Art and Craft
Without denigrating art, I think it is time to honour craft.
My Father’s Work
My father is a tradesman. He does repetition turning. This is making widgets on a lathe out of metal — usually round metal bars. He can make hundreds of the one thing in a day.
He is very different to me. I am clumsy doing most things with my hands. To his credit my father recognised that we were different from a young age. When I was choosing my subjects in high school and wanted to do metal work he discouraged me and said that I “had it in my head”. I chose metal work anyway and quickly established myself at the bottom of the class.
The kind of work my father does is often regarded as a necessary evil. Social critics do not lament this kind of labour being done by machines — saying that the people so freed will be able to engage in more creative (i.e., more human) pursuits.
This isn’t entirely the way my father sees it. He doesn’t find work to be exactly unrelieved ecstasy, but on the other hand he still does some of it most days (he’s 85); it does provide some satisfactions. What kind of satisfaction? I do have a clue. Recently we were talking about why he keeps working (the financial benefits aren’t huge) and the kind of work he does. He remarked, “People say, ‘Don’t you get tired of doing the same thing over and over?’ But that’s how you get better at something.”.
What looks to me, and certain social critics, as deadening monotony doesn’t look this way to him. For him it is a process in which he is engaged. Each widget brings its own small satisfaction — and hundreds of small satisfactions in a day is no small thing.
Drawbacks of the Breadwinner Model
My father’s attitude to work is quite usual for males of his age and younger. They grew up with the breadwinner model, learned to suppress their feelings, didn’t value the labour of wives which made the breadwinner model possible, and didn’t get to spend much time with their children and so on. All of this has been much criticised — and much of the criticism I agree with.
From my experience of this model it had some pretty bad results for families, children, wives and the husbands. It was a simply awful way to organise a society. (In Australia, it is currently being promoted by our Prime Minister in the name of ‘productivity’ — i.e., people should serve the economy rather than vice versa. The difference is that women are now expected to adopt this role also.)
Craft and Art
My father pursues a craft, his trade. This is different to art. The difference I think is that art emphasises the role of the person and the uniqueness of the object produced. Artists get to be famous for producing stuff that is different to other stuff (whether a painting, dance or a building — it may look like a ball of scrunched up paper, but it sure is different!). If my father delivered a box of widgets to his customer that looked different, the customer would not be pleased! In a craft, predictability and reproduction can be valued. The role of novelty and the individual (who produces the novelty) is not emphasised.
The Virtues of Art
In a situation where people feel constrained by social forces (the increasing length of time it takes to buy a house for instance), it is natural that people will feel drawn to assert their individuality. The individual, and the novelty and innovation that they can produce, is of irreplaceable value I think. If life at anything like a comfortable level is to be sustainable on our planet then we need innovation like never before.
This means giving a privileged place to trying out innovations. This means giving a privileged place to failure. Most innovations don’t work, but this doesn’t mean they are not valuable. Why something fails can be immensely instructive. We need places where individuals are supported to try things out.
And this means revising our systems of reward — everywhere from “schools” to government programs which want guaranteed outcomes.
The Virtues of Craft
A craftsperson does one thing repeatedly — making a widget, putting one brick on another, executing a dance: they do it over and over again, because this is how they get better at it. And that’s the payoff — the quality of what is done.
With a craft there can be quite useful procedures and drills. The tradition is emphasised ,and it provides a resource of ways to do what the craftsperson wants to do. There are vocal exercises to develop the voice, different openings in a chess game, different ways to use words in a poem. In art, the role of the individual is emphasised; with a craft, the individual is de-emphasised, and the focus is the quality of the product.
Craft emphasises the incremental and the long-term. It can take many years to learn a craft, and this is mostly time spent doing the same thing and getting better at it little by little. This can be a liberation for an individual. Someone pursuing a craft doesn’t need to produce something unique or revolutionary, just good work. If someone is willing to put in the time and effort, then they will likely be able to produce good work. In this sense craft is more democratic than art. It doesn’t, however, negate quality — every craft recognises good and bad work. Without denigrating art, I think it is time to honour craft.
I would like to hear about the role of a craft in your life. Do you pursue a hobby or trade? If so, how has it affected your experience? I am very much looking forward to hearing from you.
Other articles by Evan Hadkins
This article was last reviewed by Dr Greg Mulhauser, Managing Editor on Tuesday, 23rd February 2010.
