I've been looking at blogs and Flickr pools a lot the past few weeks, especially those related to gardening, knitting, and general crafting -- mostly to blow off steam at work when I need to look at something pretty for 10 minutes before diving back into a writing or editing project.
The various knitting pools and groups on Flickr, and a lot of the bigger knitting blogs, are totally fascinating and so
far I've noticed several really interesting trends: 1) Balls and skeins of yarn posed and photographed as if they were food, in bowls and often with actual food 2) Calling arty photographs of yarn "yarn porn" and describing pictures of unusued yarn collections as "stash flashes" (though maybe that's a reference to a camera flash and not the other kind) 3) Pervasive sheepishnes about large yarn collections and big purchases at yarn stores -- though I feel like its not a revelation anymore to note that women, still, consistently berate themselves for indulging or overindulging in something they enjoy, be it yarn or food, 4) The frequent use of cutsey precious language to praise other people's work.
And the knitty bloggers and Flickr-ers are largely, though not entirely, women. No surprises there.
Please don't get me wrong, I like to knit. And I have several badass knitter friends (not all women) who regularly make totally amazing things. I'm inclined to agree that the appeal of knitting and crochet is that it offers a simple way to create hand made objects, and that it can often be meditative and relaxing (once you get past the snarly learning phase). I also agree with people who have noted that knitting is a reclaiming of an old, even pre-industrial creative form that that was often women's work. I know from experience that knitting feels good and somehow old and like it has a lot to offer -- and that it's nice to give things you've made to the people you love.
But knitting and crochet also surf -- and this is where I think a lot of the dynamism comes in -- a line between the domestic and the artistic. How many people who knit -- especially people who make up patterns and dye and spin their own wool -- identify as artists? Some definitely do, and some of the bloggers are really articulate about it. But my sense is that a lot of them would be quicker to describe themselves as "crafty" and to describe what they do as a craft.
My desktop dictionary defines a craft is "something made by hand" and Wikipedia describes it as a "practical art." Both emphasize skill and a certain amount of visual appeal, but its clear that a craft is something that is useful and not beautiful or moving for the sake of being beautiful or moving (like, say, a painting).
I kind of think -- and this is not a new idea-- that the distinction between craft and art is a little arbitraty and definitely gendered. I'm not trying to lump felt-and-glue tea cozies in with Picassos, but seeing as how for so long women were masters of a lot of domestic crafts -- sewing, knitting, crochet, food, etc. -- and how most cultures, at least traditionally, used ornmentation of everday objects to communicate and reflect cultural and religious feeling, calling things "crafts" and considering them below art seems like a way of devaluing women's work. There's a class component too -- even though you can be an artist without going to art school, I think traditionally being, say, a painter or sculptor assumed a different kind of training and clientele than being a furniture maker (for men, being apprenticed), or sewer (learning from your mom).
To bring this back to knitting, it seems to me that a lot of the language around knitting on Flickr that implies sex, naughty-ness, excess and indulgence is bizarrely reinforcing knitting as a female practice and as "not totally serious." And while I'm not ready to extoll the artistic value of every hand made chunky scarf I've ever seen, it seems to me that the several-years-old knitting craze is a good opportunity to think and talk about different art forms and traditions and to scout out and claim a re-articulation and practice of art in the everday.
That's my feminist class-based analysis for the day. Knitters of the world, unite. You're artists, and we all need art.
*Thanks to EPS for the knitted uterus and fallopian tubes!
4 comments:
What a fantastic, thoughtful post! Sometimes I get frustrated by all these efforts to make what I think of as a timeless art into something hip and edgy. But I had not put my finger on the additional damage of employing this kind of rhetoric. Thanks.
I feel the need to point out that anyone can knit their own womb by following the instructions at knitty.
And apparently they make great gifts , since I got a fairly lengthy "thank you, you're awesome" phone message in return.
But I'm wouldn't consider it art, especially since I was following a pattern. I think it's when we create our own patterns (including freeform), or create our own yarn (by spinning or dying), that knitting can become art.
Hi. I just found this post and wanted to give you a thumbs up. I knit (a little) and crochet (much more), along with other fiber arts - spinning, weaving, felting, braiding, sewing, etc. I have my current projects sitting beside me as I type: a crochet lace shawl in a style passed down through my mother's family, a hat in the sort of crochet that my dad's mother taught me (much more solid than my mom's family's style), a mitten done in naalbinding, and some handpainted wool that I'm spinning on the Turkish spindle.
It totally frustrates me to see women devaluing our own creations, even as I know that I sometimes do so. I see a friend of mine selling her weaving for a price that works out somewhere below minimum wage.
And while, yes, I am working in styles passed down through the women on both sides of my family, I am also creating something new with each of these, and am totally willing to call what I am doing art. And by calling what I do art, I'm recognizing that what my mother, aunts, grandmothers, and so on back into antiquity... what they did is also art. I'm saying that I got my feel for color from my Great Aunt Marie, who always dressed well on a limited budget. I got my sense of rhythm from my Great Aunt Tressa, who makes lace to keep her mind fresh.
The distinction between "art" and "craft" is blurry, at best. However, when referring to my own handiwork, I tend to think of it as "craft" unless it shows a certain level of expertise AND uniqueness of result. I find it hard to consider something "art" when I essentially repeat an existing pattern, no matter how gorgeous the result. Much like the eternal art-history class assignment of copying Van Gogh's "Sunflowers."
I think, though, the lower value placed on fiber work is a direct result of the disposable nature of fashion, as well as OUR OWN reluctance to highly value items that will, by their nature, be worn out or discarded within a short time. Since clothing trends come and go with such rapidity, it's difficult to give clothing the kind of respect we give to other forms of handiwork. Now, if it's a classic style in heirloom quality materials, it might make the cut. But I don't think many crafters (artists) would want to attach the emotional weight of "art" to an eyelash scarf or a pair of felted slippers. Because we know, on some level, that no matter how much energy we put into these, eventually someone will stain them, or tear them, or send them off to Goodwill or the animal shelter, or trash them, or frog them or cut them up to make something else entirely.
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