Atzo emazteak ta biok 7 ordu eman genituen Arabako Unibertsitate Ospitaleko (Txagorritxuko) urgentzietan. Bezperan emazteak kolpea hartu zuen ezkerreko oinean eta hasieran mina zena atzo atsalderako ezin ibiltzea bilakatu zen. Beraz, iluntzean urgentzietara jo genuen 🧵
@i_ullibarri En los últimos meses hemos tenido que ir varias veces y nunca hemos estado menos de 8 horas. Una de las veces que no había mucha gente nos dijeron que solo había ¡un médico! Es alucinante lo de las urgencias de Txagorritxu.
The other day I posted about Mendez and his dailies, and about artists who can let go of a piece and move on. It's been a few days, and I'm still thinking about it.
When someone says "I'm a perfectionist" it sounds like a humble brag. But if you actually live with it, you know it's not a badge. It's a weight.
I've been making collage for almost 20 years. I've worked with clients I dreamed of as a kid. By any reasonable measure, things have gone well. And yet every single piece I make, I'm convinced it's either the best thing I've ever done or the worst. No middle ground.
And this has nothing to do with the actual quality of the work. I look back at some old pieces I now know are bad, and I remember feeling that exact same impossible swing while making them.
The quality changed over twenty years. The feeling didn't.
That obsession is probably why the work looks the way it looks. I won't pretend otherwise. But if I'm honest with myself, seeing flaws where there are none, trying thirty more variations when the piece was already done ten versions ago... maybe that's not perfectionism. Maybe it's just fear. Fear of letting go. Fear of letting others see it and judge it.
That's why I admire artists who've built a discipline around releasing. The daily practice isn't just productivity. It's choosing, every single day, to show the work before the fear talks you out of it. That's not discipline. That's nerve.