I’m not talking about the “disregard-all-your-safety-equipment-and-do-something-stupid-that-may-cut-your-finger-off” kind of risk taking.  Rather, I’m talking the “step-out-of-your-comfort-zone-and-explore-your-own-creativity” kind of risk-taking.

For us to truly grow as creative woodworkers, one necessary ingredient is required – Risk.

Let me explain what I mean…

This week I learned a new word: Ideation.   Before now, I have never used it in a sentence, but I realized that I face the implication of its meaning and its challenging context almost everyday.

According to Wikpedia, Ideation is described simply as the creative process of generating, developing, and communicating new ideas…

This is a nice clinical description of fairly simple concept.  However, the above definition, is lacking some of the realities of the context and associated feelings that come with generating new ideas.  Fear, anxiety, frustration, insecurities and self-doubt can often weigh us down in our creative process, or trip us up even before we get started.   This kind of negative energy can often sap our strength, undermine our courage, or even destroy our sense of confidence.

The reality is, innovation come in many forms.  How does that saying go? “Necessity is the mother of invention.”  Most of us are familiar with the method of innovation know as problem solving.  This is where we face a problem, give it some critical thought, and with careful analysis create a solution-based response.  Actually, problem-based innovation comes naturally to many of us who are the hands-on kind of personality.  The reason why this is the comfort zone for so many woodworkers is through this analytical methodology, we can get immediate feedback (and satisfaction) in the form of resolution of the the challenges we face.  Problem solving is inherent to our craft; its what we do.

However, another form of innovation - Artistic innovation, disregards the necessity for practicality and holds no constraints towards the creative process.  I am reminded of this reality every time I consider a new project, or when I try to teach a new student how to explore the interpretive world of sculptural woodworking.  As I start to sculpt, I often look at the mess in front of me and insecurely ask myself – (like the late night skit by David Letterman) – “Is this anything?”  It is at this stage that many of us fall to self-doubt and give up a potentially rewarding experience as we quickly return to the comfort of the problem solving method and surmise that we are the problem, and decide on the spot that we are indeed not the creative type.

The truth is, both models of innovation are legitimate forms of the creative process.  However, one requires a critical ingredient that the other does not: Risk.

So many people come to me and say “I could never do that, I’m not the creative type”- I don’t believe it.  What I believe they are truly saying is “I’m not willing to be a Risk-taker.”

So, in future blog entries I want to spend some time covering my thoughts on how to be a risky woodworker.  I will cover how to:

-Think for yourself

-Take one risk at a time

-Be an observer

-Be willing to edit

-accept that failure is an option, however neglecting to learn from failure is not!

The problem is, I’m a do-er.  I’d much rather work with wood than words.  I’d like to create that new art piece that I’m dreaming of, rather than construct an artful sentence.  I’d even prefer pounding fence posts over pounding out a blog post.

But despite all that, here I am.  I’m starting a Blog.

The thing is, I believe blogging is important to my business.  My mission is to train, encourage and inspire others in their journey as woodworkers.  With that in mind,  I should be sharing my thoughts, experiences, successes and failures,  because it will accomplish the greater good of furthering the craft that I am passionate about.

I need the priority of my purpose to overcome the tyranny of the urgent.

I was given a great illustration of this last week as I experienced a major set-back in my first woodworking class of the 2013 season.  On day 2 of an 11-day rocking char class, my 24″ bandsaw (which is critical to the operation of my shop) suddenly stopped working.  I had to delay class for a while while I frantically tore into the tool to diagnose the issue and to analyze a potential solution.  Being the hands-on kind of guy, I was in my element trying to get to the bottom of the situation and I quickly determined that there was indeed a problem with the tool motor.  This tool is over 10 years old, and has been a steady and rock-solid performer since the beginning.  But now, as I stared down this lifeless hunk of magnets, metal and wire — a sinking feeling began to overtake me.  In all the years of maintaining this tool I never once considered the need to clean the inside of the motor.  I’ve dealt with the things that seemed critical at the time — new blades, upgraded aftermarket bearing guides, replacement brakes etc.  However, I put off maintaining the thing that was most important to the life of this tool — the motor.

In my defense, I was aware that most woodworking tools come with fan-cooled, sealed housing motors.  With that in mind, it is easy to live by the adage, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!”  But even though these are supposedly sealed motors, saw dust has an insidious way of creeping into even the most unlikely of places.  Once, we opened the cover it was apparent what the problem was and who was the culprit.  The motor was obviously burnt out, most likely caused by the inordinate amount of sawdust build-up inside the “sealed” unit.  I took the motor to my motor repairman and he confirmed for me that sawdust can easily penetrate the sealed housing of a motor through the electric junction box an be drawn into the critical core of the motor causing slow, but long-term damage.  His advise was, in the future, to clear out the motor of any debris and then put a seal of silicone caulk around all the possible entry points into your motor.  As far as this motor was concerned, however, it was too late.  A replacement was necessary at the cost of $500-$600.

So In other words, you may have seemingly more important things to do when it comes to your woodworking projects or shop “to-do list”.  However, using my experience as an example (and possible motivation) it may be more important to stop the endless pursuit of things “urgent” for a while and spend a little time being more purposeful and comprehensive in the mundane things like preventative tool maintenance… or blog posts… or whatever else you may be putting off.  It will certainly pay-off in the long-run.