This only moderately fine reader of Aargh!: It's interesting reading, this ... a glimpse into a world I know little about, having plowed a rather peculiar and solitary furrow myself. It sounds fun! even though I imagine I would be quite unsuited to that line of work. Or would I? I remember ... one of my earliest flats I rented from a marketing guy/ad-man/copywriter(?) We got along very well; he was an interesting man with a lively mind. Two rooms, kitchen & bath ... live-in girlfriend and two black kittens, first year at furniture-maker school ... young, dumb and full of spunk and bravado. Heh! How foolish aren't the young ... and how invincible!
I think many craftsmen would profit (literally) from being better at marketing. It's an age-old gripe and grumble; In Bergen (a rain-sodden hell-hole west of the mountains) the furniture restorers / conservationists(?) at a musem found a 'letter to the future' hidden inside a huge, old baroque cupboard by the local craftsman who built it. In his note from the late 17th century, he describes his pitifully penurious state of living, how many hours he has put into the (truly magnificent) richly decorated and imposing piece of furniture, and how meager his wages. He curses his Master for pocketing most of the profits from the sale, and encourages patrons to buy directly from independent craftsmen. I have also heard of a very similar complaint lodged by a pair of German woodworking brothers at roughly the same time, and even Roubo himself (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andr%C3%A9_Jacob_Roubo) mentions this conflict of interest in his Magnum Opus (if I remember right). It was a time of upheaval and revolution, just like ours :-)
While I have great sympathy for the above-mentioned sentiment, I think it ignores some basic differences in human psychology / psychic typology(?): a craftsman/tradesman and a salesman need different mental traits to succeed. I won't wade too far into the quagmire of stereotypes, but a craftsman benefits from a certain plodding, patient, conscientious mindset, not devoid of invention and finesse - far from it! - but essentially focused, solitary, literally process- & thing-oriented, mechanically minded ... In short: not really the makings of a convincing salesman (I imagine).
Me? Oh... I can be quite charming when I want to, but I usually don't want to. Most people bore me with their little social schemes and posturings, and then I become annoyed and begin playing mind-games with them and they don't like that, or me, as a result. I don't have many friends; I'm best suited to a solitary life making things in a workshop. Amor fati!
I work mostly for a company of carpenters who've specialized in restoration-work, so it's B2B (see! I know the jargon, David!) and that's probably a good thing; they're used to ornery gits like me :-)
Well, I'm impressed! Therein is a fine encapsulation of craftsmanship and that's very much of interest because, soon, I'll be riffing on one of Olaf Hermans' concepts which is that there is a particular power when Craftsmanship, Parenthood and Ownership are brought together. I'll refer back to your notes at that point. And I'd never before heard of M. Roubo so I'm most grateful for that.
Apropos your comment about being an only moderately fine reader of Aargh! I very much go along with the sentiment of John Steinbeck at the opening of his novella, Cannery Row:
"Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream. ... Its inhabitants are, as the man once said, "whores, pimps, gamblers and sons of bitches," by which he meant Everybody. Had the man looked through another peep-hole he might have said: "Saints and angels and martyrs and holy men," and he would have meant the same thing."
Ipso facto, all readers of Aargh! are, without exception, FINE people.
This only moderately fine reader of Aargh!: It's interesting reading, this ... a glimpse into a world I know little about, having plowed a rather peculiar and solitary furrow myself. It sounds fun! even though I imagine I would be quite unsuited to that line of work. Or would I? I remember ... one of my earliest flats I rented from a marketing guy/ad-man/copywriter(?) We got along very well; he was an interesting man with a lively mind. Two rooms, kitchen & bath ... live-in girlfriend and two black kittens, first year at furniture-maker school ... young, dumb and full of spunk and bravado. Heh! How foolish aren't the young ... and how invincible!
I think many craftsmen would profit (literally) from being better at marketing. It's an age-old gripe and grumble; In Bergen (a rain-sodden hell-hole west of the mountains) the furniture restorers / conservationists(?) at a musem found a 'letter to the future' hidden inside a huge, old baroque cupboard by the local craftsman who built it. In his note from the late 17th century, he describes his pitifully penurious state of living, how many hours he has put into the (truly magnificent) richly decorated and imposing piece of furniture, and how meager his wages. He curses his Master for pocketing most of the profits from the sale, and encourages patrons to buy directly from independent craftsmen. I have also heard of a very similar complaint lodged by a pair of German woodworking brothers at roughly the same time, and even Roubo himself (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andr%C3%A9_Jacob_Roubo) mentions this conflict of interest in his Magnum Opus (if I remember right). It was a time of upheaval and revolution, just like ours :-)
While I have great sympathy for the above-mentioned sentiment, I think it ignores some basic differences in human psychology / psychic typology(?): a craftsman/tradesman and a salesman need different mental traits to succeed. I won't wade too far into the quagmire of stereotypes, but a craftsman benefits from a certain plodding, patient, conscientious mindset, not devoid of invention and finesse - far from it! - but essentially focused, solitary, literally process- & thing-oriented, mechanically minded ... In short: not really the makings of a convincing salesman (I imagine).
Me? Oh... I can be quite charming when I want to, but I usually don't want to. Most people bore me with their little social schemes and posturings, and then I become annoyed and begin playing mind-games with them and they don't like that, or me, as a result. I don't have many friends; I'm best suited to a solitary life making things in a workshop. Amor fati!
I work mostly for a company of carpenters who've specialized in restoration-work, so it's B2B (see! I know the jargon, David!) and that's probably a good thing; they're used to ornery gits like me :-)
Well, I'm impressed! Therein is a fine encapsulation of craftsmanship and that's very much of interest because, soon, I'll be riffing on one of Olaf Hermans' concepts which is that there is a particular power when Craftsmanship, Parenthood and Ownership are brought together. I'll refer back to your notes at that point. And I'd never before heard of M. Roubo so I'm most grateful for that.
Apropos your comment about being an only moderately fine reader of Aargh! I very much go along with the sentiment of John Steinbeck at the opening of his novella, Cannery Row:
"Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream. ... Its inhabitants are, as the man once said, "whores, pimps, gamblers and sons of bitches," by which he meant Everybody. Had the man looked through another peep-hole he might have said: "Saints and angels and martyrs and holy men," and he would have meant the same thing."
Ipso facto, all readers of Aargh! are, without exception, FINE people.
Haha! Here's to old Steinbeck, and to you!