“With wakened hands”

Following in the footsteps of James Krenov.

Something interesting is happening to me as I try to write this article. I know what I want to say, but I’m too preoccupied with the outcome, and something keeps getting lost along the way. I’m striving for more and more precision, losing the thread of thought. What’s amazing about this experience is that it precisely illustrates what Krenov says about the difference between practical joinery and artisanal joinery, and that’s exactly what I want to talk about in the article. Irony? Or perhaps a hint at how I should approach writing. Through listening, openness, curiosity, and faith in the process.

Many come to the gates of the woodworking school with a similar approach when they want to learn to build beautiful furniture from wood, fulfilling some fantasy of having impressive furniture or design. And woodworking can be like that; practical, functional, efficient, serving a purpose, aesthetic. And it can also be a profession, a livelihood. But sometimes, focusing on the external goal alone can lead us to work through it without connection to the moment, without attention to detail, something is missed, and the action becomes dull and tedious for the sake of profit, devoid of enjoyment or love, lacking connection. It’s like eating simply because one needs to eat, filling the stomach without tasting and enjoying what’s eaten, or like dressing merely to cover the body… Many live like this, and it’s perfectly fine, but there is another way. There is woodworking that is a process of learning, development, listening, passion, and connection. Woodworking that is a meeting of worlds and the creation of something new. Woodworking where profit is in every given moment, in the abundance that the creation itself brings.

In his books, Krenov compares the construction of a musical composition to the construction of furniture. A musical composition cannot be planned. It is created note by note until complete harmony, and if one instrument in the composition is out of balance, the whole melody will sound false. It’s the same in visual arts – there is an idea or an object from which one begins, but the creation itself is not planned. It arises from the encounter between the creator and the canvas or material and develops gradually. Influenced by the artist’s mood, the material used, their tools, their skill, the light and shade. When every detail is meaningful and affects the whole creation.

Another aspect is treating the result as the pinnacle, as a detail in the work for which we are willing to endure, sacrifice, exploit… The end justifies the means. This blindness creates distance, separation, and ultimately a generic, impersonal product that sometimes misses the goal altogether. If we focus on the result only with out the intimacy of connecting each moment, we are left with a pretty empty package.

What Krenov wishes us to see is the beauty, depth and joy that comes from making love to our work. and love is sometimes frustrating but you don’t want to miss a moment of it.

(“With wakened hands” is the title of one of JK’s books)