Last year at Handworks, I bought a spoon from Jarrod Stone Dahl, a craftsman whose work I admire immensely. I’d watched his work and read his great blog for a few years, had never met him.
He had one spoon left, and I asked him if he’d be willing to add a small design of his I liked to the spoon.
“Nope,” he replied.
No apology, no explanation, no animosity, no shrug. Just nope.
He jumped about five notches in my estimation. Here’s why:
I have no idea why he refused – maybe he didn’t have time, or didn’t want to sharpen a tool. Maybe he needed some coffee or a sandwich. Maybe he just didn’t feel like doing it at that moment. Maybe he didn’t like my face.
My impression at the moment, though, was that he thought it was a bad idea. And that it was a bad idea for a reason that I probably wasn’t in a position to understand, and it just wasn’t worth trying to explain it. So he just said no.
Whether I’m right about the reasoning or not is beside the point, really – the guy knows wooden spoons as well as just about anyone on this continent, anyway. I know what I’ve seen online and in books and at craft events. There’s no comparison in our understanding.
So I took it as evidence that he wasn’t remotely interested in compromising what he thought his work was about for anyone. Not for money, not to be liked, not to be polite, and not to be understood.
Bravo.
I didn’t ask why. I think I just smirked and said something like ‘hell yeah’ or ‘fair enough.’
Because if you devote yourself completely to something – anything – for a few thousand hours, sooner or later you realize that nobody who hasn’t done those hours see it the way you do, and there’s no point trying to explain it to them. It’s about putting in the time to ‘see’ it properly.
I wish there was a better term for what I’m talking about, but the correct term is tacit knowledge.
Recently I bought a mug from him as well. He’s been developing skills on a pole lathe – and exploring some of the fascinating things you can do with a reciprocating lathe that a normal powered lathe cannot do. Such as turning cups with a handle, like mine (shown at top, with the infamous spoon).
I love this mug – as you can tell from the extraordinary sheen of grime it’s developing from being in my greasy, dirty, working hands all the time. I think it’s gorgeous, and for all the same reasons I discussed in this post on Seth Gould. It’s a classic example of tacit skill, and there’s no way to fake that. Not at all.
But I’m only able to scratch the surface of ‘seeing’ these pieces. I’ve looked at and touched these mugs, and I watched some videos on how he makes them – I get the theory of them just fine. All the cheap knowledge there is about them – I got that. But the deep knowing – The skills, the eyes, the hands, the real understanding: I’m not getting that unless I spend the time to develop it.
My mug’s a fairly early one when he was developing the form. Here’s a picture of a much more recent mug. According to Jarrod, these are a ‘sweeter shape’ and more refined and subtle, and he likes them much more. Personally, I can see some differences certainly – in the fullness of the curves, the waist, the delicacy – but I’m not sure I would see one as better than the other.
But I have no problem taking his word for it, and no doubt that if I spent a few hundred hours making these I’d agree with him. He’s done the work, developed the skills, and learned to see in ways I haven’t.
I didn’t ask him to explain it to me any more than that. How could he?
This post is first step into some sketchy territory. I’ve been thinking, reading, ranting, talking, and scribbling furiously about things related to this for a few years now, and I’m going to take a stab at spitting some of it out on the blog.
But in all seriousness – if you’re anti-meta, if you’re a reader isn’t interested in thinking about making, and wants to see pictures of planes or tools or whatever – you might want to skip these posts. Only getting deeper from here.
when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
Thomas Goebel says
I like yours words that express inner feelings that many of experience but cannot express. After reading I say to myself….yeah that’s how I feel. So please keep the words coming to give meaning to my own inexpressible thoughts.
Chris Brennan says
Raney,
Not knowing what you’ve been reading I’ll offer a few books that are great for getting at this.
Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience (Harper Perennial Modern by Mihaly Csiksgentmihalyi
Subliminal: How Your Unconscious Mind Rules Your Behavior by Leonard Mlodinow
Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell
then search for K. Anders Ericsson in Google Scholar and dig into his work on expert performance.
I’ve written and taught about skill acquisition, expert performance, and decision-making for a decade now, it’s fascinating stuff. Enjoy the journey!
[email protected] says
Hey Chris,
Thanks for the recommendations – I’m marginally aware of all three, but haven’t really climbed into them recently. Ericsson is doing some fascinating stuff, and I’ve gone through two or three of his papers over the years – to be honest, though, I’m usually turned off by the way he’s generally picked up in culture: by business gurus, and education reformists; neither of those groups seem to have much rigor about their ‘interpretations’ and I usually see him referenced in support of some political or business agenda or other. Still – that doesnt really reflect on his work itself, so I think I should probably look at him a little more systematically
Ive read a couple of Gladwell’s books – I read part of Outliers but don’t remember if I finished it or not. I’ll pull it out again. Ditto with Flow – though that one I haven’t really thought about in at least 20 years. I do remember the flurry of commentary and BIG IDEA sellers it set off, but don’t remember if I read it, skimmed it, or just read lots about it.
Good stuff – Thanks!