MEDITATIONS ON CRAFT
Jiro Ono, the legendary sushi master of Sukiyabashi Jiro who was memorably profiled in the documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi, once reflected:
Even at my age, after decades of work, I don't think I have achieved perfection. But I feel ecstatic all day – I love making sushi.
This sentiment, expressed by an octogenarian who had already achieved the pinnacle of recognition in his field, captures the essence of true craftsmanship.
The pursuit of mastery embodies a fractal nature reminiscent of Mandelbrot's mathematical discoveries. Just as each segment of a fractal contains boundless complexity that mirrors the whole, any craft, when examined closely, reveals endless layers of nuance and sophistication. A single piece of nigiri sushi, seemingly simple, encompasses countless variables: the precise pressure applied to the rice, the temperature at which the fish is served, the subtle interplay between textures, each element infinitely perfectible.
Craftsmanship Across Domains
Consider Daniel Day-Lewis, the only performer to win three Academy Awards for Best Actor. At the height of his acting career, he chose to apprentice as a shoemaker under Stefano Bemer in Italy. Bemer's quest for the "perfect Italian shoe" resonated with Day-Lewis precisely because it represented a pursuit where each achievement unveils new horizons of possibility rather than a finite endpoint. This illustrates how any skill, when pursued deeply enough, becomes bottomless. Even the crafting of a single pair of shoes unfolds into an art with endless nuances of technique, material selection, and design considerations.
This dedication to craft, whether in performance or craftsmanship, reflects a universal truth about mastery. Jerry Seinfeld's observation that "the only thing in life that's really worth having is good skill" speaks to something profound about human achievement. The joy lies in the endless revelation of new depths within seemingly familiar territory.
Personal Reflections
In my own intellectual pursuits, I have found these same patterns of infinite depth and continuous discovery. Two areas particularly illuminate this for me: historical institutional analysis and film criticism.
As a student of institutional history, I have discovered that academic mastery mirrors the craftsman's journey. Like a master carpenter who discovers new intricacies in wood grain, each deeper understanding of how markets and legal frameworks evolve reveals more subtle complexities. Each institution, whether markets, legal frameworks, or monetary systems, can be studied ad infinitum. Each layer of understanding – from Douglass North's analysis of institutional change to Oliver Williamson's exploration of organizational structures – unveils new territories of inquiry, each worthy of lifetime study.
In parallel, my study of film criticism revealed how artistic appreciation deepens with each iteration. Hitchcock's Vertigo transforms from a compelling thriller into a masterclass in visual storytelling, its use of color and camera movement revealing new layers of meaning about obsession and desire. As film critic Jim Emerson noted:
One reason for re-viewing is to get closer and deeper into films or filmmakers whose work we already feel a strong degree of comfort and familiarity with. These are works whose cinephilic pleasure is more or less assured. Our previous, pre-existing response to the work is not likely to be seriously questioned. But these repeat visits are nevertheless valuable. They take us further, each time, into the work and its constituent details (its very ‘molecular structure’), allowing us a greater intimacy and thus fluency in thinking and talking about it. For me, some examples here might be: Hitchcock, Hawks, Renoir, Fassbinder, Lang, Lubitsch, Demy, Wong, Wes Anderson.
The Infinite Game
In his seminal work Finite and Infinite Games, James Carse argues that while finite games are played for the purpose of winning, infinite games are played for the purpose of continuing the play. This framework explains why true craftsmen often express a peculiar mix of satisfaction and restlessness. They recognize that complete mastery is impossible, yet find profound joy in the endless pursuit of refinement. The game is infinite precisely because the player's purpose is to continue playing, to perpetuate the possibility of surprising oneself and others.
Like Jiro's dedication to perfecting each piece of sushi, or Bemer's relentless pursuit of the ideal shoe, true mastery reveals itself as an endless journey of discovery. The master craftsman finds joy not in reaching a destination, but in maintaining that precious capacity for wonder - the ability to look at familiar territory and still see new worlds to explore.