The word Craft is both a noun and a verb, and the difference between the two has often been as problematic as the terms ‘craft’ and ‘art’. In her new edited volume, Craft. Documents of Contemporary Art, Tanya Harrod, states, “Craft is a contested concept, a word with almost too many associations” (12). Harrod points out that historically, the ‘Arts and Crafts synthesis’ did not have a wide following in the various schools of art in the twentieth century as the norm for both teaching, learning, and making abandoned the idea of inter-disciplinary or multi-disciplinary practice or making.
Compartmentalisation became the standard or, as it is often termed today, silos were built where the crafts were cut off from ‘fine art’. Even though individuals can be heard to say, ‘I thought that debate was over’, the divide was “rigorously policed” (Harrod, 14). In the 1980s, many who worked with ceramics began to abandon the vessel form in favour of hand building while at the same time jewellers chose not to use precious materials in the hope of being accepted by the fine art world. Recently, craft writer and theorist, Glenn Adamson, has sought to find ways in which individuals could cross over any barrier in their thinking. His new book, The Hidden Wisdom of Objects. Fewer, Better, Things examines craft as both a noun and a verb and includes a close consideration of objects held in the Tucumcari Historical Museum such as cattle brands and barbed wire. He says, “I don’t think it’s idealistic to suggest that an encounter such as this [visiting a very local historical museum] can …at least establish the possibility of shared respect and understanding” (184). As the former head of research at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London, England and the director of the Museum of Arts and Design in New York, now the Senior Scholar at the Yale Centre for British Art, Adamson is no stranger to the cultural divide that still exists between the craft and art worlds. In his latest offering, Adamson argues that we need to evoke some kind of collective memory, to find the things that each has in common and to come to a space of shared respect and understanding (184).
In the past couple of weeks, I have been engaged in the act of tidying my cupboards. Most of you will be aware of Marie Kondo and her methods of organisation that help spark joy in individuals lives. One of the categories of her sorting is ‘sentimental items’. In my large Chinese cupboard, I have two stacks of objects. The intricate crochet work with the detailed pineapple pattern on several dozen doilies was the handiwork of my paternal grandmother, Beulah Sipes Duncan. The embroidery work was done by my maternal grandmother, Maud Bruesch Daniel. Maud also embroidered the many quilts that cover the beds in my house and fill at least one cupboard. As a child growing into a teenager, I became acutely aware of how much the arthritis in her fingers impacted her ability to embroider. Still, every day she would sit in her rocker embroidering everything from quilt squares to tea towels. The detail in the stitches changed as she aged. Over time she abandoned the tiny French knots for longer cross stitches. Neither of my grandmothers had any training in textiles. They would have, at one time or another, earned the adjective ‘amateur’. I would argue, as Adamson does, that is no reason to dismiss the labour of these women. Using the verb ‘craft’, however, their making was as precise and beautiful as someone categorised as a professional. To this day, it is alarming to me to hear the work of women dismissed simply because they are not pursuing their craft as a vocation. It is time, perhaps, that the verb ‘craft’ came into play. As makers we need to educate the consummer on the difference between something well made by hand or by hand using some tools (my potters wheel is, afterall, nothing but a tool) and that work put together from industrially made parts and sold as being an original, creative idea! It is comforting to know that craft – the noun – is being re-examined. Within the broader spectrum of art, materials generally associated with work are becoming part of a larger sphere of socially engaged projects and materials such as clay or glass are finding new possibilities in the world of art.
And this brings me to the purpose of today’s blog, and that is to suggest to you that if you are in Winnipeg that you stop by the Manitoba Craft Council on Cumberland Street to see the exhibition For the Love of Craft. The gallery showcases the work of the organisations’ members. The offerings are diverse, many of them quite humorous and range from those just beginning their journey of making to more established members such as Keith Oliver, Grace Nickel, and Kathryne Koop (and myself). The gallery is open Wednesday through Saturday from 12-4, and the show is up until February 23.
Included is Family Picnic by Gayle Buzzi, an MFA student in her final year at the School of Art, University of Manitoba. Buzzi works in various media and set about creating a space at the School where she could cast glass. She also took advantages of the decades of knowledge of Ione Thorkelsson, one of the founding members of the Manitoba Craft Council, who set up her glass making studio in southern Manitoba in the early 1970s. Buzzi’s piece consists of two cast glass and frit geese.
Ursula Neufeld submitted Checkered Past, a multimedia work that had lots of visitors curious and giggling.
The variety represented the range of creative endeavours in our city from the intricate and decorative ceramics of Koop to the book making and binding of Debra Frances Plett’s, Stories of the Forest.
Stop in, look around, maybe join the Craft Council or take part in one of the many making workshops that are happening this winter.