Talent, Ability, Skill, Determination or Luck?

What happens tomorrow morning before dawn will determine the world champion in two of my favorite sports: chess and F1 racing.

I cannot imagine two sports more different than playing chess and racing the most complex automobiles on the planet.  In chess two men sit a few feet apart in absolute silence, sometimes for minutes and sometimes for a half hour, without moving a muscle.  Thinking.  Pure thought.  Anticipating future moves and working out in your head all the options for victory.  The two who are playing what will be probably their last match tomorrow are two of the most talented individuals in their sport the world has ever seen.

At the same time that they are playing chess, two other men will be racing the last race of the season in F1.  They are nearly equal in points after 18 races, and whoever crosses the line first will be champion.  Their sport involves split second decisions, the highest degree of technology, a large team of skilled helpers and tons of money.  They sit in the cockpit of a machine which is moving at 200 miles an hour, sweating in 140 degree heat, with an engine a few inches behind their head screaming at many thousands of revolutions per minute.  For two hours they must focus on the race, where a second gained or lost will determine if they finish first, or perhaps last.

I will be watching the chess match on my computer and the race on the television.  I can tell you that it will take more than a little bit of concentration on my part to keep up.

I have been thinking lately about what makes a "master" of any craft, whether it's playing chess, racing a car, or just restoring a valuable object from centuries ago.  Of course, while I do play chess often, and like to drive my car fast, I am not a "master" of either of these skills.  That doesn't mean I can not appreciate the subtleties of those professions.  In the same way, I regard the methods I use in my profession with my full attention and experience to guarantee a professional result.

I enjoy working on early furniture since all the experience you need to do the job properly is right in front of you.  All you need is a keen sense of observation.  Basically it is a question of simple forensics.  Look for the clues and you will understand what you need to do.  Traditional construction methods, hand tool marks, layout lines, hardware decisions and everything else is important and must be analyzed.   In the same way traditional upholstery is predictable and you can learn this skill by carefully taking apart the work and putting it back together using the same process.

I recently completed a large amount of traditional upholstery projects and was thinking about what makes a good upholsterer.  One word came to mind: tension.  When stretching the webbing, or tying the springs, or stitching the horsehair or tacking the silk cover, the single constant was understand the proper tension.  This is why it helps to have large "meathook" hands, like I have.  (They also are "handy" for sanding!)

In applying a "period" finish or making repairs, there is another rule I follow: natural wood is not one color.  Many refinishers make the mistake of using only one color for wood.  The only way I have found to fool the eye into thinking that the finish was original is to use several colors, carefully layered or in different areas on the object.  Natural sunlight fades wood, and the surfaces fade differently.  Nothing makes a piece look "new" more than having a uniform finish on all surfaces.  I know this sounds counter intuitive, but trust me, it really makes a difference.

The same concept works with making hand made furniture.  I do not think that there is anything sacred about 90 degrees or straight lines.  If the door opens and closes, or the drawer slides in and out, fine.  I am not saying I am careless.  I am saying that there is a priority to decision making when putting a piece of furniture together.  It needs to function and be sturdy and attractive.  It does not need to be perfect.  A drawer is not a piston in a cylinder.  It does not need to hold compression during an explosion.  It just needs to open and close.

Look at the Parthenon in Greece.  The columns are not exactly vertical.  If they were, they would be predictable and boring.  Would we be as interested in the tower in Pisa if it wasn't leaning?  (Perhaps not the best example, but I couldn't resist.)

I guess what I am trying to get at is that you spend your life observing phenomena, and if you are intelligent, constantly learning from that experience, gaining a proficiency in some form of activity.  By learning what is important and what is not critical, you can do a job quickly and effectively and with a high degree of satisfaction.  In fact, others will pay you to do that job, once you have proven your talents in that field.  Satisfied customers are the best publicity.

I have been fortunate to have had people pay me to restore furniture for over 45 years.  Now if I could only get Mercedes to sponsor me.......

The Philosophy of Work

Work is an interesting concept. I am sure that the concept of "earning a living" evolved so long ago that it has been accepted by all civilized countries as a way of life. There are those who are born so rich they never have to "work" and those who are so poor that "work" involves simply staying alive day to day. But the majority of us humans spend the majority of our life "working".

I am neither rich or poor, but I received my last paycheck in 1973, when I walked away from a promising career in physics earning a salary of $10,000. I immediately devoted all my energy to my passion of restoring antiques and noticed that my friends and clients were always remarking that "I was lucky to be able to do something that I loved for a living." I thought it strange that not everyone loved their "work".

When I left the world of high energy physics I was searching for something to do with my life that was completely different. I ended up as a pre industrial woodworker. It seems odd to some people, but to me it was a natural concept to abandon all aspects of the Industrial Revolution and adapt to a lifestyle where human effort is substituted for technology.

I studied the writings of Christopher Pye, an English wood turner, who wrote extensively on the relationship of Man and Work and Machines. I studied the concept of Form Follows Function, and all the progress made since 1800 in making our lives "easier." It can be argued that our lives are easier, but I began to ask the question, "Is it more rewarding?"

Eventually, after many decades working by hand at the bench, walking to work, living without machinery, I wrote the paper, "Form Follows Process." You may review it on my website. It was written for the journal of the Society of Period Furniture Makers. I think it explains why my activities at the bench are so satisfying, even after 40 years of effort.

Essentially, the "workmanship of risk" and the "workmanship of certainty" concepts proposed by Pye are essential points to consider in the evaluation of modern work and the satisfaction of the workers. Ask yourself, why is it that most workers hate going to work on Monday and look forward to the weekend, when they can do "what they really want to do?" Where is the pride of work and the satisfaction of a job well done? Why all the stress and emotional struggle for happiness?

In simplistic terms, look at the relationship between the worker and his work. Before the Industrial Revolution, where the workmanship of risk was normal, a worker learned to master his tools and take risks with the work. Learning from his failure, he was able to apply his skills over time to become a "Master" in his trade, simply by controlling the tools better. In this period, the worker held the tool in his hand, and it became a direct extension of his mind and body. He manipulated the tool against the work, and with increasing skill, overcame the risks of failure. The direct result is pride of work and accomplishment.

During the Industrial Revolution machinery was invented which allowed the workmanship of certainty. That means that the machine eliminated the risk, and guaranteed a reliable result with precision every time. To produce a better result meant purchasing a better (and more costly) machine. Thus the consumer market of the middle class was created, always chasing the new and improved tool for easier living. In this period the worker feeds the machine, literally. He pushes the work against the machine and the machine is the Master. There is no pride in the work; there is pride in owning the best machine.

As a result the workers leave work every day feeling unfulfilled and empty. This is how I felt when I left the physics lab at the end of the day, and why I love my profession so much today. I hate to quit "work" and I enjoy spending time in my workshop every day, 7 days a week. I feel out of sorts when I am away from the bench. For me the process of life is rewarding and challenging at the same time. The fact that it is challenging is the reason it is so rewarding.

May the Process be with you.