The dictatorship of perfection is over: Why your "mistakes" are worth their weight in gold

For years, the rule on social media was simple: only show the beautiful.

An artist's Instagram feed used to resemble an immaculate art gallery: luminous photos, a perfectly tidy studio, clean hands, and sublime, finished works. They were selling a dream. They were selling the idea that creation was a smooth, flowing process.

In 2026, this strategy no longer works. Worse, it hurts your sales.

Why? Because the public is saturated. Saturated with filters, saturated with staged scenes, and above all, saturated with perfect images generated by artificial intelligence in three seconds.

Welcome to the era of Radical Transparency.

Mistakes are the only proof of humanity.

Showing a pot that collapses on the wheel, a seam that comes undone, or a scribbled-out drawing is proof that you exist. It's proof that there's sweat, time, and frustration behind your work.

That's what we call perceived value. If I only see the final result, I see an object. If I see the difficulty in achieving it, I see an epic journey. And I'm willing to pay more to own the outcome of that struggle.

The "Bloopers" sells

Look at current trends on TikTok or Reels. The most viral videos aren't of finished products. They're chaotic "process videos."

It's the woodworker swearing because his wood has split.

The painter covering her canvas with white paint because she hates what she just did.

It's the messy workshop, with coffee cups lying around and dust everywhere.

This vulnerability creates an immediate bond of trust. The customer thinks:

"I know this person. She's like me. She doesn't lie to me."

At Le Socle, we love organized chaos

This is a philosophy we strongly encourage in our accelerator program. At Atelier A, we don't want our artists to live the high life.

In our marketing coaching sessions, we often repeat:

Your story is your best product.

And a good story needs twists and turns. If everything is easy, there's no story.

So, the next time your ceramic kiln explodes or your nail polish blisters, don't cry (or at least, not for too long). Take out your phone. Film it. Tell the story.

Show your scars. That's where the light comes in. And that's often where the customers come in, too.