked and called it “authentic”?
“It’s about being real.”

Except it’s not. Not if we’re honest.

Sometimes “overcoming perfectionism” becomes a sophisticated escape from doing our real work with sincerity. The kind of sincerity that has nothing to do with flawlessness and everything to do with being accountable to our craft, our community, and ourselves.

Perfectionism stems from fear.
Sincerity, from devotion.

And those two, as any serious creative will tell you, lead to profoundly different experiences.

Why Perfectionism Shows Up in the First Place

If we approach this with compassion, perfectionism becomes a clue rather than a flaw.

For many artists, it is the residue of:

Childhood environments where worthiness was conditional.
Teachers who framed mistakes as moral shortcomings.
Spaces where vulnerability was punished.
Families where excellence was currency.
A complete absence of mentorship that led to self-surveillance becoming the default.

Perfectionism is rarely an artistic problem.
It is a nervous system problem.

It shows up not because we’re too ambitious, but because something in us learned that being anything less than impeccable could cost us belonging, safety, or dignity.

Once you see this clearly, sincerity becomes less of a performance metric and more of a healing practice.

What Sincerity Actually Means in Creative Work

Sincerity is not sentimentality.

It’s not romantic suffering or a “vulnerable” caption about how messy the process is.

Sincerity is:

Showing up with the full presence you’re capable of today, regardless of how your day is going.
Imagining the people who will receive your work and honouring them even if you doubt your own assessment.
Practising not for admiration, but because the craft deserves it.
Being willing to examine the weaker parts of your skill set without diminishing your strengths.
Aligning your actions with your values, not with your insecurities.

In psychological terms, sincerity is often closely linked to 'self-congruence' ; the alignment between what we say we value and what we actually do (Rogers, 1959).

The more this alignment grows, the more coherent and grounded the creative output.

Sincerity is not about working harder.
It’s about working truer.

A Moment From the Stage: Where This Became Real

My concert on International Jazz Day this year brought this entire conversation into sharp relief.

I had one of the most high-profile performances of my life: a completely solo set at the Auditorio de Tenerife, easily one of the most prestigious venues in Europe.

And I arrived there exhausted. Under the weather. Over-travelled. My voice hovering at maybe 70 percent. Right after an intense 2-week residency in Osaka, Japan.

Living nomadically while being a recording artist, studio musician, educator, and entrepreneur means there are seasons where all the threads pull at once. I had travelled long distances, juggled multiple professional hats, and found myself with only fragments of energy left to prepare.

This was not a moment where perfectionism could save me. It was one where sincerity was my best shot at 'doing my job' the best I could.

My thirty years of practice routines, the ones built quietly over decades, not in glamorous studios but in cramped rooms, in transit, in borrowed spaces, were what came back to hold me.

Not by making me perfect. But by reminding me that devotion accumulates.

In the heat of the moment, perfectionism would have broken me.

Sincerity steadied me.

The performance wasn’t flawless.
It was honest.
And it had to be enough.

This is the kind of difference I encourage my fellow artists to instill in their bones.

Not the pressure to be perfect, but the grounding that comes from having been deicated so long, that the work can carry us when our body is questioning its abilites to do the same.

What Perfectionism Actually Is (Spoiler: It’s Not “High Standards”)

Perfectionism, according to research (Frost et al., 1990; Hewitt & Flett, 1991), is fundamentally fear-based behaviour masquerading as ambition.

It is:

A strategy for avoiding judgement.
A refusal to be seen as human.
A compulsive attachment to control.
An attempt to secure self-worth through external outcomes.

High standards don’t drain creatives. They emerge naturally from commitment.

Perfectionism, on the other hand, drains creatives because it defines itself through external validation.

High standards expand possibilities.
Perfectionism erodes them.

High standards invite sincerity.
Perfectionism replaces that with self-surveillance.

The Backdoor Problem: When “Letting Go” Becomes a Shortcut

In the current arts landscape, the mantra “done is better than perfect” has become gospel. Useful, yes. But often misinterpreted.

Sometimes “done” is only “done” because we never allowed ourselves to go deep enough to begin with.
Sometimes the avoidance of perfectionism becomes the avoidance of responsibility.
Sometimes we call it “freedom” when it’s actually fatigue.
Sometimes we call it “authenticity” when it’s just speed.

And especially now, in an era of content churn, AI shortcuts, algorithm anxieties, and the subtle erosion of artistic standards, sincerity becomes the only real anchor we have left.

Sincerity creates what I call 'lineage'.
Perfectionism creates performance.

Sincerity builds a body of work.
Perfectionism is a subconscous but misguided attempt to build something vaguely similiar..

The Question That Cuts Through

For my more advanced students or collaborators, a question I invite them to ponder is this:

“Did we give this work our best sincere attempt today,
or our most convenient rationalisation?”

Sincerity demands courage.

It asks us to see the truth without collapsing under it.

It examines whether we could have been more present.
Checks if we skimmed instead of studying.
Makes sure we didn't hide behind a narrative because the alternative was vulnerability.

Sincerity asks for contact with reality.
Perfectionism tries to control it.

What Sincere Work Looks Like (and What It Doesn’t)

A sincere attempt does not mean:

The best performance of our life.
Flawless execution.
Endless revisions.
Heroic suffering.

A sincere attempt does mean:

We honoured the practice.
We didn’t betray your own standards
We were honest about where we held back.
We didn’t pass off avoidance as liberation.

Sincere work can be raw, unpolished, incomplete, even nonchalant. But never careless.

A subte line, but a deeply relevant one.

In the End, This Is About Integrity

Perfectionism is not the enemy.
Insincerity is.

Perfectionism is a misguided attempt at safety.
Insincerity is the abandonment of one’s own artistic soul.

We can be imperfect and still be fully responsible.
We can be unfinished and still be deeply honourable.
We can be human and still be devoted.

And that, perhaps, is the quiet revolution the world need right now:

Not 'more gloss.'
Not 'more convenience.'

Not more narratives designed to justify shortcuts.

But the kind of sincerity that brings us back into right relationship with our craft…and through that, with ourselves.

References

Frost, R. O., Marten, P. A., Lahart, C., & Rosenblate, R. (1990). The dimensions of perfectionism. Cognitive Therapy and Research.
Hewitt, P. L., & Flett, G. L. (1991). Perfectionism in the self and social contexts. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology.
Rogers, C. R. (1959). A theory of therapy, personality, and interpersonal relationships. In S. Koch (Ed.), Psychology: A Study of a Science.