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There is not one of us who does not like being juried into a show or winning an award for our art. It is, of course, a validation that what we do is appreciated by someone else. Making art is primarily a solitary profession, and we all like to be recognized by others at some point in our careers. Entering juried shows and possibly winning an award is a path to acknowledgment and increased recognition. But we need to remember that judging art is not a science. We do not all see the same information in the same way. While there are certainly many areas of agreement, there are also areas for polite disagreement.
 
"We do not see things as they are, we see them as we are."
from Seduction of the Minotaur by Anais Nin, 1961

There is also a downside to picking the "best" paintings in any category. The perception becomes one of better or worse, right or wrong, and, unfortunately, winners and losers. There really is no right or wrong in the creation of any art. Yes, some paintings are more interesting and more well done than others and there are certainly guidelines for judging paintings such as design, values, color, unity, etc., but there are also many variables that are not easily quantified. There is no scoreboard. And we should never ignore the fact that we usually like what we know.
 
Realist painting has its own set of parameters and the myth of mastery, unfortunately, is one of them. We are inclined to value skill and technique over expression. But skill and technique without creativity and personal expression is just more boring art that happens to be well done. We end up with mediocre shows and paintings that have such a narrow range of expectation that everything starts to look alike. When we make judgments, collectively or as individuals, about what is acceptable or not, what is good or not, and what realism is or is not, we end up narrowing the possibilities of what painting is and could be.

In an interview titled "The Charcoal Heads," Frank Auerbach said, "I think I couldn't bear my life without working. Now for one thing, once I've got a brush in my hand, and I've been doing it for 76 years or something ridiculous, it's infinitely amusing and entertaining. You would think that I don't know how to do it. The things that appear on the canvas are always surprising - 999 times out of a thousand they're totally inadequate (so I) try and go on and make them better because one's so ashamed of what one's done. One works out of dissatisfaction and the actual game and there's so many considerations, they're endless. The material itself plays up, the colors do funny things, you notice new configurations, new idioms, it's just - it's infinite."

As James Corse wrote in the book Finite and Infinite Games: A Vision of Life as Play and Possibility, "Finite games are the familiar contests of everyday life; they are played in order to be won, which is when they end. But infinite games are more mysterious. Their object is not winning but ensuring the continuation of play . . . Finite games can be played within an infinite game, but an infinite game cannot be played within a finite game. Infinite players regard their wins and losses in whatever finite games they play as but moments in continuing play."