Sprezzatura: The art of hiding art
SPREZZATURA (Italian)
Have you ever been around someone who’s so good at what they do, it made you feel like you were born without a single talented bone in your body? It's like reading a Sylvia Plath poem or watching Beyoncé perform – you're in awe of their talent, but also wondering how it’s possible that you, a dunce, come from the same species.
When I first moved to Los Angeles twelve years ago, I felt this way all the time. I'd go to comedy shows and watch comics like Pete Holmes and Chelsea Peretti kill it on stage, leaving me laughing yet feeling totally incompetent at the same time. They were so effortless. So skilled. So graceful in their craft. Not that I’ve ever been much of a comedian—I can’t even tell a knock-knock joke without bungling it—but I yearned for that kind of mastery in my own pursuits.
Turns out, there’s a word for that seemingly effortless talent they possess: sprezzatura.
Sprezzatura is an Italian word that sounds like a delicious flavor of gelato but actually describes the art of making something look effortless. The word comes from the Italian word "sprezzare," which means to disdain or treat with contempt. But in the context of sprezzatura, it describes the effortlessness and grace with which someone approaches something. It's the ability to hide the hard work and to make something difficult look easy, fluid, and cool—whether it's in music, acting, art, sports, fashion, stand-up comedy…basically anything that requires skill. Beyoncé? Sprezzatura. Clooney? Sprezzatura. Joan Didion? So much sprezzatura.
It takes effort to make something look effortless.
The term sprezzatura was popularized by Renaissance writer Baldassare Castiglione in his 1528 book, "The Book of the Courtier.” Castiglione described sprezzatura as “a certain nonchalance which conceals all artistry and makes whatever one says or does seem uncontrived and effortless.” He argued that the best art conceals art—it hides the labor that goes into it.
But ironically, Castiglione’s own musings on sprezzatura suggest that if you want to be really good at something, you shouldn't try so hard to look good. And I suppose that includes hiding the fact that it does take lots of work to master something. It’s a paradox: it takes effort to make something look effortless.
I recall a scene from the movie Black Swan that illustrates this idea. In it, a perfectionist ballet dancer, Nina, watches her rival, Lily, move on the dance floor. Lily’s hair is long and loose, hanging in her face. She sways across the room, laughing. Clearly, she’s having fun. The ballet director catches Nina observing Lily’s style. “Watch the way she moves,” he says, “imprecise but effortless. She’s not faking it.”
If, like me, you relate more to the tightly-wound perfectionist in this scenario, sprezzatura can seem like a frustrating reminder that you will never be as good as the people who don’t care about being good.
But there’s another way to think about it. Sprezzatura also reminds us that just because someone makes something look easy doesn't mean they didn't work hard to get there. But sprezzatura also leaves room for imperfection: Lily was imprecise, but she made up for it with authenticity. And just because we’re struggling with something—public speaking or writing or even making small talk with strangers—doesn't mean we’ll never be good at that thing. Maybe the key is to focus on doing stuff well without taking that stuff too seriously (if you’ve ever seen Black Swan, you know Nina takes it seriously—like, really, really seriously).
Maybe the best way to channel sprezzatura is to not worry about channeling it at all.
From the archives
No, You Don’t Have to Stop Apologizing (NYT). For this piece, I interviewed linguist and researcher Deborah Tannen, who said:
“Women are in a double bind. If we talk in a way that people think is self-effacing, like apologizing a lot, or not talking up what we’re good at, or acting like we’re better than everyone else, we’re underestimated at work. But if you talk in a way that you’re confident, then you’re seen as too aggressive.”
What’s new?
I recently read: Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking. I can’t remember who recommended this, but it was great. Thank you, whoever you are.
Also, a poem: My Therapist Wants to Know about My Relationship to Work.
I’m hosting a writing chat! For Come Write With Us, I’m hosting a free call to chat about all things writing: goals, blocks, pitching, and more. Interested? Hit reply and I’ll add you to the invite.
— Kristin