There’s a Voltaire quote that, roughly translated, goes like this: “the best is the enemy of the good.” That’s one tricky bugger of a quote, easily misconstrued; I read it as saying that we can drive ourselves crazy looking for the perfect solution when something workable is right here and at hand, so we should take that and move on. That’s good practical advice, and I heartily endorse it in all manner of practical situations.
But there’s nothing whatsoever practical about artistic, intellectual, or creative aspirations. There is no accepting the good enough when artistry is on the table. In fact, the good enough spoils the good, as it leads to an attitude of complacency, of accepting the adequate, of settling for second-best even when we suspect that the truly good is within our reach. Good enough is never good enough for an artist. It will do just fine for a craftsman who needs to produce enough competent widgets to fulfill today’s orders; it will do just fine for workers who are measured on reliability and productivity; it will do just fine for any number of people in any number of situations.
But not artists. Even those modest figures of music history who show up only as footnotes in extensive regional music histories—say, Dresden kappellmeister Johann David Heinichen—weren’t good-enough types. Heinichen may not have the sheer supernova star-power of his colleague Johann Sebastian Bach (who does?) but he was a thorough, dedicated, and first-rate musician. Nobody ever mentions that Heinichen was Bach’s colleague in Anhalt-Cöthen, for example, of that amongst his students was Christoph Graupner—Leipzig’s choice for musical director over Bach, who got the job only when Graupner could not secure a release from his employment in Hesse-Darmstadt. Heinichen was a bonafide master, but who knows much about him nowadays? (Well, I do, but as we all know, I’m an incorrigible music history wonk.)
And if J. D. Heinichen wasn’t anywhere near a good-enough type, what does that say of those artists whose names are practically lit up in neon? Nobody with an attitude of ‘good enough’ could have created the St. Matthew Passion. Beethoven never muttered “oh, well, I guess that’ll do” as he wrote the Eroica. Think of Brahms, who burned anything he considered to be a trial composition or not worthy of public consumption. Or Mendelssohn, who managed to combine a career as composer, conductor, pianist, and organist, all at the highest professional levels. Richard Wagner, who would stop at nothing, who would use anybody, who would do anything, to achieve his lofty goals.
Now, it’s true enough that Beethoven was a lonely man with a chaotic personal life. However, there isn’t all that much evidence pointing to him being actually unhappy in an absolute sense, despite his struggles with encroaching deafness and the sloppy fallout from his temper tantrums. There’s abundant evidence, at least in his music, of his having made a certain peace with the world. Brahms was solitary but not really lonely and certainly not unhappy, and I find nothing in his biography implying that his uncompromisingly high standards were anything other than his natural modus operandi. Some astoundingly creative musicians—Joseph Haydn, for example—come across as downright joyous about it all. Think of the wonderful pianist Arthur Rubinstein, who may have wrestled with his share of insecurity and self-doubt, but had himself a whale of a good time despite a concert schedule that would have flattened most folks, while he maintained an active repertory that encompassed just about everything essential from Beethoven through Debussy.
In other words, a drive for one’s best need not be accompanied by guilt, neurosis, insecurity, or corrosive hyper-perfectionism. For many of history’s most celebrated artists, good enough wasn’t ever even up for consideration. It’s just how they operated. And yet they still had enough time for recreation. (J.S. Bach: 20, possibly 21, children. Unless he was a unerringly perfect shot, that’s a lot of sex.)
You find the rejection of the good enough in a host of other quotations and quips. I love Alan Jay Lerner’s description of a theatrical project that was so utterly dreadful that it could only have been the work of truly gifted people. Edison’s familiar statement about genius being 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.
But the good enough is so damn attractive! It beckons us, coyly, promising release from our present conundrum if we just claim “good enough” and be done with it. We all know that no worthwhile project is ever really and truly finished; it’s more abandonment than completion as a rule. But there’s a world of difference between saying I’ve gone as far as I can go with this right now; maybe tomorrow or next week or next year I’ll be able to do something more with it and piping up with a glib Yeah, I could do a lot better, but this will be good enough. We all get tired, grumpy, frustrated, fed up. That’s when the voices start: It’ll be good enough for a Monday. Or even worse: this isn’t very important, after all; it’s just a silly paper/theory assignment/solfege/translation/accompaniment; it’ll be good enough to get by. Or hitting rock bottom: there aren’t going to be many people at the concert/gallery/exhibition/lecture, after all, so this half-formed piece/painting/sculpture/talk will be good enough for now.
It sounds so reasonable, so wittily Voltaire-ish: the best is the enemy of the good, remember: don’t drive yourself bats trying to make every sow’s ear into a silk purse. But you’re an artist, baby. Silk purses are what you do.