Do No Wrong
February 12, 2025
Every day when I step into my studio, I take a deep breath and remind myself: I can do no wrong here. I repeat it like a mantra, like a gentle affirmation that dissolves the pressure of perfectionism. It’s a quiet but powerful declaration that there are no mistakes in art. In this space, this sacred place of creation, I am free to explore, experiment, and express myself without hesitation.
Art has often been viewed through the lens of precision, technique, and control. Many aspiring artists are taught to seek perfection in their work—to carefully measure every stroke, ensure every line is straight, and make sure every color is meticulously blended. But this approach, though useful in certain forms of art, can be stifling. It can choke the very essence of creativity and turn art into a rigid, technical task rather than an expressive, transformative experience.
So, in my studio, I’ve chosen to reject that mindset. Instead, I approach my work with a completely different philosophy: that there is no such thing as a “mistake.” Every brushstroke, every color I mix, every texture I create, is part of the journey. Some days the results might not be what I expected, but I’ve learned to trust the process, knowing that it’s all valuable, all part of the unfolding. It’s all leading somewhere.
When I remind myself that there are no mistakes in art, it doesn’t mean I’m not focused or that I let go of my technical abilities. On the contrary, I still strive for growth and improvement in my craft. But I do so with the understanding that sometimes, mistakes—whether intentional or not—are where the most beautiful discoveries happen.
By releasing the fear of being “wrong,” I allow myself to create with an open heart. I approach every blank canvas, every sketchbook, with a sense of curiosity and adventure. What can I create today? What new direction might this painting or drawing take me? It’s about letting go of control and allowing the work to evolve organically, even if it means taking risks or stepping outside my comfort zone.
In this way, the studio becomes a space of possibility, not pressure. It’s a place where I can fully immerse myself in the act of creation without second-guessing or overthinking. I trust that, no matter how the work turns out, I’ve put something of myself into it—my energy, my thoughts, my feelings—and that’s the most important thing.
This mindset is something I carry with me beyond the studio as well. It’s a reminder that life itself doesn’t have to be about avoiding mistakes or striving for flawless results. Instead, it’s about embracing the imperfections, learning from them, and recognizing that they are an integral part of the process. Whether in art or in life, growth often comes from moments of vulnerability, trial, and error.
So, when I’m in my studio, I remind myself that there is no room for fear, no space for judgment, and no such thing as failure. There is only creation. And in that freedom, I am able to pour my heart and soul into my work. This is the only way I know how to create, and it’s what makes every piece I produce an authentic expression of who I am in that moment.
If you’re an artist or anyone who creates, I encourage you to try this mindset for yourself. Let go of the idea that every move must be perfect, and instead, embrace the uncertainty and the messiness of the process. The beauty is in the journey, not just the destination.
In the studio, as in life, the greatest creations often come from those moments when we dare to let go of control, trust the process, and remind ourselves: there are no mistakes here. Only possibilities.
The Christopher Mudgett archive collection is the only one in the world to present the artist’s up-to-date painted, sculpted, engraved and illustrated œuvre and a precise record—through sketches, studies, drafts, notebooks, photos, books, films and documents—of the creative process.

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