Resolution of Craftsmen

I'm currently reading "The Craftsman" by Richard Sennett.

I read tonight about the conflict between the designer and the craftsman that occurred in Peachtree Center in Atlanta. The problem was that the designers used CAD to plan the whole thing and never visited the city to know it was hot outside in the summer. The community of craftsman fixed many of the remote ideal design flaws, but they couldn't fix them all.

I found it quite ironic that I struggled for a week with a very similar issue within one of the office complexes there several years ago. Overall, the combination of design and craft worked well there.

So here is Richard's section on conflicting standards, one of my favorites so far:

What do we mean by good-quality work? One answer is how something should be down, the other is getting it to work. This is a difference between correctness and functionality. Ideally, there should be no conflict; in the real world, there is. Often we subscribe to a standard of correctness that is rarely if ever reached. We might alternatively work according to the standard of what is possible, just good enough-- but this can be a recipe for frustration. The desire to do good work is seldom satisfied by just getting by.

Thus, following the absolute measure of quality, the writer will obsess about every comma until the rhythm of a sentence comes out right, and the woodworker will shave a mortise-and-tenon joint until the two pieces are completely rigid, needing no screws. Following the measure of functionality, the writer will deliver on time, no matter that every comma is in place, the point of writing being to read. The functionally minded carpenter will curb worry about each detail, knowing that small defects can be corrected by hidden screws. Again, the point is to finish so that the piece can be used. To the absolutist in every craftsman, each imperfection is a failure; to the practitioner, obsession with perfection seems a prescription for failure.

A philosophical nicety is necessary to bring out this conflict. Practice and practical share a root in language. It might seem that the more people train and practice in developing a skill, the more practical minded they will become, focusing on the possible and the particular. In fact, the long experience of practice can lead in the opposite direction. Another variant of the "Isaac Stern rule" is : the better your technique, the more impossible your standards. (Depending on his mood, Isaac Stern worked many, many variations of the "Isaac Stern rule" on the virtue of repeated practice.) Linux can operate in a similar fashion. The people most skilled in using it are usually the ones thinking about the program's ideal and endless possibilities.