Shop Notes Blog
Back in 2018, my friend Blayne Chastain (talented filmmaker) made a micro-documentary about me, which you can see featured on the home page of this website. It was basically just a very short glimpse into my workshop which was meant to show a bit of what I do.
One of the features of my shop that you can see in the video is a computer controlled mill (pictured above). These machines are called CNC machines (computer numerical control) and they are essentially very basic sorts of robots that you can program to do certain tasks. I acquired my first CNC machine back in 2010, upgrading it in 2012 to the machine that features in the video. The experience of learning CNC programming and figuring out how to utilize it to share the workload was a challenging journey. I learned a lot. One of the things I learned a lot about was making DIY fixes to the machine, because it had a lot of problems over the years and needed a great deal of tweaking. So even though I acquired the machine to help ease my workload, it wasn’t an unqualified success—I had to contend with a host of other problems along the way. Despite that it did allow me to do all sorts of things that I wouldn’t otherwise have done, such as decorative carving.
Nonetheless, it was overall a useful tool and it actually did help to spare my body from some of the grunt-work of flute making. But last Fall, after many years of use, the machine was having problems with accuracy and dependability, and despite the help of a rather brilliant consultant we were unable to get to the bottom of it. At that moment, I decided that I would (with his assistance) build a new CNC machine that was more suited to my purpose. I spent some money on this, acquired some parts and began the process. But it was stressful. It was going to be expensive and time-consuming, and I had a sort of baseline of anxiety around it that was growing over time.
But then something shifted and I realized that I didn’t want another CNC machine. This realization made me reflect on the “why” of that. Why was I suddenly not interested in pursuing this? And why did I feel such a sense of release and freedom in this decision?
The answer was pretty basic, but explaining it will take a bit of philosophy.
I’m of an age where I’ve been able to observe a lot of technology unfolding. I was in my late twenties before the internet came into being (publicly), and I didn’t have an e-mail address until I was almost thirty years old. I didn’t get a smartphone until 2012 (which I did reluctantly), and even though I have used all sorts of technology in the last thirty years, I’ve always had a mixed reaction to it.
This reaction has lately become less mixed. I think that the big thing that has made me reflect on this recently is the sudden explosion of all thing AI. My reaction to the advent of this technology is by no means unique, and I doubt anything that I have to say on the subject is especially insightful or original. I’m not excited about it, and I’m frankly appalled that society as a whole is so willing to just accept this massive paradigm shift with so little thought or reflection. It is being shoved down our throats pretty much wholesale, and lots of people are unthinkingly supporting it because of all the potential convenience it represents. I’m not an activist in any sense of the word, and my point in commenting on this is not to editorialize about it. It’s more to say that this recent headlong rush into a new technology made me pause and take a hard look at my own life and work.
I realized that the world of computer-controlled everything was feeling very alien to me. Computers, the internet, and all manner of tech frequently act as a barrier between humans and more direct experiences. Not always–arguments can be made for the connectivity engendered by the internet (though in recent years a strong counter-argument can be made that the polarization of our society is being amplified by it through a hurricane of misinformation that is raging). But humanity has evolved for a long time without this tech, and I’m not sanguine about how gracefully we will adapt to it. Our track record so far is quite dismal. Some aspects of technology do make for convenience, but I feel that most of it doesn’t really enhance the quality of life very much, and many of the problems that beset us as a species are inextricably tangled with our technology.
So how does this relate to flute making?
My own workshop certainly has power tools in it. But every one of these tools, even though they use electricity and allow for ease of work, they all require that I control them. In many cases there is a lot of skill involved. And of course I do lots of old-fashioned hand tool work as well. Making flutes this way keeps me closer to the work, and makes me feel more connected to the entire process. When I was using a CNC machine, it saved me labor, but it also put me at one remove from that aspect of the flute crafting process. On a couple of occasions my CNC machine malfunctioned and was offline for extended periods of time. During those offline times, I was obliged to adapt my entire production back to the “old school” approach that I had used for the first thirteen years of my career. What I found during these periods was that I actually enjoyed my work more, and I was surprisingly efficient. The realization was already creeping in that I didn’t really need computer assisted production methods.
Then along comes this tidal wave of AI everything, and I was conscious of a growing distaste. Purely subjective, but that’s how it was for me. At the same time, I stumbled upon a video tour of another flute maker’s workshop. This was a guy in the U.K. who had started much like I did, just working alone in his garage with some pretty basic tools. But his business had changed and grown, and when I saw this video of his shop I found it to be a huge turn-off. There were multiple, massive CNC machines, lots of automation, plus a group of employees operating the machines, some of which were very specialized. In short, it was a factory. His business had transformed from “solo artisan” to “flute factory”. I don’t have any judgement about this, by the way. There is no right and wrong in this, and I think it is perfectly fine for an artisan to scale up like this if that is what they want to do. But it really gobsmacked me and drove home the realization that this was the total opposite of what I wanted for myself.
