When Quantity Creates Quality

Art has no finish line—every work, even on scratch paper, carries the truth that feelings can’t be measured, only lived.

The Misunderstood Mantra

People love to say, “Quality over quantity.” It sounds wise, especially in business or offices where mistakes cost money. But in art, that saying can kill your growth.

Artists don’t find quality by waiting for inspiration—they find it by showing up, again and again. Quantity is the grind that reveals the gold. Every sketch, draft, riff, or post is part of the training. It’s not about perfection—it’s about becoming.

In factories, quantity means output. In art, it means expression. Because in art, every piece has something to do with feelings—and feelings aren’t meant to be polished. Even mistakes can become part of the beauty. There are no wrong notes when they come from truth.

Mainstream musicians, for example, write and record thousands of songs a year. But the music label decides which ones “feel commercial.” If nothing fits the market, those songs stay locked away. Some artists wait years without a release—not because they stopped creating, but because the system measures quality by sales, not soul.

That’s where independent artists stand different. They release when they’re ready, not when the boardroom approves. They create freely, without filters, without compromise.

But now, the problem isn’t just with the artists—it’s with us, the listeners, the art lovers. We stopped listening deeply. We started streaming whatever the algorithm served. The corporate world learned that, and turned art into product. The more people obey the charts, the more real art fades into silence.

Because when feelings are no longer the measure, and numbers take over, music loses its soul—and we lose a part of ours too.

So the next time someone tells you to slow down, tell them this:

“You can’t create perfection before creation itself. You can’t edit what doesn’t exist.”

In the end, artists just keep creating—because emotion has no finish line. The only limit of feeling is death. Every work, even one drawn on scratch paper, is still art. Because art isn’t about where it hangs—it’s about who felt enough to make it.

⌨ ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

When Artists Fall Silent

There are moments when we stop creating—when the soul needs room to breathe again.

There are days when we stare at our work and feel nothing. No spark, no tune, no urge to create. We watch others make art and think, “They still have it.” Then we turn away and sit in the quiet.

Sometimes the soul just needs to breathe. We’ve given, we’ve felt, we’ve emptied ourselves onto too many canvases. Art isn’t a switch—it’s a heartbeat that slows down when it needs to heal.

No artist burns forever. Even silence has rhythm. Maybe the pause is part of the art—those hidden spaces where the spirit quietly refills. We’re not lost. We’re rebuilding.

And when the next wave comes, we’ll know it’s real again. Not forced. Not calculated. Just human.

That’s what International Artist Day (October 25) reminds us of: not the noise or the show, but the quiet courage to start creating again.

⌨ ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

An electronic instrumental album in 432 Hz centered on self-reflection and navigating the sentimental journey of contemplating life’s missed opportunities.

Listen on Apple Music, Apple Music Classical, and YouTube Music