The origin of the term is a test piece, given to an apprentice to demonstrate his mastery at a given art or craft. The master would reject anything that failed to meet his highest expectations. The test piece would demonstrate the technical proficiency and skill levels necessary for acceptance into a guild. In German Meisterstück (from which the Polish loanword majstersztyk and the 16th-century Scots term 'masterstik'). Today's meaning of 'masterpiece' is nearer the German Meisterwerk, which is not so much a piece for a master as a piece by a master.
A long path, beset with disappointment and rejection, of seeing one's own subjective criteria of excellence belittled by one's master, who set the most exacting standards to ensure that his guild's reputation was not eroded by second-rate work.
The long path is marked by repetition, which should be regularly punctuated by insights - learning moments - without which the path leads nowhere, going round in circles of futility. Mistakes must be punished, but correction is not achieved without true understanding.
Perfection, I've long held, is an impossible dream; expecting it from yourself or from others will lead to disappointment. Instead of perfection, focus on improvement - continual (and if possible, rapid) improvement. I am a slow learner, but that's the trade off for a long and easy life.
Why am I writing all this? Readers will have seen my SketchUp pub. Since making that, I've designing something of more immediate practical value, something for this summer - a wall for the frontage of my działka. Now the geodeta (legal land-surveyor) has been and marked out the border between my land and the forest next door, I can move my boundary fence some 12 metres east, and enclose my entire 3,880m2 (just under one acre) of land. Here's how I see the front of the plot, as seen from the south side (from the road). A two-metre wall, stuccoed white, curves in towards the gate, asphalt drive to the house. The wall is rounded at the top.
It took me a while to get here, but as I wrote when doing the pub, I'm a long way from mastering SketchUp. I started in 2007, learning the basics, but never really had the need to create something practical, something that will be actually built. My son, on the other hand, has built hotels, airports and entire cities using SketchUp.
Mastering a digital art form is made easier by access to online tutorials (of varying quality, it must be said). You become the apprentice, but you must also become your own master. SketchUp offers many work-rounds if things go wrong, but soon you become frustrated as one botch leads to another and it's a long way back to undo the initial mistake.
The answer is to build on Little Masteries. Master the most basic skill, make something that works, is 100% consistent, that has all the internal logic correct - and save it as such. Then learn another skill (today I learnt how to use the 'follow' tool to make curved semi-circular sections), then incorporate it on the saved model. Don't pull back from dipping into YouTube tutorials if you are stuck and need help. There have never in history been more willing tutors at your disposal.
In the pre-digital world, if you made a mistake, you'd have to go all the way back to square one and start again from scratch. In SketchUp, the learning process is less frustrating but mastery still takes thousands of hours of practice.
Below: Art Déco house, made by my son back in 2014. Looking at the model today, I can see small flaws and inconsistencies, but still - this is the work of a teenager!
Below: Art Déco house, made by my son back in 2014. Looking at the model today, I can see small flaws and inconsistencies, but still - this is the work of a teenager!
There's nothing else for it - dive back into SketchUp for another learning session - duplicating fencing posts and chicken-wire along the entire perimeter (two sides and back of plot, around 310m in total).
This time last year:
This time three years ago:
This time seven years ago:
This time eight years ago:
This time nine years ago:
This time ten years ago:
This time 11 years ago:
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1 comment:
Those curved walls are organic and inviting, and practical too as you'll get a better view of the road before pulling out. Perhaps they will beckon ivy to start climbing? Certainly they will intrigue and satisfy, saying: "whoever built me cares about the aesthetic".
I do like your son's art deco house too. The rounded promontory, part-tube waiting room, part-nautical, is most satisfying.
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