If you're tired of following everyone else's rules all the time... Make Bad Art.
If you're tired of being micromanaged to fit into someone else's idea of how things should be done... Make Bad Art.
If you're sick of comparing yourself (and trying to live up) to all those "perfect" people on social media... Make Bad Art.
If you feel burned out or run down... Make Bad Art.
If you're feeling boxed in, stuck, and miss the joy of living outside the box... Make Bad Art.
When you were small, you made bad art all the time. You may remember—or may not—but you could make up a story that could go on for five straight minutes with no concern about logic, the laws of nature, or anything but pure imagination. Airplanes flying underground, fairy princesses in castles built on clouds, birds that could swim...
You may have invented wild feats of architecture with Lego bricks, or drawn impossible creatures every day without a second thought.
You probably fought dragons and supervillains under pillow forts wearing capes made of bath towels.
Whatever popped into your head was fine, with no inner critic telling you it was wrong.
Your imagination was a force of nature, you were a bundle of energy...and nothing stopped you except bedtime and your parents' patience.
You were probably around 4 years old. And you were amazing.
That energy isn't limited to little kids, though. Do you remember watching Robin Williams let loose at the movies, or in his stand-up routines?
There was nothing he wouldn’t do for a laugh. Nothing. Robin Williams was one of the most uninhibited people who ever walked the face of the earth.
When I look at scenes like this one, from Mrs. Doubtfire, I laugh, just like everyone else.
But I am also in awe. I'll bet, on some level, you are, too— and I think I know why:
That uninhibited part of you recognizes itself in his performance. It's begging you to remember it, and to let it out to play.
It can be exhausting trying to keep track of all the things you're supposed to be as an adult, much less actually be all those things. Seems to me it’s so much easier just to be yourself.
I find the more I stay true to who I am, the better things work out (which is why I'm actually breaking the rules as I write this page 😉).
If that idea has you breathing a sigh of relief, you’re in the right place.
If that sigh of relief is immediately followed by, “But, wait! I can’t do that! I’d get in trouble/disappoint someone/never be good enough/have no idea how to do that,” or something similar, believe me, I get it.
I’ve heard all those voices in my head, too. And I’ll let you in on a secret:
Those voices are not you.
Those voices were installed in your head by some folks who were almost certainly well-meaning—your parents, grandparents, teachers, bosses… but they’re not you.
They’re also not right.
I mean, sure, there are some rules that are really important. I’m pretty fond of traffic rules, myself.
But a lot of the time, we follow rules that are outdated, arbitrary, or just plain don’t make any sense.
My colleague Jocelyn Hastie recently told me a story about a horse show she participated in.
She finished showing her horse knowing they had lost. Among other things, they’d made some obvious errors right at the end, where the judge couldn’t possibly have missed them.
To her astonishment, the judge announced that Jocelyn and her horse had, in fact, won. Confused, she questioned him, pointing out that he couldn’t possibly have missed the error.
The judge, who was from Peru, replied, “I didn’t miss it. A North American judge looks for the fewest mistakes. A Peruvian judge looks for the most moments of brilliance.”
When you focus only on perfection, you only notice your mistakes, not your moments of brilliance.
And even when others point those moments out to you, they're hard for you to comprehend, much less appreciate.
But here's the thing: it doesn't have to be that way. Who would you be if you started noticing your moments of brilliance? If you let yourself take credit for them? If your mistakes weren't the most important thing anymore?
It’s fine to aim for excellence, but when you get too attached to the outcome, you can spend hours fixated on an ideal that doesn’t exist, or that doesn’t really matter.
That’s perfectionism, and it's why you feel untalented, not good enough, and exhausted, and wonder where the heck all your time went.
(Perfectionism is sometimes held up as a virtue, but it’s actually an ugly trap that keeps you caught in ways you often don’t see, and it can not only make you miserable and waste your time, but burn you out, fuel self-judgment, and destroy your relationships with others.)
In the meantime, you look at kids (or at Robin Williams) and you’re mystified. You'd love to get that energy back. But how? How do they do that?
They do it because they’re okay with making bad art. They’re not worried about what other folks say.
The 4-year-old's inner critic hasn’t been installed yet. Robin Williams learned not to listen to his.
Imagine being able to drop those voices telling you you're not good enough, that your work isn't perfect enough, and that you shouldn't even try something new because you won't be able to do it well enough.
Imagine creating just for the fun of it, without worrying about the outcome, and enjoying the process no matter what the product is like.
