RePointing the World of Work

The skills of the artisan

There is something frantic about the workplace at the moment. An absence of thinking in favour of just trying things—a sort of lottery mindset—a move-fast-and-break-things mentality.

It erodes the workplace and leaves a gap for the New Artisan.

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There is a fine line between complex and chaotic in Dave Snowden’s Cynefin approach, between the need for the “probe-sense-respond”, “safe to fail” experiments approaching the uncertain and the “act-sense-respond” approach to the chaotic.

It is as though we only believe data and that generating more of it is the only way to proceed. We have little patience for knowledge, understanding, wisdom, or time to think. And yet, we are drowning in data; every interaction we have on the internet seems designed to harvest more of it rather than do something practical to serve us. Regardless of whether or not we pay, our relationship with those seeking our data is increasingly one-way. We are not just the product; we are the milch cow.

This mindset is reflected in the workplace. Employers want instant skills to meet deadlines set to satisfy financial targets more than genuine innovation. They underpin a story of plausible fiction to keep momentum until reality bites—by which time the storytellers hope to be far away.

Along the way, this turmoil weakens the connections that any meaningful project requires to cope with the inevitable fluctuations accompanying exploration: relationships, history, knowledge, understanding, wisdom, and patience. None of these are factored into any measure of efficiency or productivity, and the losses incurred when redundancies are used to maintain the story are not recorded.

Relationships become transactional, data replaces conversation, and nobody cares. The psychological “pointing” that strengthens the spaces between members of the organisation and flexes to cope with change dries up, cracks and falls out, and we end up with puddles of ignorance inside the organisation.

Sometimes, it’s tactical ignorance - the known but inconvenient truths that get in the way of the story. Other times, it’s induced - submerged beneath a tsunami of rhetoric and social media launched to reinforce the story. Then there’s the more sensate variety - the sense of unease amongst those who have grown up with the organisation or the project. The sort that cannot be captured by data and sits, persistent and aggravating beyond the reach of numbers and words, in the same way birds take flight before an earthquake, and before we have sensed it.

Murder may pass unpunish'd for a time,
But tardy justice will o'ertake the crime.

From “The Cock and the Fox”, John Dryden. 1631-1700. Poet Laureate.

The truth, though, like murder, will out.

Complicit ignorance is a self-delusion of the highest order.

We can discuss confirmation bias, anchoring bias, availability heuristics, and a long list of other reasons we stay with false narratives. Still, the uncomfortable reality is that they are optional.

They will not stand up to conversation in good company.

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Throughout the ages, the hallmark of the artisan has been that they have understood the materials they work with, are skilled at shaping them, and in doing so, express who they are in service of an idea, others, or both. What they create lasts, perhaps as an artefact or maybe as an idea and stands out from the mediocrity of mass production.

Amid the frantic activity that is the hallmark of the advocates of the “growth to infinity and beyond” economy, something more balanced, thoughtful, generous and beautiful is emerging. It is fragile and persistent, like the first growth after a forest fire. It is like the understory in a forest, waiting for a space in the canopy created by a falling giant to give it access to the light so it can grow. It has the hallmarks of my favourite educational artisan, Loris Malaguzzi, who built new schools from the debris of the destroyed ones in post-WWII Italy and created a new, inclusive pedagogy for a new era that is still a gold standard seventy years later.

The rarest thing you possess is your own potential.

"Scarcity shapes our choices and drives our actions. When something is scarce, it suddenly becomes valuable. We want it more because there is less. This principle underlies everything from the price of gold to the thrill of the hunt. 

Scarcity isn’t just about material things. It applies to time, opportunities, and ideas. It’s why we’re drawn to the exclusive, the ­ limited-­edition, the one-of-a-kind. 

In economics, scarcity is a foundational principle. There are infinite wants and desires but limited resources. We can’t have everything, so we must choose. Scarcity guides those choices. 

Some businesses operate with a scarcity mentality, removing shock absorbers and operating lean, with just enough resources to produce the day’s goods. This model is prone to disruption with the slightest hiccup and signals to employees that they’re in a culture of scarcity, triggering our biological instinct toward self-preservation. We subconsciously hoard things of value to gain an individual advantage. 

Scarcity can work to your advantage. Imagine you’ve got a rare combination of qualities: honest, hardworking, and smart. People like that are scarce, and the world tends to reward them disproportionately. It’s not just about being good at one thing; it’s about having a mix of traits. 

The key to navigating scarcity is understanding its power, recognizing when it’s driving our choices, and asking if those choices align with our true values and goals. Sometimes, scarcity creates real value. But sometimes, it’s just a mirage, a trick of the mind.”

— Source: The Great Mental Models v4: Economics and Art

When we’re so affected, it is hard to see large organisations thrashing around for what they are: desperate attempts to answer questions they have not had the humility or taken the time to ask. They resemble sects of religions, impervious to the fact that others see their self-interested interpretation of the world as abuse.

This also means that they will not provide a route to healthier societies. That route will be a combination of governments if they can disentangle themselves from the web of money and influence large organisations weave, or, more likely, ourselves.

Circumstances may mean that our working lives start with them, whether working 90-hour weeks as well-paid (but highly expendable) junior bankers or flipping burgers for minimum wage. That does not mean we have to stay there.

If we acknowledge it, there is an artisan in all of us, and it needs room to grow. We need some “rites of passage” that recognise and honour the moment when the artisan in us takes over from the corporate drone and supports it as it takes its first steps.

It needs communities - virtual and physical - of those who have trodden the path, those treading it, and those approaching it.

How can we help each other identify and develop the artisanal skills that fulfil us to establish autonomous work practices, moving from dependence on organisations, through independence from them, to interdependence on our own terms?

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There will be an New Artisans / Outside the Walls conversation on Zoom on Tuesday, September 17th, at 5:00 pm UK time, to explore this idea.

This call will be open to all, so we can shape it. What follows is open to discussion—my preference is to use a paid subscription as a filter, but we’ll see. I don’t want money to get in the way of doing something important.

I hope to see you there.