So all of these insights landed in a very short window of time. Stress around my own CNC project, a distaste for all the AI and computer-based everything, and a brief insight into where that technology might lead if I were to pursue it.
I applied the brakes.
I actually spent part of this morning dismantling my CNC mill. It’s a big piece of gear and it will take me a few days, but once it’s apart it’s going to the scrap yard to recycle the metal. It does’t work properly, otherwise I’d try to re-home it, but that in itself can be a cumbersome task (plus it is a massive thing to try to move). Therefore I decided to simply take it apart and let someone repurpose the materials. It will free up a bunch of space that I can use for an old-fashioned workbench.
This decision has been amazingly uplifting. Stepping away from that degree of tech feels like a return to a more direct and authentic place for me as an artist. I had already decided that I was going to have nothing whatsoever to do with AI in my life. I won’t knowingly use anything that uses AI, regardless of whether it means that I have to work more or pay more. Though I recognize that I’ll undoubtedly be impacted by it in ways that are invisible to me as more an more of our world comes to rely on it. But this stepping away has felt like a leap forward in harmony. There is no doubt that these technologies (including things like 3D printing) are going to take over the world in ways we probably can’t even anticipate right now, but I’m already getting a sense that there are a lot of other people out there who are equally leery of this direction, and whose response is going to be to seek more direct and authentic human experiences that don’t rely on technology so much. I routinely hear people speak of how being in nature, or doing things by hand (be it gardening, building something, cooking, drawing, what have you), makes them feel good. It’s grounding. People love being in nature, and people love being creative. I never hear anyone rhapsodize about how spending hours in front of a computer or their smartphone makes them feel healthier or more in touch with themselves. In fact it is the opposite. Most people who I’ve heard comment on this do so ruefully, expressing regret that they spend so many hours each day engaged with devices.
My friend Jon Walpole had a long career in computer science, but then retired and became a flute maker. He has a lifelong acquaintance with computers and consequently many insights related to technology and AI, and we recently had a conversation about this when I told him I was ditching the CNC stuff. This is what he said:
“If I were to seriously consider outsourcing my flute making to a computer, and hence engaging in the process of designing and programming the system, I would effectively have completely undone my own retirement. It would make a lot more sense to outsource my flute making to another flute maker, pay them to make the flutes, and continue being retired. Do you want to be a computer system designer and programmer or a flute maker? Similar questions occur when hiring others. Do you want to be a manager or a flute maker? I wonder how many artists think, ‘Hey, maybe I could hire someone else to do my paintings or carve my sculptures?’ I wonder how many would voluntarily turn to AI? Not many, I’m sure, because basically people who employ these technologies are usually trying to cut out the artist or the flute maker from the business model. They don’t really care about the creative process. It is more just about making money. AI appeals to these people because they can’t do the creative task themselves. But most people who buy art want something that was created by an artist. And most artists want to make their art themselves.”
I thought this summed up the situation very accurately.
It’s not the artists who are going to want to let AI do their creating for them. The creators out there are the ones who are having their artistic output vacuumed up and co-opted by AI, so that non-creators can use it for their own purposes. As my friend said, AI has the strongest appeal to those who want money without the work of being creative.
I don’t equate the use of simple CNC equipment to a reliance on AI, because in the case of my own experience there was no connection at all. I had to painstakingly program my CNC machine for each task—it was not figuring it out on its own! But my rethinking of technology as a whole came about as a result of reflections on the ubiquitousness of AI and how so many artists are being exploited by it.
And I don’t know where this personal paradigm shift is going. In ten years I might be doing nothing but making flutes out of bamboo that I grow in my own yard! That could happen, and if that’s where the journey takes me then I’m okay with that. I feel like I’m being pretty moderate about this decision (I have not suddenly eschewed everything that runs on electricity), and for myself it feels much more like balance. I don’t imagine my perspective is going to resonate with everyone. I have other friends who are totally excited about AI, computers, 3D printing, automation of all kinds, etc.. They embrace it unreservedly and are having a great time with it. Vive la’ difference, of course, though I’m strongly inclined to believe that societal misgivings will continue to grow, and might even begin to trouble the most enthusiastic proponents. But for myself this decision feels like moving closer to an artistic ideal that I felt at the beginning of my career, and I’m excited to make the change.
Published Sunday, June 22, 2025