Too much
knowledge can spoil the fun. Specifically, when a person has deep knowledge of
a specific process or art, it becomes difficult to consider the element in its
simplicity, as most people do. Instead, the connoisseur analyzes it, often to
death.
One area you can
see this is language. Most people are interested in the point of communication,
not its form. By contrast, writers of all types are often more interested in
the form and quite critical of it. For example, writers tend to judge text as
much by how good it is written as what it is trying to day. Likewise,
translators, including my wife and me, immediately notice over-literal
translation and source text interference, especially in menus and signs.
Musicians may not even notice the total sounds due to their focus on individual
performances, good and bad.
Choreographers sometimes tear down complicated dances into their
component parts, negating the effects of synergy. So, language experts insist
on proper language, occasionally forgetting the ultimate purpose of
communication.
In a world
filled with visual information, certain experts immediately focus on a specific
aspect. Barbers (or hair designers, as applicable) probably focus on the cut of
the hair, with a bit of a critical note I imagine. In the same way,
optometrists catch the form of the frame of the glasses, generally ignored by
most people unless it is violently inappropriate. Since my wife is a knitter, I
see how fast she checks out any knitted object and checks if it is machine or
handmade, with a comment on the skill level if the latter. Potters do not see
plates as objects on which you put food but instead as works of art, or lack
thereof. Like flies and light, certain professionals are immediately attracted
by certain visual clues.
This attention
often enters the realm of judgment. After years of assessing damage, insurance
assessors probably cannot pass a dented car without doing a calculation in
their head of the cost to repair it. On my favorite cooking show, Les
Carnets de Julie, I watched a baguette judge name the 16 tests, no less, of
a proper French bread, of which only the last was taste. For this person, a
baguette is not a loaf of bread by any other name. I pity dog breeders, who
find it difficult to say “what a cute dog” without trying to figure out the
breed(s) of the dog and how well it would do in a show.
There are many
advantages of being an expert. However, sometimes, it would be nice to enjoy
the world at its face value, without adding complexity or judgment.
Unfortunately, once gained, knowledge is hard to lose. As Milton might say, it
is paradise lost.
