Slow is in my Blood

The unfinished “The Adoration of the Magi” by Leonardo da Vinci (1480)

I am slow. 

I love to dawdle, look at this and that, get sidetracked, explore more and get lost in the detail. 

This should not be confused with laziness. I’m really not lazy. I can work extremely hard, for long periods on end. I get a lot of things done; it just takes me longer than most. I am usually one step behind and not on schedule. I frustrate people who are efficient and fast.

Of course it has its drawbacks and a negative side. It is not a very effective strategy if you want to pay the bills every month by producing a large number of things. My output, in terms of quantity, will never make me rich. 

It often makes me feel guilty because judging by productivity, efficiency and time-is-money-standards I really do not make the grade. As I’ve said before, most of the time I feel out of step with culture and Western society, or to be more precise, that part of culture and society that’s regarded successful and effective.

On the other hand, if you want to get things done that require patience and attention to detail, the type of work that frustrates others, I am your man. Restoration is therefore right up my alley.

Probably as part of trying to understand myself and in an effort to curb the guilt, I’ve developed a sensitivity to detect and discover fellow slow ones. And I’ve created a file on my computer where I store information about them and keep samples of their work. Over time I’ve met quite a few members of the clan.

Without saying too much myself, I’ll introduce them through what has been written about them and through their own words and work.

Leonardo da Vinci

To the frustration of many of his patrons Da Vinci was an extremely slow worker. And added to that, he often did not finish projects that he had been busy with.

“Da Vinci might have gotten away with not finishing a few works if he had maintained a faster pace. In his lifetime Van Gogh painted more than 2,000 works. Da Vinci, in comparison, spent more than three years painting the Last Supper and more than five years working on the Mona Lisa. The Adoration of the Magi took another three years, and, yes, it too, remains unfinished!”

https://www.walksofitaly.com/blog/all-around-italy/leonardo-da-vinci-surprising-facts


Henry David Thoreau

When I read these well-known words of Thoreau many years ago it stirred my soul. They still do.

“If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.”

Rainer Maria Rilke

In a letter to a friend written on February 3, 1923 Rilke said:

“As for me, my internal pace is slow. Mine is the intrinsic slowness of the tree that embraces its growth and its blooming. Yes, I have a bit of its admirable patience. I had to train myself in it from the moment I understood the secret slowness that engenders and distills any work of art. But if I know its temporal measure, I know nothing of its immobility. Oh, the joys of travel!”

Commenting on these words on the blog A Year with Rilke , one of the administrators Ruth, made this lovely remark to which I want to say, “Yes, yes, yes….!”:

“Slow, but able to travel, to move from this to that. I think I could have gotten math, if I had had long enough from one concept to the next. Math 101 for a lifetime is about right. Imagine if we studied each thing for a lifetime. Each and every thing we wish, and sometimes what we don't wish."

 http://yearwithrilke.blogspot.co.za/2011/06/slowness.html


Leonard Cohen

Leonard was known to be one of music’s slow creators. He took 40 years’ worth of revisions to get one particular song, “Born In Chains” right— a good example of his “(in)famously arduous gestation period.”

https://music.avclub.com/leonard-cohen-teases-death-on-the-lean-surprising-popu-1798181383

I would therefore give him the honours to write the anthem for us slow ones.

“Slow” 

I’m slowing down the tune

I never liked it fast

You want to get there soon

I want to get there last 

It’s not because I’m old

It’s not the life I led

I always liked it slow

That’s what my momma said 

I’m lacing up my shoe

But I don’t want to run

I’ll get there when I do

Don’t need no starting gun 

It’s not because I’m old

It’s not what dying does

I always liked it slow

Slow is in my blood 

I always liked it slow:

I never liked it fast

With you it’s got to go:

With me it’s got to last 

It’s not because I’m old

It’s not because I’m dead

I always liked it slow

That’s what my momma said 

All your moves are swift

All your turns are tight

Let me catch my breath

I thought we had all night 

I like to take my time

I like to linger as it flies

A weekend on your lips

A lifetime in your eyes 

I always liked it slow... 

I’m slowing down the tune

I never liked it fast

You want to get there soon

I want to get there last 

So baby let me go

You’re wanted back in town

In case they want to know

I’m just trying to slow it down

Julia Cameron

As master of creativity, Julia has been a very wise guide over many years.

I came across this at the beginning of her book, The Creative Life:

“Where to begin? It’s a dim, gray day with rain threatening. I sit curled in my big leather writing chair. I am writing longhand, the better to craft an intimate, handmade book. I could go more quickly on a computer, but “quickly” is the villain. For half a year, my life has rushed past, leaving me feeling buffeted. I don’t enjoy a speeded-up life. There is no time for savoring people or events. “Aha,” says my girlfriend Jennifer Bassey, an actress. “That is the price of success.”

I want to throw the brakes on. The price of success strikes me as too high to pay. I want time to walk, not run. I’d go so far as to say I want time to dawdle. Instead of priding myself on the velocity of my life, I want to turn each moment to the light, cradling time like a fine Fabergé egg—or perhaps a crystal casting shards of light on my life. I want to be “in the now,” not rushing ahead to a hectic future, not pining for the past, gilded by nostalgia.”

So, what is the purpose of these names, examples and quotations?

Do they make me feel better about myself? To a large degree. They make me realise that there are other, well-known people who have been notoriously (or famously) slow and despite that they have survived and have left something behind.

I find it very interesting that I’ve admired and loved the work of all these artists and writers that I’ve mentioned long before I’ve known that they we slow workers. There’s a quality and a depth to it that really speaks to me. I want to have that in my work as well.

Do I try to make the point that I am special and talented and therefore should be given time and space? Yes I do. You can see that from the company I keep.

Do I try to build a case for a more leisurely pace to life? Definitely. I am in total agreeement with William Henry Davies:

“What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.”

From my side, acknowledging that I am part of this world and culture I live in, I will do my best to go about a little faster, more focused, with a well ticked off to-do-list at the end of each day.

But I cannot promise anything. Something might sidetrack me along the way. Things might get slow.

What can I say? It’s in my blood. And I’m not alone.

George