On slowness
A defense of taking ten years to build something that lasts ten years.
Everything around me is optimized for speed — ship fast, learn fast, fail fast. Fine. Some things should be fast. Deploys should be fast. Feedback loops should be fast.
But the work — the actual craft — I want that slow.
Slow like a jazz standard that took a decade of playing to understand. Slow like a building designed by someone who knew they'd never see the trees mature. Slow like this website, which I'm building as if it has to represent me for ten years, because it does.
Speed is a tactic. Slowness is a position.
The fast things I make are experiments — they're supposed to die, and their job is to teach. The slow things are the point. Knowing which is which might be the whole job.
Tonight: tea, one good record, forty minutes of drawing hands. No metrics were moved. Everything important was.