Publisher’s note: Good morning and welcome to Earlywood, a free excerpt from one of the thousands of pieces I’ve written since 1996. Sometimes, it originally appeared in a magazine article. Or in a book. Or, in this case, a blog post from 2010. Each entry has been updated or annotated with some modern context or point of view. We hope you enjoy it.
I always shoot for perfect, and I always miss a little. No matter how hard you try to make things right stuff happens and it comes up a little short. If I did not shoot for as good as I can do, my work would be fire pit fuel. Most people don’t notice my mistakes (or are too polite to see them). But sometimes my mistakes are all I can see. The good news is that there are now fewer of them. Experience is what you have right after you needed it. I am getting more and more experience. It’s a good thing.
I love that you have a daughter who understands how to do the best work. I too have such a brilliant daughter who became a chemical engineer and the mother of the most extraordinary granddaughter ever on the face of the earth.
Perfection is unachievable, it’s an abstraction, a moving target and anyway only a mental construct. It unleashes the harsh inner critic or at least an unworthy desire to be praised for our efforts.
These days I’m happy to strive for excellence. I don’t bother to hide my mistakes these days. The opportunity they allow for humility to be embraced is too valuable to waste.
In some of your other posts you talked about how to correct mistakes. I appreciate how you were educating your daughter, but one has to know when to move on and not get paralyzed in a do-loop of starting over. Hard topic and maybe something that gets taught after impressing the need to be as close to perfect as possible.
What you're referring to, Chris, is personal agency. That leads to both personal responsibility (knowing you can act and own your actions) and empathy (connection with others.)
i second this. without getting to deep the short answer is that teaching this sort of thing is a long process. the simplest method is modeling and immersion. as a parent you have the most control over environment of your children. as a short term teacher who only sees a student for a few days, the student has to create their own immersion after being inspired by you.
I think we should aim for perfection and make the best thing we can, but on the other hand we shouldn't let the pursuit of perfection stop us from making things.
I say, finish a project with the skills you have, and get it out the door so that it becomes something useful.
(One thing, however, that needs to be right is getting things square. When milling stock by hand or when assembling boxes and cabinets, I find it difficult to get things square every time, but it messes things up when it's off. I'm learning... )
I think that pursuit of perfection in woodworking is universal but attainment is tempered by skill and experience.
Cutting perfect dovetail joints, without gaps, is ideal. But truth be told, there are ways to fill gaps and research shows that imperfect dovetails are likely just as strong as perfect ones.
We should pursue perfection, but sometimes accept that our experience and skill is not sufficient —yet.
When I produce a piece I know every flaw, but often no one else will notice. I think your point about knowing how to fix the error is just as important in the craft as trying attain excellence.
Time flies. I remember reading this as a junior in college, went right over my head. Now my little girl is 3 and looking at the picture of adult Katherine makes my head swim.
My work is often paralyzed by perfectionism, and I recently had a similar, but opposite, experience. My 7-year-old has been asking for The Joiner and Cabinetmaker as his bedtime story the past few weeks. He was hooked when he heard that apprentices do a lot of the same tasks as him (glue, shavings, sweeping, etc).
We just got through the packing box, and he wanted to build it. I milled the parts while he did 80% of the assembly. The box had gaps, it wasn’t square, the ends hung over the bottom, and the top was crooked. He was so proud that he took it on an exhibition tour around the neighborhood. I remember clearly thinking, “I need to incorporate some of this non-perfectionism into my craft.” No doubt, I would’ve been more excited if he wanted the box to be perfect, but he taught me that curiosity and passion might be more foundational to a lifetime of craftsmanship.
The well worn phrase “ she’s a chip off the old bock “ applies well here. She is fortunate to have you as her dad. I bet she has picked up a ton of your good habits all on her own by observing you and your wife.
I’m 11 years old, helping my great uncle Hans plank a skiff he’s building for a fellow fisherman on Lake Superior. The piece of pine that’s been to the bench several times for planing to fit seems about right to me. But Uncle Hans stops me with words that echo 60+ years later, “Yust remember, perfect is good enough.”
