Finding the Rhythm: Balancing Speed and Precision in Hand Engraving

As a hand engraver, I often find myself reflecting on my process once a project is done. Lately, I’ve been working on practice pieces—personalized gifts for friends and family, each one tailored to the person receiving it. These pieces are my playground for learning, but they’ve also sparked an internal debate: should I slow down to chase precision, or keep my current pace to produce more work?

Here’s the tension I’m wrestling with. On one hand, I can engrave a piece in 8-10 hours

, focusing on the overall design and getting it into someone’s hands quickly. It’s satisfying to see the joy it brings, and the faster pace lets me experiment with more ideas. But when I look back, I sometimes wonder if I should have taken more time—gone over each line multiple times, carved less steel per pass, and aimed for a more precise, polished result. That approach could turn a 1-day project into a 2-week one, but the difference in quality might be night and day.

Part of me thinks, “Time is money.” If I were charging a premium for a masterpiece, slowing down would make sense. But these are gifts, not paid commissions, so the pressure isn’t financial—it’s personal. I want to master my craft, and I know that slowing down can help me refine my skills. Taking multiple passes on a line, for instance, gives me better control over depth and shape, creating cleaner, more professional scrollwork. It’s the kind of practice that could elevate my work over time. But if every piece takes two weeks, I’d have fewer chances to try new designs or learn from different projects.

So, where’s the balance? I’m starting to think it’s about rhythm. Some pieces can be quick—focused on flow, creativity, and getting the design done. Others can be slow and deliberate, where I push myself to perfect every line and explore new techniques, like paying closer attention to the negative space (a concept I’ve been diving into lately). By mixing both approaches, I can keep learning without losing momentum. The fast pieces let me produce more, while the slow ones help me grow.

What I love about this journey is that every piece teaches me something, whether it’s a quick gift or a meticulous study. And honestly, the people I give these to are just happy to have something made with heart—they don’t see the tiny imperfections I obsess over. But I do, and that’s what keeps me going. Mastery isn’t about perfection; it’s about having the skill to create something amazing when the moment calls for it. For now, I’ll keep practicing both ways, finding my rhythm one cut at a time.