Thoughts on Post-Industrial Construction and the (anti?) Pursuit of Perfection(ism)

I put in my two weeks at work after the boss invited us to a motivational conference featuring Colin Powell, Rudy Guiliani, Zig Zigler and others.
No real correlation besides temporal.

I've been at this job, described as a carpenter's apprentice, because I was interested in 1) Working with wood, 2) Learning more about general construction of houses, and 3) To improve my blue-collar credentials.
I've succeeded mildly in all three, however, over all I've learned that the modern construction of a house requires such a diverse skill-set that the learning curve is incredibly steep. Because of this, I figured that I would not be knowledgeable enough to even consider asking for a raise for quite some time (as is true with most jobs, but these previous jobs were sub to my school work at the time, or something i seriously loved-- farming- once, fancy food/cheese-second, which made the challenge of the learning curve less overwhelming;) But I am not willing at the moment to commit to this particular learning curve given the present conditions. It is time for something different.

Anyway.

Part of the disenchanting part of the Job is its pursuit of perfectionism-- much like what I would imagine building a new car would be like if it were by hand--, that accompanies the majority of the work we perform.
We try to bring our cabinets and doors to a level of perfection many times before, during and after painting, which cannot be maintained--- only pursued (because always working, and moving the pieces always endangers them to bump doorways, boots, elbows, tables,...) and once added to the house, will quickly lose their flawlessness.
So what is this perfect moment we are striving for?
Is it an image? A claim for less liability on the part of the company for the wood future imperfections/dents/expansion/contraction?
I know it is part of an appeal to the wedding/fiesta/love at first site/ celebration- psychology that many appeals to our artistic eye contain. I accept this and can appreciate this. However, this architecture/construction/carpentry that moves me and get my hands dirty within its loomingly historic and deeply rich field is largely not this.
Rather, it is more in line with the learning to love your partner/siblings/roommates occurance that so parallels the beauty of old buildings with their layers revealing themselves.

Ianto Evans is quoted to say "I build old buildings" (Hand-Sculpted House)

This he described as buildings that look old within a year or two after construction. I respect that this is not very everyone, but I am passionately engaged in this aesthetic and its promotion. This is largely because the region i have been raised in (and its patron-statehood) is severely lacking this aesthetic, (and i understand that it even passively promotes it worldwide).
Part of this aesthetic is giving in the aging, which for a building involves a particular disposition towards its climate.
Another, for me, is a house that encourages use, that invites it. A well designed kitchen, workspace, living room, garden; Warm, easy to clean, easy to mess up. Ones that make you want to cook, work, play, love, garden, etc.

Not: "Not for sitting"

This is the type of cabinets we are building. So ironic, because a cabinet's design function is to be used.
Instead of going to that faultless linearity, impeccably flat planed fronts, and perfectly sanded and painted right angles, --
instead of this, take a look at Sunray Kelley's Work, take a look at "the Hand Sculpted House"
If if you don't have the benefits of your own mill, chainsaw, etc, A space, a cabinet can still look beautiful-- and perhaps even more so with time , if its imperfections are chosen more carefully. Sanded down to be sure- for the most part-- smoothed , and made pleasant to the touch--
but exactly that: Pleasant to the touch. And not a touch that is afraid of the Perfection of its beheldst. The cabinet says: Use me. Respect me, but please use me.



Tomorrow, and Saturday, and less than two more weeks of Partly Panoptic Perfectionism,