The Philosophy Of Process Versus Product
(Or: Why Your Masterpiece Is Never The Point, and The Real Art Is the Bloody, Beautiful Grind)
Let’s knock the gallery dust off this conversation—right now. The world is crammed with “finished” art that nobody feels and “process” porn that’s just an excuse to stall. If you’re reading this, you’ve probably asked yourself: does what I make matter more than how I make it? Is the product king? Or is it all about the journey—smudged hands, sleepless nights, half-finished canvases, the ugly drafts, the epic screw-ups, and the moments when the magic comes and goes as it pleases?
Here’s the raw, unvarnished truth: both are a lie. And both are everything. The real artist, the kind who leaves a mark worth caring about, lives in the tension between process and product—never satisfied, always in motion, and always, always hungry for more.
Let’s dig deep into the grit, the grind, and the dirty philosophy that keeps you painting, writing, cooking, or making noise even when you know perfection is a scam and completion is just the start of the next mess.
1. The Process Fetish: Why We Worship The Grind (Even When It Hurts)
We love the idea of “process.” It’s the artist’s confessional—the videos of paint smears, scribbles, endless revisions, time-lapses of raw chaos resolving into beauty. We fetishize the ugly beginning because it makes the genius look accidental and the finished thing seem possible.
Why Process Matters:
Truth lives here: The mistakes, the pivots, the wild detours, and the daily discipline.
Growth happens here: If you’re not learning or failing, you’re just photocopying your own mediocrity.
Real joy is messy: That lost-in-the-zone trance, the sudden left turns, the happy accident that makes the whole thing sing.
Personal confession:
The best moments I’ve had as an artist, a writer, a half-assed musician—were all during the making, never at the finish line. The act itself is the addiction. The final product is just a trophy on the pile.
2. The Product Obsession: Why We Crave the Finish Line (And Why It’s Never Enough)
Let’s not kid ourselves. We want results. We want books on the shelf, paintings on the wall, songs in the air, food in someone’s belly. We want proof that all the hours, tears, and weird stains on our jeans meant something.
Why Product Matters:
It’s how we share: Nobody hangs a process. They hang a painting. They read the damn book.
It pays the bills: If you’re a starving artist, “journey, not destination” doesn’t buy ramen.
It tests your nerve: The product is the stand—you finish it, sign it, ship it, and let it get torn apart or loved by strangers.
Dirty reality:
If you never finish, you’re just a hobbyist with commitment issues. Process is great, but product is proof you showed up and did the work.
3. Where Process And Product Get Twisted (And How To Survive The Mess)
Here’s where most creative people get chewed up:
Stuck in the process: They revise, tweak, start over, chase “perfect,” and never let go. They’re addicted to becoming, terrified of being judged.
Obsessed with the product: They rush, skip the sweat, bang out something “done,” and wonder why it feels hollow.
Survival Strategy:
Dance between the two: Use process to discover and product to declare. Trust the mess, but finish the damn thing.
Ingredient hack:
Set deadlines, but build in “play” time. Tell yourself, “I’m going to screw around for an hour, then make a decision and commit.” No take-backs, no erasers, just forward motion.
4. Step-by-Step: How To Balance Process and Product Without Losing Your Mind
A. Start With Chaos, End With Clarity
Let your first draft, sketch, or cook-up be wild. No rules, no expectations.
Edit, refine, clarify—sift the gold from the silt.
Know when to walk away. A work is never “finished,” only abandoned.
B. Use Rituals—But Burn Them Down When They Stop Working
Have your favorite brush, pen, playlist, or recipe.
When the process becomes stale, upend it—paint with your wrong hand, write at midnight, cook with only what’s left in the fridge.
C. Finish Ugly—Then Beautify
Get the bones down fast.
Flesh it out.
Pretty up the corpse later—don’t let fear of ugly stop you.
D. Document The Process—But Don’t Worship It
Take progress pics, write notes, keep scraps.
Share if you want, but don’t perform for the camera. This is for you.
E. Ship the Work—Ready or Not
“Good enough” beats “maybe someday” every time.
Let the world see it. Take the punch. Move on to the next.
5. Ingredient Hacks For Finding Joy In Both Sides
Playlist roulette: Let music steer your mood—shuffle something new every day.
Time limits: Force yourself to finish a piece in one sitting, then another over a week. See what the pressure does.
Collaborate: Trade half-finished work with a friend and complete each other’s mess.
Embrace destruction: If a piece sucks, rip it up, paint over, start new. Sometimes killing your darling is the only way to resurrect something better.
6. Philosophy from the Trenches: Confessions and Contradictions
I’ve spent weeks lost in process, and other times, slapped out a painting in two hours that sold before the paint dried.
I’ve cried over work that never saw daylight, and laughed at “throwaway” pieces that got me published.
The truth? The process is what you remember, but the product is what survives.
Art is a living contradiction—becoming and being, creation and completion, the grind and the gift. You can’t have one without the other, and if you try, you’ll die bored or unfinished.
7. The Final Dare: Make Your Process a Playground, Your Product a Trophy
Don’t let anyone tell you which matters more. The process is your wild, messy lover; the product is your proudest child. You need both. Chase the thrill of making, but finish what you start.
Learn from the grind, then let it go. Put the work in the world. Start again.
Because in the end, your art is not what you finish.
It’s the trail of chaos, beauty, failure, and risk you leave behind.
So make, finish, repeat—
and let the world see the scars.