Refinement Takes the Least Amount of Skill

Classical music is the easiest to play. It is well-structured, precise and highly ordered. There is little in the way of deviation from the obvious, nor much sense of daring expression.

Of course the classically trained would disagree. They will pull the same tired examples of supposed courageous composition, but alas, these are mere forced narratives. For they tell the same repeated patterns and perfectly structured adherences of the discrete nature of simplistic harmony. The separation between notes perfectly discernible, brutally evident and grossly visible.

But people adore the precision because it’s the easiest to see. Nicely ordered structure sounds like the control we want in our lives. This is no different than preferring a photorealistic painting or pencil sketch over some abstract smearing that strains interpretation. Why be so abstract when one can speak, play, write and sing plainly?

But it is the deviation from precisely obvious structure that begets true creativity. Real courage takes its thumb and smears the pencil lines. It dares attempt something different, to coax from nature things yet to be discovered.

Alas, true skill is rarely appreciated. It’s too uncomfortable. Too messy. Too unknown. And so we label the most obvious and robotic things “skill” while genuine talent gets ignored until some future generation learns to embrace its difference.

Refinement is the easiest path. Its pieces are arranged, disciplined, organized, law-abiding and well-behaved. Refinement will be considered skill and talent, not despite, but because of its boring portrayal of the lowest common denominator in human proficiency.