Creativity Isn’t the Problem — Perfectionism Is
Creativity is one of the most natural things we do as humans. It’s how we imagine, explore, and bring to life something that didn’t exist before. Whether through painting, writing, music, or dance, creativity taps into a part of us that is raw, playful, and deeply alive.
And yet, so many of us struggle to create. We sit down to write but freeze at the blank page. We dream up ideas but abandon them before they begin. The issue isn’t talent—it’s psychological. Specifically, it’s the way our minds manage conflict.
Meet Your Inner Cast: Id, Superego, and Ego
Freud gave us a simple way to understand this. The psyche has three players:
The Id → Primitive instincts. Wants pleasure now. (Picture a toddler screaming for candy in the checkout line.)
The Superego → Moral judge. Wants order, safety, and perfection. (The stern parent saying, “No candy before dinner.”)
The Ego → The mediator. Tries to balance both sides with reality. (“If you wait, you can have dessert later.”)
This push-and-pull is constant. The id pushes for freedom, the superego demands control, and the ego tries to broker peace. For artists, that battle often shows up as blocks, perfectionism, or chaos.
The Superego: Your Inner Critic
If the id is the wild child, the superego is the strict parent. It thrives on rules, shame, and fear. Its favorite promise: If you get everything right, you’ll finally be safe, accepted, and worthy.
Sound familiar? That’s perfectionism talking. Maybe you’re:
Obsessing over every brushstroke.
Trying to write the “perfect” piece.
Afraid of rejection, mistakes, or falling short of the standard.
Here’s the trap: perfection doesn’t exist. Show me a perfect tree, a perfect body, a perfect piece of art. You can’t. And yet the superego whispers that if you just work harder, you’ll get there. The result? Anxiety, shame, paralysis.
The Id: Messy, Imperfect, and Necessary
The id doesn’t care about rules. It wants freedom, pleasure, and play. It’s the part of you that wants to splatter paint, write nonsense, or improvise without knowing where it’s going.
Unchecked, the id can be reckless—overspending, bingeing, chasing thrills. But when it’s completely locked away, something worse happens: your creativity dies.
Art needs mess. It needs risk. It needs imperfection. Children know this instinctively when they build forts out of blankets or invent imaginary worlds. They aren’t worried about being judged. They just play. That’s the id at work—and it’s the foundation of creative flow.
The Ego: Boundaries and Balance
If the superego is the critic and the id is the rebel, the ego is the translator. Its job is to keep both sides in check so you don’t collapse under shame—or spiral into chaos.
In art, the ego is what:
Shapes raw impulses into something shareable.
Sets limits so the id can play safely.
Protects you from burnout or self-destruction.
Think of it this way: the ego doesn’t silence the id—it builds the sandbox. It says, “You can play here, and I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
Practical Tools for Artists and Creatives
Understanding these forces is one thing. Working with them is another. Here’s how to create balance in practice:
Quiet the superego. Create a ritual that signals “no judgment allowed.” Dim the lights, play music, pour a glass of wine—whatever tells your inner critic to rest.
Invite the id. Start with low-stakes warm-ups: free-write for five minutes, doodle without lifting your pen, sing nonsense. The point isn’t to be good. The point is to loosen up.
Let the ego set boundaries. Use timers, budgets, or routines. Not to stifle you—but to give the id a safe playground.
Separate creating from editing. Creation is messy. Editing is judgment. Do them at different times. Don’t invite the superego in too early.
Come down gently. Flow is a high. End with a ritual—eat, shower, stretch, meditate—so you transition smoothly back into daily life.
Art as Psychological Liberation
At its core, creativity isn’t just about making something beautiful. It’s psychological work. Every time you create, you’re negotiating between freedom, rules, and balance.
Art becomes liberation when you allow your id to breathe, when you teach your superego to chill, and when your ego sets loving boundaries. That’s when your work feels alive—and so do you.
To create is to be free. To be messy, imperfect, human, and whole. And the world doesn’t need more perfect art. It needs more of you.