The Door Polisher
September 29, 2012 
As parents will to children and teachers to students, most craftsmen seem to enjoy passing on accumulated wisdom in the form of pithy sayings. Some are humorous, like my carpenter friend's reversal of common-sense advice that always leads to giggles. "Measure once, cut twice", he intones with a straight face before we both laugh, knowing how many disasters from the past still lie scattered along that ill-advised path. Other snippets of practical wisdom are more serious and reverberate with truth. No less a wall-tender than the poet Robert Frost knew the distinction between a job and a career. He described it as the difference between working forty hours a week and sixty, a reality some discover too late and much to their chagrin.
After years of varnishing boats for a living, I've come to appreciate other truths embedded in a multitude of old varnishers' adages - including the rueful acknowledgement that there's no such thing as a "last coat of varnish". However diligent the varnisher, however attentive or cautious, there's no escaping the realities of the physical world. Insects, pollen, humidity, wind, fog, rain, dew, heat and manic yard crews toting an assortment of mowers and blowers always are lying in wait, determined to wreak frustration and chaos upon the creative process.
When the assorted Horsemen of the Varnishers' Apocalypse show up, there's nothing for it but to start again, sanding, varnishing and polishing away until the wood is smooth, glossy and reflective. Sometimes, near-perfection is achieved. Usually, the "Rule of Good Enough" applies, and a satisfied customer takes the boat away.
Like every good life-lesson, the story of the search for the perfect last coat of varnish fits neatly into more than one context. Discussions among varnishers always bring to mind a story I was told years ago, a delectable story of another craftsman who lived in Italy during the rule of the House of Medici.
The man spent his days working in a studio where huge bronze doors were cast. His job was the last step in the creative process - polishing and burnishing their glorious detail. Day after day he stood, rubbing and rubbing with his soft cloth until the doors fairly gleamed. One day, a visitor to the studio watched him labor through an entire morning, certain he would tire. As the hours wore on, the man showed no sign of exhaustion and no inclination to stop work. The visitor finally asked, "How do you know when you've completed the job?" "That's easy enough," replied the man with the cloth. "They take the door away."
It's occurred to me recently that the story provides encouragement for writers as well as varnishers. Everyone who writes even the shortest piece - a term paper, a job application, a magazine article, a blog entry - knows the temptation to toil away, polishing words until they gleam. Those who engage themselves in more complex projects such as long-form essays, short stories or book-length fiction and non-fiction often find themselves in the same situation, albeit on a larger scale. Day after day passes while a finite number of words are rearranged an infinite number of times and in an infinite number of ways. Sometimes, the effort leads to a sense of satisfaction, a conviction that things have come out "right". Just as often, an editor, a publisher, a deadline or simple exhaustion puts an end to the process by "taking the writing away."
Whatever our chosen craft, the same dynamic touches each of us simply by virtue of our humanity. Caught up in youthful enthusiasm, we design and cast our dreams as we begin the process of creating a self. With the passage of time, we learn to shape and mold those dreams, dedicating ourselves to bringing them to fruition. And in the end - after all the decisions have been made, all the experiences lived and all of the responsibilities accepted - wisdom will stand with her cloth, polishing our lives in patience and in love until the day of completion, a day when even our gleaming and burnished lives will be taken from us and we pass through that final door.
Photo ~ The East Doors of the Florence Baptistry, by Ghiberti
Creativity, Perseverance
Reader Comments (18)
From beginning to end, Linda, this is exquisite...borrowing a title from a post here but 2 days ago!
what a gorgeous post...so beautifully worded, and so true. i'm fascinated by your life of varnishing boats, what kind and how long would it take? i love our old jahazi dhow, moored at the coast, i would love to give her a varnish, but i think she's too well past her prime sadly!
Lovely post, Linda. Sometimes, some of us are lucky enough to believe that we have polished that door to perfection and switch to an equally enthralling second career.
Wow...what wonderful...thought-provoking..inspiring metaphors for our lives and how we live them. Lucky you - to have found the wisdom in the imperfections of perfectly varnished boats and all other things that we strive for. Beautiful!!!
There are some posts I have to read a couple of times to try to understand...and then there are posts I WANT to read over again because they are so wonderful. This post is the later. Oh my! Thank you, Linda. As Ginnie said, "From beginning to end, Linda, this is exquisite." Thank you.
This is truly beautiful. As beautiful as the door you have chosed to illustrate your words. Thank you so much.
