We might say: skill is a basic, humanly-constitutive form of knowledge and capability. Or rather: one of the basic, humanly-constitutive modes of *knowing-and-doing*. It is not the only form; it is the particular mode of knowing that is held and mobilised *by individuals* (the collective form is *genre*) rather than being intrinsically collective or mutual; and it is tacitly held and mobilised, *in the body* as distinct from in language, explicit constructs and analytical schemes.
The dance of knowing
Skill is laid-down through seeing/showing and cultivating/rehearsing, and is ‘played back’ into the stream of action by doing/performing: some transformational or orienting action in the sphere of *apparatus*, the world of material objects and processes, as distinct from speaking or writing or other communication (actions in the sphere of *culture*). Dance of knowing
Great skill arises out of a highly tuned relationship with **the suchness of things**. Elegantly acting within (and sometimes, by considered choice, across) the frame of that suchness, a highly skilled person receives satisfying confirmation of their own self-aware mastery of their own place and connection within the material order of things.
Skill, with regard to this element of mastery, is a deeply constitutive component of pride, beauty and belonging in a person. This is one reason why we need a politics of skill: we need people to know themselves as proud, beautiful and belonging elements of the universe of material being (that is, all things) and to be aware of the labour-power that makes them such: the suchness of their own material, in-the-body selves. The suchness of things
Skill goes hand in hand with the other tacit, constitutively-human form of knowledge: **genre**. All that was said of skill in the preceding paragraph may also be said of genre; except that genre is intrinsically held and mobilised *in collectives*; in the extended, historical, **social body** of the explicit or tacit community.
# Skill & genre - inseparable We rarely distinguish between skill and genre in this way - indeed, we hardly (in English) have an everyday word for genre, typically using *skill* to cover this too - because we are so used to the working of genres in every skilfully-produced thing or action, and to the tacit presence, ‘behind’ individual skill, of collective traditions and practical forms (including, for example, apprenticeship). In a skilful action there is always an orientation towards and within some historical or current community of skilled genre-members: those who will appreciate the work of recognising and solving and making, who will productively consume the product, who know well how to make such a difficult and well-featured thing. It is the community that validates the elegance or timeliness or skilfulness of the making of this particular thing (the performing of this thing) at this particular time.
A skilfully-done piece of work - a skilful being-with something - does not stand alone; it is at the same time a genre-product: a thing or event within a confluence of communities of interested and experienced doers-and-be-ers. It is a piece of a society of makers and users, viewers and valuers. This is another reason why we need a politics of skill: we need people to know themselves as recognised, capable, valued members of past and continuing communities of making and using, seeing and discriminating, and to be aware of the collectives’ configurations of labour-power within which their own dance of performing has value and receives confirmation and finds resource; the suchness of these people, in these times and places, for these valued ends.