It may seem impossible, but you can de-fang your inner critic. It just takes time and practice. You might not get all the way to Robin Williams’s level, but you can get a whole lot closer than you are right now.
The inner critic has nothing to say if we’re not trying to create perfection. That’s the magic of Make Bad Art.
Make Bad Art is a six-week group program designed to help you get out of your own way so you can de-fang your inner critic; have more fun; notice, appreciate, and even revel in your moments of brilliance; and let your creativity blossom.
And it all happens via gentle steps in a supportive community. It can be tough to fend off the voices of family, work, and cultural expectations alone. It’s much easier when you’re not alone.
When you let go of our need to follow those rules, or produce the perfect outcome, things get really interesting, in the best ways.
You relax.
You have so much more fun.
Your relationships improve—with yourself and with others.
And you create a lot more, because you reconnect with your ability to play, just like you did when you were a kid.
Deborah came to Make Bad Art because she wanted to get rid of her perfectionism. She also didn’t believe she was creative even though she loved doing improv. She found herself so focused on the rules—on being the good girl—that she was worried about everything she did or said. If you’ve ever done improv, you know that’s the fastest, easiest way to take all the joy out of it—and to question your own creative capabilities.
By our last session, Deborah had completely re-evaluated her relationship with rules. She was able to look at them objectively, decide whether they were really necessary, and give herself permission to ignore them and do her own thing if they were not.
As a result, Deborah has been having more fun than she’s had in years. She’s laughing more, being drawn into younger social circles (because her energy has come alive), and creating bad art on a regular basis, just for the sheer joy of it.
While her story is inspiring, it’s not remarkable. My Make Bad Art students report that they feel more loose and open in every aspect of their lives. They’re not as hobbled by criticism, so they’re much more open to new ideas. It’s much easier for them to relax, be spontaneous, and roll with whatever life throws at them—and have more fun with it, too, because they operate from a greater spirit of play and curiosity. As a result, their relationships improve, because they’re less judgmental, both of themselves and others.
"I absolutely recommend Nancy to others. Working with her has taken me to places and to depths that I did not expect.
"I would recommend her to anybody who wants a different relationship with their creativity, but I would also recommend Nancy to anybody who wants a shift in their relationship with themselves."
—Beth, painter and mixed media artist
Six weekly two-hour sessions examine the 9 Ps of my Anti-Perfectionism Formula:
There's also time on each call to intentionally make bad art. Why? You have to make bad art before you can make good art. All the gold is in the things you’re afraid to make—the things you think won’t be good enough, that you’re not allowed to make, shouldn’t make, or are half-baked.
The more bad art you make, the more good art will sneak out in the process, along with your childlike sense of fun and wonder.
On the calls and online, you will also take time to observe the anti-perfectionism process, being gentle with yourself as you gain awareness of how this process works in general and for yourself.
One of the core principles of Make Bad Art is this:
You do not have to make bad art perfectly. You do not even have to use the tools perfectly (if you did, you’d be exhibiting perfectionism)! You are a flawed human being making flawed art because that’s what it is to be human, and THAT IS OKAY.
Heck, you don't even have to be an artist. Here's the kind of art I used to draw for my students when I was teaching:
(I still remember which kid decided they should have exploding heads. Ya gotta love middle schoolers.)
If you can draw stick figures, or write bad poetry, you'll do just fine in Make Bad Art. Better than fine, even.
And don’t worry: there is literally no way to fail at making bad art (except not to do it at all). You can even do it with your kids or grandkids.
And you can’t do it wrong! Just like when you were a kid. As long as you’re willing to try, to see what you can come up with, you can’t screw it up. (Did you watch my video at the top of the page? If not, you should. It’s short. I promise it’s worth it.)
"Being a creative person, sometimes you do feel like you live in your own world and that nobody else understands the creative process. I really enjoyed meeting other creative people in Make Bad Art and hearing them talk about their creative lives.
"The course also gave me different ideas on how to make time to be creative, and how to respect my creativity—all those things that are usually not encouraged.
"I see now that my art is definitely worth the time, and that’s powerful. The other day, I had this big project, so I got started by making several small steps. Thanks to Make Bad Art, I feel like I have a better idea of how I want this project to go by doing the small steps and using the other tools from the course.
"Nancy taught me to incorporate those tools, and encouraged me to go ahead and be creative. Because when I'm creative, I'm in a happy space and that helps me deal with everything else.
"I would tell others who are considering Make Bad Art to be open to the possibilities. Don't limit yourself; just show up and be willing to participate. There aren’t any big, hard things to do in this class—they’re smaller activities, and there's a lot of encouragement from other people in the group."
