mastercraftsman

So today I think of art and science. Stradivarius only selected the most perfect specimens of spruce, that had tumbled down certain mountain streams, for their mineral content. That tonal quality is still treasured two centuries later. He had a very scientific mind....
On the other hand, I came up to Luke today, sanding away blindfolded. He was using more power sanders than his hands, trying to speed up. "Lesson Number One." I said, clamping one of the delicatley ellipsed floral bars into his bench. I proceeded to whip out my Japanese chisel studying the grain. "It's easy to wish machines could come to the rescue... But all it takes is willpower..." A two foot long shaving, thin as lace, fluttered up from my blade, resulting in a glass smooth finish. "Why didn't you show me that to begin with? It's been taking me fifteen minutes apiece to sand these things." "Sergei can't even do that." Sergei is the oldest and best craftsman besides me, and my well respected right hand man. "The truth is I was fed hocus pocus for years. But you have to read the grain, and have the muscle control. I'd be surprised if you could do that five years from now...."
And my boss is still an asshole. "What the fuck you mean all that lumber needs to go back? I had samples x-rayed and everything." "It's not pattern grade. And vacuum kiln my ASS. I got moisture content from 2% to 10%. Checks, pitch pockets. And, he's slipping some Tiama in there." "Now how the fuck do you know that? *I* can't even see the difference between those two." Like he's the expert. "I can smell it."

I got to do the walking off today.