The Unexpected Artistry of Pizza Making

You can choose to be an artist in anything you do. Like making great pizza.

Hi all, 

What is an artist, and do you consider yourself one? 

The dictionary defines it in a few ways, "someone who creates art" being maybe the least helpful. "A skilled performer" — that one feels a little too narrow. "A person who is very good at something," too vague. In many ways, it's a tough word to nail down because we do use it in a variety of ways. 

One thing I've noticed working with musicians is that many seem a little allergic to the word. They're wary of calling themselves artists. We regularly refer to people who have released their music as "artists" — but in a way that kind of implies that you need a record deal to be one. An artist is someone over there, seemingly unreachable, a star. 

Personally, I've always been drawn to a more expansive view. In fact, it's a word I think about a lot, because I find that when I approach life as an artist, it helps me be more of the creative, thoughtful person I want to be. Let me expand on that. 

When I was 16 years old, I went to live with a host family in a small town in Italy for a year. It was an amazing experience — not least of all because the family I lived with owned a pizzeria where I got to hang out, meet lots of people, and learn the language. And eat pizza every night.  

A couple weeks ago, I visited my old host family again, with whom I've stayed in touch for 23 years. I even went back and worked there at one point. It was amazing to introduce them to my kids and catch up — but also really wonderful to see how their pizzeria, which was always a very popular place, has blown up. It was started 40 years ago by Pietro and Simonetta Carletti, the mom and dad in this family, in a town with only about 5,000 people in it — and yet, the pizza was so good that it's always brought in people from the entire region. 

About 10 years ago, the son Simone took over, and moved into a fancy new location down the road, three ovens, expanded kitchen, double the staff. Now, they consistently make about 500 pizzas a night. In this tiny, sleepy medieval village without a ton of opportunity or optimism, you turn a corner and happen upon this absolutely bopping restaurant, tables packed, conversation bumping, pizzas slinging. No tourists, all locals. Unmatchable vibes.  

We all know the restaurant business is a killer industry. In the US 60% fail within the first year, and 80% within the first five years. How has this small town pizza place been so successful? 

It's obvious within a moment of being there. First Pietro (the father) and now Simone (the son) are artists. And by that I mean, they've thought and sweated over every detail. The olive oil they use, the shape of every pizza, the right level of crispness on the crust, the way that orders are taken and received. Without a ton of resources at their disposal, it's a journey — everything isn't always perfect, but it's always done with such care and intention. And that comes through to the customers. 

My enduring image from my time there as a kid is Pietro screaming for me from the kitchen when a pizza had been waiting too long... "YANKEEEE!!!" He was never afraid to lay into someone if he thought the product or service were at risk. And like so many artists, he's driven himself absolutely crazy at times with his perfectionism. But the corollary is that the pizza is exceptional, and they've overcome huge obstacles to build something that delivers an endless amount of joy (and deliciousness). 

Why am I telling you this? Well, this is precisely why I love the word artist. Because being an artist to me is a way of being, one you can choose to put on in any facet of your life. Being an artist means approaching life with consideration, doing things for their own sake, appreciating the act of creation in and of itself. It means sweating the details no one else will notice, trying to do the best you can with what you have, even sometimes on seemingly thankless tasks. 

You can be an artist in how you wear your clothes, or how you mop the floors. You can be an artist in how you build relationships or how you help a customer. You can obviously be an artist in how you make pizza. Whenever you consider deeply what you're doing and how you're doing it, whenever you try to find a sense of joy and beauty in your actions and deliver joy in what you share, whenever you try to paint the world in vibrant colors with your work, to me you are being an artist. 

That's why I love the word. Because in my music as in my day-to-day life, I often find myself on autopilot, or trying to find shortcuts, or copying what others have done. That's when I stop, and ask myself how I can be an artist instead, and it helps me re-find that creative, careful, sometimes even mischievous side of myself that can find meaning in anything I do. Being an artist is the ultimate act of subversion — not doing something because it's the way to do it or because you're told to, but because you're finding the artistry within it. And to me, that's a better way to be. 

I'm working on a new album right now, as well as developing some piano and production skills, fueled by lingering dreams of the best pizza in the world (in my humble opinion). What are some examples of unexpected artistry in your own life, and how can you draw inspiration from them? Let us know what you find. 

What do you think? What does the word "artist" mean to you? Feel free to reply and let me know. I love hearing from you.