— Emily, founding participant in Make Bad Art and member of the Follow Your Curiosity community
Hi, I'm Nancy Norbeck, a Master Certified Kaizen-Muse Creativity Coach, host of the Follow Your Curiosity podcast, and a fellow traveler on the road to recovery from perfectionism.
I didn't always know I was a perfectionist. When I was in Kaizen-Muse training, my training mentor asked me in one of our sessions if I was a perfectionist, and I confidently told her no. I was sure, because I, like many creative people, was not the kind of person who has to have everything in its place all the time. (I taught with a guy who was like that once, and I was always afraid I’d leave his stapler misaligned on his desk.)
She asked again if I was sure—if I ever got stuck because I didn’t think I had the right materials or tools. Nope, not me! A keyboard or pen and paper was all I needed.
She asked one more time: “Do you ever just not start projects because you’re sure you’ll never be able to do them well enough?”
I stopped breathing. That was me.
While I was actively creative, there were plenty of things I’d wanted to do that I’d cut myself off from, often not even fully consciously, because I knew I’d never be good enough at them to be worth the effort. So I never even tried. I never gave myself the chance to find out if I could have been good at them at all. I just decided I was already a failure instead. That’s a terrible thing to do to yourself.
I've also worked as a writing teacher at the secondary and post-secondary levels, and as a copy editor and proofreader.
I know what it's like to have a job that requires an exacting level of perfection, even when I personally don't care whether every quotation mark is curly or not, and to catch hell if I missed one of them—and to have to pretend to be someone I'm not every day because the management is drenched in toxic positivity and only wants smiley, happy people in their office.
When I got the idea for my podcast, Follow Your Curiosity, I thought it would be interesting to hear people’s creative stories and get them in front of a wider audience. I wasn’t sure anyone would listen to it, but I was curious enough to give it a whirl for my own interest.
I didn’t expect my podcast to be the creative outlet that saved me. I didn’t know it would remind me of who I was and who I could be. But it became a source of pride, joy, and meaning that nobody could take from me—an absolute lifeline when I needed it the most.
That’s why I created Make Bad Art: to help others trapped in the cycle of perfectionism and pretense to rediscover and reclaim their own creativity—that part of themselves that no one can take away—so they can come back to life again.
I especially wanted to create a place where folks could do this work in community, because trying to counter perfectionism can be really tough in a world that keeps telling you all your troubles will be over if you're just perfect enough—if you finally attain that pinnacle of achievement you see on TV and Instagram. It’s so much easier to make these changes when you know you’re not alone.
In Make Bad Art, you’ll regain your freedom. You’ll also find that the more you surrender control and align deliberately with imperfection, the easier it is to find creative flow and a greater sense of play.
Let’s look first at a few things you will lose when you loosen the grip perfectionism has on you (effects vary per person, as we each engage with the process in our own way):
And here are some things you gain to replace them:
But I am pretty sure you’ll find that the biggest thing you’ll reclaim in Make Bad Art is yourself. The imperfect, carefree, clever, curious, adventurous, daring, open, courageous, playful, wonderful, wild, soul you’ve always been, but forgot you were.
“Make Bad Art was such an amazing experience that changed how I approach play as a grown up. I am a lot more willing to make mistakes and let that be a part of the process. Before, I would let it stop me from moving forward in the process.”
"As a practitioner of Breathwork and Compassion Key, I've been in the industry of life coaching, online coaching, self improvement and human transformation for three decades. Nancy has an amazing ability to create spaces of exploration in the area of play that are fresh, fun, and unique to what adults grapple with when it comes to discovering play time—and all of the guilt, shame, and dismissal we can sometimes, unknowingly, carry when it comes to that subject.
"I mean, as one who didn't play much as a youngster, the science behind perfectionism was a game changer! I had no idea of all of the scientific research and discovery in this area of self transformation and personal growth for adults and how perfectionism can have negative impacts on achieving success in life.
"Thank you, Nancy, for doing your sacred work and being a relentless stand for what's possible in the realm of play and fun at any age!
"I just used the tiny steps process with my 19-year-old nephew this morning because I took your Make Bad Art course. I was able to recognize a familiar procrastination behavior pattern that showed up in his action, or non-action, and share with him an easier way to play with something he's been putting off, to help him get started without making him bad, wrong, or broken.
"I love that I have an arsenal of ways to play that are inspiring, motivating and easy to do!