I always shoot for perfect, and I always miss a little. No matter how hard you try to make things right stuff happens and it comes up a little short. If I did not shoot for as good as I can do, my work would be fire pit fuel. Most people don’t notice my mistakes (or are too polite to see them). But sometimes my mistakes are all I can see. The good news is that there are now fewer of them. Experience is what you have right after you needed it. I am getting more and more experience. It’s a good thing.
I love that you have a daughter who understands how to do the best work. I too have such a brilliant daughter who became a chemical engineer and the mother of the most extraordinary granddaughter ever on the face of the earth.
That hit me right in the feels.
Perfection is unachievable, it’s an abstraction, a moving target and anyway only a mental construct. It unleashes the harsh inner critic or at least an unworthy desire to be praised for our efforts.
These days I’m happy to strive for excellence. I don’t bother to hide my mistakes these days. The opportunity they allow for humility to be embraced is too valuable to waste.
How brighter than the noon-day sun it is to have a brilliant child.
Chris - you discovered true friendship with your daughter. Well done!
In some of your other posts you talked about how to correct mistakes. I appreciate how you were educating your daughter, but one has to know when to move on and not get paralyzed in a do-loop of starting over. Hard topic and maybe something that gets taught after impressing the need to be as close to perfect as possible.
What you're referring to, Chris, is personal agency. That leads to both personal responsibility (knowing you can act and own your actions) and empathy (connection with others.)
And actually, you might not be able to teach it (longer discussion). But you can create environments where people develop it. I do for a living. And believe it or not, you do, too, which is why I read your column. Here you go. https://empathy.guru/2018/07/05/empathy-and-child-rearing-lessons-from-my-life-and-the-movie-the-incredibles/
i second this. without getting to deep the short answer is that teaching this sort of thing is a long process. the simplest method is modeling and immersion. as a parent you have the most control over environment of your children. as a short term teacher who only sees a student for a few days, the student has to create their own immersion after being inspired by you.
I think we should aim for perfection and make the best thing we can, but on the other hand we shouldn't let the pursuit of perfection stop us from making things.
I say, finish a project with the skills you have, and get it out the door so that it becomes something useful.
(One thing, however, that needs to be right is getting things square. When milling stock by hand or when assembling boxes and cabinets, I find it difficult to get things square every time, but it messes things up when it's off. I'm learning... )
I think that pursuit of perfection in woodworking is universal but attainment is tempered by skill and experience.
Cutting perfect dovetail joints, without gaps, is ideal. But truth be told, there are ways to fill gaps and research shows that imperfect dovetails are likely just as strong as perfect ones.
We should pursue perfection, but sometimes accept that our experience and skill is not sufficient —yet.
When I produce a piece I know every flaw, but often no one else will notice. I think your point about knowing how to fix the error is just as important in the craft as trying attain excellence.
Time flies. I remember reading this as a junior in college, went right over my head. Now my little girl is 3 and looking at the picture of adult Katherine makes my head swim.
Well done, Dad.
My work is often paralyzed by perfectionism, and I recently had a similar, but opposite, experience. My 7-year-old has been asking for The Joiner and Cabinetmaker as his bedtime story the past few weeks. He was hooked when he heard that apprentices do a lot of the same tasks as him (glue, shavings, sweeping, etc).
We just got through the packing box, and he wanted to build it. I milled the parts while he did 80% of the assembly. The box had gaps, it wasn’t square, the ends hung over the bottom, and the top was crooked. He was so proud that he took it on an exhibition tour around the neighborhood. I remember clearly thinking, “I need to incorporate some of this non-perfectionism into my craft.” No doubt, I would’ve been more excited if he wanted the box to be perfect, but he taught me that curiosity and passion might be more foundational to a lifetime of craftsmanship.
I know this is a bit off-topic, but what’s the status on the “Principles of Design” book? I’ve been looking for it since Thursday…
I’m gonna post an update tomorrow. But it has been delayed at the printer for variety of mechanical problems.
The well worn phrase “ she’s a chip off the old bock “ applies well here. She is fortunate to have you as her dad. I bet she has picked up a ton of your good habits all on her own by observing you and your wife.
I’m 11 years old, helping my great uncle Hans plank a skiff he’s building for a fellow fisherman on Lake Superior. The piece of pine that’s been to the bench several times for planing to fit seems about right to me. But Uncle Hans stops me with words that echo 60+ years later, “Yust remember, perfect is good enough.”