I enjoyed this so much, too, beautiful writing!
my life has been filled with final doors of late. doors have always been superb metaphors for so many things we do in life, but i confess that it has been years since i considered them. your post was so well written, i was thinking about c.s. lewis until i got to the last paragraph and remembered reality. when words can take us through magical doors and back, the trip is one that shines.
thanks for this radiance this morning.
my life has been filled with final doors of late. doors have always been superb metaphors for so many things we do in life, but i confess that it has been years since i considered them. your post was so well written, i was thinking about c.s. lewis until i got to the last paragraph and remembered reality. when words can take us through magical doors and back, the trip is one that shines.
thanks for this radiance this morning.
When I first saw your picture, Linda, I was thinking immediately of Florence and the Medici. Then I read your beautiful post - and I imagined that varnisher, polishing away on this door of the baptistry. I think your thoughts and words are true for so much in life, for what we create. So exquisitly written - thank you!
Yes - we pass through many doors, don't we? This is such beautiful metaphor Linda. Thanks for so much to ponder.
The description of the varnishing reminds me of when I was varnishing a serving hatch in my house many many years ago. My Dad told me I would know when it was finished, it would feel like glass...
I think as you can say the polishing can apply to anything. I am never quite satisfied with my words or my photos, there is always something more I could do. But I do have to stop and let go of each piece or I would never move on...
Ginnie ~ Thanks so much. If there's a record somewhere of the number of times a post gets clicked for modification, you'd just laugh. That last paragraph was a killer to do!
Eliza ~ I primarily do external trim on both power and sail boats. Wooden boats don't do well on the Texas coast - the water's too warm and there are too many creatures that enjoy munching on them! How long it takes depends on the size of the boat, of course, Some can be done in a week, others extend over weeks. I do enjoy it.
Sheila ~ And sometimes, some of us decide no matter how long we polish, it's not going to look any better, so we head off to the next door anyway!
Marcie ~ People gripe and moan about "the real world" quite a bit, but I've always found that reality's a pretty good place to go looking for inspiration!
Sue ~ There's no greater compliment than a re-read! I'm so glad you enjoyed it.
Soosie ~ Isn't the door wonderful? I don't imagine I'll ever make it to Italy, but if I did, the Florence Baptistry would be on my "must-see" list. Thank goodness we can see some of these wonders anyway!
Susan ~ Thank you!
Honey ~ I love doors and windows, too. As a matter of fact, one of my personal little bits of writing wisdom is that words can be windows and doors, or they can be bricks. Just because we pile up a lot of bricks doesn't mean we can get out and go somewhere, or glimpse the wonder of the world!
Carola ~ More and more often, I find insights from one area of life applying in many others. If truth is truth, that makes sense. The lessons may have to be adapted a bit, but they still fit.
Barbara ~ And then, of course, there are the times we forget a door is closed and try to walk through it anyway! I've done that a time or two - but not much more. Even I can learn!
Cherry PIe ~ Your Dad knew a thing or two, didn't he? My boats don't look like your china cabinet did, I'm sure - but of course, you didn't leave your lovely piece out on a dock in the sun and the rain! The truth about boat varnish is that (here, on the Texas coast at least) it has to be redone every six months. I call that job security! And you're exactly right - if we didn't let go, we'd lose all those other opportunities that are just waiting.
Linda, a beautifully polished piece, with much in it to ponder.
Maery Rose ~ I always enjoy it when someone says they've found something to ponder in one of my pieces, rather than saying it's something to think about. It means in at least some small way I've touched the heart as well as the head. ;)
An interesting and provocative post Linda. Although i'm more of a picture taker than a wordsmith these days there is no end to the refining and polishing that goes into that endeavour. Always one more tweak or touch until the image needs to be "put out there". A very relevant piece that speaks to many aspects of our lives I suspect.
So much truth and wisdom in this post... my dad has a lot of sayings like that, and the measure twice, cut once one is one of our jokes, because he never does it, and quite often regrets it.
Perfectionism is a daunting way to live, and it is so much better when the good enough rule comes into play, though letting go of something you've poured your heart into can be so difficult.
So much to think about here!
Marie ~ The urge to polish and refine surely does apply to photos, too. I'm sure it's even more important to those of you who are "real photographers" than I can imagine. But in all cases, there comes a time to let go - and I suspect that a photo can "say so" as much as a piece of writing!
Kelley ~ Of course, you always have people like me, who can measure a dozen times and still get it wrong! I'm slowly learning that attention is key - in fact, attention to detail is something I learned in my varnishing first, and then brought to my writing, not the other way around.
My mother was a perfectionist on my behalf, and it took me years to get beyond it. When I was much, much younger, I was afraid to try anything because I "knew" it wouldn't be good enough. She just wanted me to do well - but sometimes a little "good enough" would have been welcomed.