Sprezzatura: A little Italian concept with a huge impact on our work

Every so often, I encounter a word that perfectly summarizes something I've been trying to say to the world. It takes me paragraphs, then BAM. The word arrives.

This week, I discovered an Italian concept, which is perfect, because so am I. (Ciao, piacere!)

The concept is sprezzatura.

In addition to being pretty darn powerful to understand (more on that shortly), it's also really freaking fun to say.

Sprezzatura.

For the unfamiliar, the double-z in Italian sounds like "-ts" in English, as with "MOTS-a-rella" (mozzarella; though I'd also accept simply "moots.")

Sprezzatura is pronounced "SPRETS-a-toora." Fun to say. Even more fun to understand. While the direct translation is something like "studied carelessness" (typically in reference to the quality or style of someone's art or writing), the literal translation is less exciting to me than the meaning ascribed to the word.

Sprezzatura: Making hard things look easy.

Is there any better feeling as a professional? Any better sign of mastery? Anything that boosts the ego, attracts and delights an audience, and gives you that awesome jolt of, "Wow, I can do this!" or "Check me out! I'm pretty badass!"?

I'll answer these questions in Italian:

No.

There's no better feeling as a pro or signal that you're a true master than making something difficult look easy.

Sprezzatura: Making hard things look easy.

Another interpretation I heard and liked is "accomplishing difficult tasks while hiding the effort that went into them."

The word is often attributed to a guy named Baldassare Castiglione, a Renaissance era author. He was the Count of Casatico and an influential voice in the early 16th century around various European courts, thanks in large part to the book Il Cortegiano or "The Book of the Courtier," which talks about the etiquette and morality of the courtier. (A courtier is someone who attends a royal court as a companion or adviser to a king or queen. The word nerd in me cannot be stopped today...)

But while the word sprezzatura is credited to Castiglione, the idea has been around forever. Cicero practiced it in his orations, given the Stoic concept of neglentia diligens, or "studied negligence." Given when Castiglione lived, he likely admired the ancient works of the Roman poet Ovid, as many of his peers did. As Ovid said, "Ars est celare artem" ("the purpose of art is to conceal itself"). Aristotle also talked about something similar to the concept with his idea of the golden mean, which is the idea that true excellence lives in the space between extremes, never straining toward either edge. (I think a lot about how true confidence, strength, and power are both calmly held and carried, not loudly proclaimed or showy—an idea many men really need to understand, especially the most visible today. The more showy you are, the louder you are, the more aggressive you are to assert your confidence, strength, and power, the less you actually have.)

Anyway, back to Castiglione, this consigliere to courtiers. (That line makes sense if you, like me, are a word nerd.) In The Book of the Courtier, he tried to name something society admired but never defined. He referred to it as "a certain nonchalance, so as to conceal all art and make whatever one does or says appear to be without effort and almost without any thought about it." The book was written as a series of conversations among courtiers debating the qualities of the ideal nobleman. Sprezzatura won. It was declared the one universal rule of graceful behavior.

The concept then spread across Europe. Turns out Castiglione was an OG memelord.

(Don't worry, I also hated that joke.)

Raphael aimed to embody sprezzatura in paint. Mannerist sculptors like Cellini pursued it in bronze. Shakespeare and Ben Jonson wove it into their scripts and characters. (The answer is yes, I did cackle to myself writing a list like "Raphael, Cellini, Shakespeare ... Ben Jonson.")

(Next in the list, modern philosopher Ronald McDonald.)

Eventually, the Oxford English Dictionary defined this elusive but intriguing concept as "studied carelessness." But it's so much more powerful than that.

Sprezzatura also has close cousins in other languages. In French, you might say je ne sais quoi, which is a reference to someone or something that possesses a certain indescribable quality or essence. In Japanese, the word iki refers to something which is chic or stylish but subtly so, without revealing the effort that normally goes into making something chic or stylish.

So why does this matter, aside from word nerdery?

Because it's the goal. If you seek to master any craft, it's practically the dream.

You do something others find difficult but in ways that seem effortless.

I'd like to talk to you, book you, hire you, spend time with you, refer you. Because WOW, that was some sorcery. How'd you DO that?!

This concept means you can stop chasing attention and be the one others seek. You can get out of your head and merely be in the world. You can embody your ideas and hand them to others to have a real impact in the world.

It's the goal. It's the dream. It's the work.

As any true professional understands, making hard things look easy is the only real sign of true mastery. That's why we test and tinker. It's why we knowingly produce messy drafts and then work tirelessly to fix them. We gnaw and claw and scratch and snarl and sometimes skip and dance and twirl and laugh our way through all this ridiculous stuff which is required of us to be creative. It's why we endure all the trial-and-error, which can't be skipped, despite anyone selling you any kind of shortcut. It's all so that eventually, for even just a single golden moment, we feel what it's like to make hard things look easy.

It's not just creatives, either. It's any pro at the top of their game.

I think about professional athletes. Ever watch an NBA player warming up? Steph Curry might casually hit a full-court shot before heading back into the locker room. Jalen Brunson can fling the ball over his shoulder and connect, never looking back. Ever see Simone Biles sprint and waltz and flip across the floor? Allegedly, we are both human beings, when in reality, she is a literal superhero, and I just sprained my shoulder sleeping wrong.

I'm also a baseball fan. Ever witness a gorgeous swing from a home run hitter? Aaron Judge or Shohei Ohtani make countless choices in a fraction of a second as they casually wallop a screaming white blur going 100 miles an hour towards them, sending it back the other way and deep into the night with an impossible air of nonchalance.

Or how about musicians? Yo-Yo Ma is clearly an alien sent here for one purpose: to play the alien version of what we call a cello, which is equipped with the most advanced technology capable of transporting your soul into the cosmos. Also, can someone please tell me how Adele can make those sounds with the same organs I have in my upper respiratory system?

Athletes and artists, entrepreneurs and speakers, parents and landscapers, surgeons to chefs—anyone who has truly mastered what they do seem to possess a kind of sorcery mere mortals can't fathom, as these people ply their trades and deliver moments capable of inspiring legions of fans and lasting change. How?

Sprezzatura.

They make hard things look easy.

That's why we try so damn hard in the quiet. That's why we tolerate and even welcome the moments where the work isn't working and the draft is messy and the ideas are unclear and the story isn't landing. That's why we fight against outsourcing our magic or, just as terrible, hiding it away.

When you achieve sprezzatura? Chef's kiss. My friend, it's INTOXICATING. It's utterly and completely and adverbally addicting. You never want to feel anything BUT. You also never see yourself the same way. When people say, "Step into your power," at least when it comes to your craft, I think that is what they mean. You think bigger, reach higher, and have a greater impact. You differentiate easier and resonate deeper. And if you're running a business, it grows with less effort and much more momentum. Above all, you simply love the work.

It's wildly empowering, this little idea.

Starting now, when I work with an expert, author, exec, or speaker, I'm going to use this phrase. Repeatedly.

It's why we run the talk, over and over again. It's why we package our thinking as IP, codified and memorable. It's why we write the words directly, ourselves, flesh against the keys, never outsourcing our ideas or the journey towards mastery to automation. It's why we endure the hard stuff, even enjoy it. Because we are here to achieve mastery and to make magic.

Watch me go.

Watch what's possible.

Watch how good this can be.

Watch this.

Sprezzatura.