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https://counsellingresource.com/features/2010/02/23/art-and-craft/
25th February 2010
Hi Evan,
You bring up a subject that can be both satisfying and painful, sometimes at the same time. I noticed you included dance, as an example of proficiency at a craft instead of an art that many would classify dance.
I realized there are a lot of those types of crossovers. When I was very young I learned to cook out of necessity. Yet, once I was cooking, I realized there were many doors I could open, places and things I could explore. Doors that could be the create-from-nothing expression I sought, the artist’s path.
That’s one place where both the satisfaction and pain came from. I taught myself a lot about food, the related tools, ethnicity and many other aspects of cooking as craft. I had a lot of what if moments, too. I cooked in a professional capacity for many years, learned from others doing the same. As you pointed out, learned to turn out the expected perfectly turned widget. Working to that end can have its rewards, people can be more than appreciative in the effort of a lovely meal. I could do the work and know my effort and precision would work unfailingly, providing personal satisfaction.
At the same time, the repetition could be deadening. I’d see the doors I wanted open, the art somehow removed the craft, freedom to take food from necessity, and even pleasure, steps beyond. I tried applying my skill in my personal life, thinking maybe that’s where I’d find my balance and outlet. Only to find I’d run into much the same wall as professional application. Did I aspire to be a famous chef? A cookbook author? Not necessarily. I also knew I could not repeat creating one more sit down dinner for 10 people in my home nor a formal celebration for 300, no matter what anyone got from it. Letting my desire go, to transition my craft to an art form was painful.
It is an interesting and often frustrating dilemma, one I’ve struggled to resolve for myself time and again, and not only with a crossover art/craft such as cooking. If you figure out the way to an alternate path, please let us all know!
All that said, cooking as a craft taught me a lot about a lot, not limited to food alone, and I am grateful to have done this work. I will always have everything I garnered and can continue to share the benefits as necessity or pleasure.
Thanks, Evan, for another thought provoking article.
Barbara
25th February 2010
Hi Barbara, thanks for sharing so much of your experience so well. To talk about the transition from craft to art I think I’d need to know more of the details of what you found painful. Also what you couldn’t do anymore – was it the repetition or had the result lost meaning for you too? Had you gotten what it was that you wanted and so a need was satisfied?
Many thanks for your comment.
2nd March 2010
Hi Evan
Some answers to your questions.
I think the repetition became drudgery, maybe no challenge, or both. The phrase that comes to me is, doing it in my sleep. Not vaguely related to a dream. I’m going to have to presume this might be a personal issue for me, because it is not only this instance I have reached this point of cringing, don’t make me, I can’t do it again. Definitely painful. Both the idea of being forced into a box and seeing something go, having to let go, an activity that started out with enthusiasm, hope, good intent, potential. Next phrase I hear, is that all there is?
More specific to cooking and your question, did I get what I wanted? I think the answer is ultimately no. I wanted cooking to be an additional thing I could do well but I’m not sure to what end, not necessarily THE thing I could do well. I guess I relegated cooking too much to necessity, I mean, ya gotta eat, right? Might as well be good if not great food. Can I say I mastered some stuff in cooking? Yes, of course. Did I have times of enjoyment? Yes, again. I even experienced being in the zone regularly, yet it did stop being a meditation at times. Did I come to some feeling of completion other than feeling stuck? No, not really, or at least no satisfactory end. Maybe because I still have to eat…
As far as transitioning, now that I think about it, I guess I never really saw the brass ring. Maybe I needed mentoring to help me, possibly couldn’t find it? What did I want to do with this skill I had acquired? Again, maybe in direct relation to personal circumstances and desires. Not having found the art/craft/profession/goal I most wanted to master or specialize in, maybe I felt like cooking was second best? Pain then in still searching or the realization I may never find THE thing? You could call settling a painful aspect,too. It also doesn’t help when those on the outside observed or stated I should be grateful to be such a good cook, do something with that talent, as if the dinner they just enjoyed wasn’t doing something with that talent. Maybe expectation, mine or others, there needed to be something spectacular added a la Julia Child. Raised then to an art level?
I don’t think I really answered your questions definitively, or as definitively as I would like. I think I wanted to hear the answers as well. Maybe I needed to delve a little deeper.
Thanks for taking me a different direction here, Evan.
Barbara
2nd March 2010
Thanks Barbara. It sounds like you ended up at a dead end and no one was around to help you move things to the next level. Quite sad perhaps. Many thanks for letting us know about your experience.