When I took my portfolio to my first review at Maryland Institute, College of Art six years ago, I got ripped a new one. I didn't talk to my father when he picked me up afterward. When we got home, I went to sleep, miserable.
But when I woke up (from what may have actually been more of a stupor), I started working on all of my pieces again. I finished them, to the best of my abilities, and submitted it several months later. I got in.*
Nothing I make is ever finished anymore. But I'm constantly seeking to improve my work. If this time didn't go well, there's always next time.
And that's what keeps me alive.
* - Now I owe several tens of thousands of dollars. :)
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