You know what? Being finished is enough for me these days.
I leave the world to decide what it feels about my work. My job is to make it and get it out there. I give it my best while it's in progress, but then when it's done, a feeling of detachment sets in.
This detachment is a metamorphosis in itself from the perfectionist, non-completing person I used to be, and there's peace in it.
I've finally learned to accept that my work will never be 'perfect'. That it will never fulfil all the expectations I had for it. And that's ok. Because if I'd already reached art nirvana there wouldn't be a reason to keep on making more.
I'm already thinking about the next piece of work.