"Permission to play and making bad art, ACTIVATED!”
—Angela R. Smith, Founder of Root Cause Breathwork, Certified Compassion Key Practitioner and Breathwork Practitioner
The next cohort of Make Bad Art kicks off on Thursday, March 27, 2025.
You are invited to stop contorting yourself and reclaim your wildly imperfect inner kid.
$597 unlocks the door to freedom, inspiration, compassion, kindness, and play.
Think about it:
What's the cost of staying stuck in the cycle of perfectionism, missing out on the joy and fulfillment of creative expression and play?
What's the value of reclaiming your time, energy, and confidence to pursue your passions without fear of judgment?
What's it worth to finally silence that inner critic and embrace your authentic creative self—and improve your relationships with yourself and others at the same time?
As a fellow recovering perfectionist, I know firsthand the traps perfectionism can lead us into and the pain it can cause. As a Master Certified Kaizen-Muse Creativity Coach, I’m also armed with the tools and personal experience to break that cycle and lead you back to fun, play, wonder, and self-acceptance.
The first ten people to sign up will also receive a copy of my Creative Tune-Up Kit and a 30-minute 1:1 coaching session with me.
Sessions will be held over Zoom from 7-9 pm Eastern Time*:
March 27
April 3
April 10
April 17
April 24
May 1
*7-9 pm Eastern Time: 4-6 pm Pacific, 9-11 am Brisbane
You will get:
The first ten people to sign up will also receive a copy of my Creative Tune-Up Kit and a 30-minute 1:1 coaching session with me.
If you genuinely believe you’re not creative, then I’m very sorry to tell you that someone lied to you. Every single human being is creative in some way. It may or may not be a way that is generally recognized as creative (creativity is not limited to the arts!).
Your creativity may be in cooking, decorating, problem solving, software development, woodworking, or any number of other areas. You may love to sing in the shower but not be willing to sing for anyone else. Maybe you like to build elaborate Lego landscapes. It may be some other quirky thing that you think other people will think is weird.
Or maybe there’s something you’ve always wanted to try, but haven’t been brave enough to do yet. Make Bad Art is the perfect, safe place to explore that dream in a gentle, easy way.
You only need to believe in your own creative self and your dream to begin.
You’ll need two hours for our class time, and 5-10 minutes a day on your own, plus whatever time you want to spend checking into the online community. If you can or want to carve out more time, that’s great, and if you miss some days, that’s fine, too (you’re not aiming for perfection here, remember?).
You can expect to meet new friends—and accomplices—in the fight against cultural perfectionism, and allies as you reclaim your true self.
You can expect increased awareness of your tendencies around perfectionism, plus tools and tips to interact with them differently.
You can expect to start taking yourself and these quirks more lightly as you begin to see them not as part of you but as something you put on, like a costume, in response to the expectation of others.
You can expect to start treating yourself with more compassion and less judgment as you let go of all those external expectations.
And you can expect to create more freely, and have more fun in the process, than you have since you were a kid—and reclaim the same kind of playful openness and creative excitement you had back then, too.
There’s literally no way to fail at making bad art except not to do it. Even if all you have to work with is a paper clip and an old envelope, if you’re willing to experiment with them in the spirit of making something bad, by definition, you will succeed. The bar here is extremely low, and it’s low for a reason—because it works. This is where trusting the process comes in, and in trusting the process, you’ll also learn to trust yourself. Cool, huh?
Yes! There is an option to pay in two monthly payments built into the signup below. That said, I want everyone who wants to Make Bad Art to be able to, so if you need something different, I’m happy to set up a plan that works for you. Get in touch and we’ll make it happen! (You're not bothering me or wasting my time—I promise! I want to hear from you so I can make this work for you!)
Not a problem! Let's connect and I’ll do my best to answer them.
With Make Bad Art, you'll receive:
In just six weeks, you'll loosen the grip of perfectionism and transform your relationship with creativity—and yourself—so you can relax, create more freely, judge yourself (and others!) less, and enjoy your life more.
Ready to ditch perfectionism and say hello to freedom, inspiration, kindness, and play?
Click the button below to enroll in Make Bad Art.
You'll receive a confirmation email, and I'll be in touch soon with everything you need to prepare for our first session.
Sign up today and give yourself permission to relax, play, and have fun again.
Yours in imperfection and creative courage,
Nancy Norbeck
Master Certified Kaizen-Muse Creativity Coach
Host, Follow Your Curiosity Podcast
Nancy Norbeck © 2025 All rights reserved