Thoughts on Craft
A basket is at its essence a container. It holds magazines and mail. But it’s also a container for our thoughts. It is a woven, physical space to place our hopes and dreams. It is a vessel made of fiber to put our fears and disappointments. It’s a fiberspace.
We just had a staff tour of Craft Spoken Here, curated by Elisabeth Agro. She is a dynamic and engaging speaker whose passion is infectious. She speaks in synch with her thoughts, or maybe a step ahead. Listening to her talk about her exhibition is kind of like going to a rock band concert – you never know when an extended riff will take you to a new place emotionally or intellectually. I am inspired.
Talking about Craft is sometimes hard. What is it? For Elisabeth, it’s about the hand. It’s about making things with great skill, great thought, and with a deep knowledge and understanding of one’s chosen material(s). Craft is contemporary art. Craft is outsider art. Craft is made by amateurs and professionally trained artists, and that’s ok. It’s all craft.
When I look at good art I feel something. I sometimes feel sad or joyful, depending on the work, the day, my mood, the company, or even how hungry/tired/stressed out I am. But if I give a piece of art time to sink in I will always feel something that I would not have felt had I been looking at a blank wall. It’s not unlike what I feel when I see a beautiful tree – when I allow myself time to absorb the whole height, weight, and age of the tree –the grooves of the bark to the knotty protruding roots all the way up the high breezy leaves – I am struck by its beauty and its unsentimentality. I always think of The Giving Tree by Shell Silversteen, and I am sad. I want to run to every tree I see and assure it that I care, that I love it, and that I will always come back.
To me, craft is as alive as a tree. I often don’t understand a piece but I still love it. In my opinion you do not need to understand to love – as an art historian I love art reflexively and unconditionally. If a work is honest – and it will always be obvious if it is – then there is always something to love about it. Like a basket, an art object is a free space to put our troubles. It is an open place to store our sadness and our joy; it has the ability to focus us, make us laugh or cry, unlock a memory, or to help us to just do nothing. Sometimes looking and really seeing, having a moment all to ourselves in our own minds, is all we need to get through the day.
We just had a staff tour of Craft Spoken Here, curated by Elisabeth Agro. She is a dynamic and engaging speaker whose passion is infectious. She speaks in synch with her thoughts, or maybe a step ahead. Listening to her talk about her exhibition is kind of like going to a rock band concert – you never know when an extended riff will take you to a new place emotionally or intellectually. I am inspired.
Talking about Craft is sometimes hard. What is it? For Elisabeth, it’s about the hand. It’s about making things with great skill, great thought, and with a deep knowledge and understanding of one’s chosen material(s). Craft is contemporary art. Craft is outsider art. Craft is made by amateurs and professionally trained artists, and that’s ok. It’s all craft.
When I look at good art I feel something. I sometimes feel sad or joyful, depending on the work, the day, my mood, the company, or even how hungry/tired/stressed out I am. But if I give a piece of art time to sink in I will always feel something that I would not have felt had I been looking at a blank wall. It’s not unlike what I feel when I see a beautiful tree – when I allow myself time to absorb the whole height, weight, and age of the tree –the grooves of the bark to the knotty protruding roots all the way up the high breezy leaves – I am struck by its beauty and its unsentimentality. I always think of The Giving Tree by Shell Silversteen, and I am sad. I want to run to every tree I see and assure it that I care, that I love it, and that I will always come back.
To me, craft is as alive as a tree. I often don’t understand a piece but I still love it. In my opinion you do not need to understand to love – as an art historian I love art reflexively and unconditionally. If a work is honest – and it will always be obvious if it is – then there is always something to love about it. Like a basket, an art object is a free space to put our troubles. It is an open place to store our sadness and our joy; it has the ability to focus us, make us laugh or cry, unlock a memory, or to help us to just do nothing. Sometimes looking and really seeing, having a moment all to ourselves in our own minds, is all we need to get through the day.
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