Practice

“I discovered that what's really important for a creator isn't what we vaguely define as inspiration or even what it is we want to say, recall, regret, or rebel against. No, what's important is the way we say it. Art is all about craftsmanship. Others can interpret craftsmanship as style if they wish. Style is what unites memory or recollection, ideology, sentiment, nostalgia, presentiment, to the way we express all that. It's not what we say but how we say it that matters.”

We open with this spicy quote from Federico Fellini this rainy Monday. On the subject of art and craftsmanship. Two subjects over which I obsess. There are others, but they aren't peeking over my shoulder at this moment in time as much as this pair. And please allow me to humbly confess that I do not consider myself neither artist nor craftsman. There are moments, but the body of sustained quality is something still shimmering on the horizon as goal. Success in the how, not merely the what.

I am convinced that what matters more here, hides deeper and more elusive even than form versus function, is in the attempt. In our practice. Trying to get better. Searching passionately for the tools, skills, discipline, inspiration, eyes, ears, heart and soul of the artist. A relentless pursuit of the form, detail, texture, feel, utility and stamina of the craftsman. Simply doing.

The road. The journey. The Tao. My life. The effort in the attempt. Our practice.

Practice can be art. We should all be apprentices learning the secrets of our chosen trade. In this model spinning is no different than racing. The craft of the personal best is polished atop the workbench of the dojo. Where repetition is required, detail rehearsed. Until the mundane shifts shape to the magical. And with time this alchemical transformation occurs. So we need a spoonful of patience with our practice.

Here focus and frequency become, eventually, art forms unto themselves and craftsmanship the manifestation of precise passion.

Sometimes I think that I don't have the time or money or patience or talent to do it right, to make it art, to be a craftsman.

And I remember that what really, really matters is that I try, and I that I keep a vigilant practice. That's what I wanted to say. (And I'll practice on how I say it).

There is art in that, maybe not of 8 1/2 levels, but art.

There is some craftsmanship too, maybe not by Smithsonian standards, but a start.

Saturday I want to be the Fellini of cycle films in Sequim and Sunday I want to be the Picasso of the Mercer Island Half Marathon.

That leaves five days to practice. Gotta go.

Pix: More from the Seattle Bike Expo. The new CompuTrainer stand color, an artsy crimson. Even Cowgirls get the Reds. Renovo craftsmanship detail.