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Monday's Glory and the 4th Order of CraftVersion 2.0, © 2007 by Dale Cotton, all rights reserved CraftI'm a cave man; the date is 10,000 BC; and I want to make an spear head. I hit one piece of flint with another piece. If I knock off a chip that is roughly triangular in shape, that's good. That's the 1st order of craft – getting in the right ball park. The spear head serves me well; the bobcat is my breakfast instead of vice versa; and after years of practice I can do much better. I can knock off a chip of about the right size and shape two tries out of ten, and I can successfully feather the edges on at least one out of twenty heads. That's the 2nd order of craft – competence. More years pass; my reflexes are now too slow and my stamina too short to hunt; no matter; younger hunters bring me food in exchange for my spear heads. Each one is the same weight and size as the previous one, which means the user can transfer reflexes established by throwing previous spears directly to throwing a new spear. That's the 3rd order of craft – excellence. Yet more years pass. Now I'm an old man; most of my teeth are missing; and – most rare in such hard times – I've survived into my white-haired years. My spear heads are now not just valued but treasured. Each is deemed an exquisite work of art; both chieftan and shaman wear one of my spear heads on a necklace as their badge of authority. And that of course is the final, the 4th, order of craft – transcendence. No one achieves the 4th order out of competitiveness and ego, however much these impulses may have started one upon the path. At some point we pass from competing against others to competing with ourselves and from there our motivation gradually transmutes into an ever crisper vision of what excellence means in our particular endeavour. When that happens all we can think about is how to realize that vision. Fig. 2: (12,000 years later) Edward Weston: Excusado In the visual arts there are actually two distinct endeavours to master: what you portray and how you portray it. This is particularly clear in photography. Taking a picture involves one set of tools and one set of skills; turning it into a print involves a completely separate suite of tools and skills. (Fig. 2 was done by a chap who is as widely renown for his printing as he is for his camera work.) It's quite possible to have a superbly executed print of an image remarkable mainly for its banality, and vice-versa. (In fact, I'm sure I have some good examples of both lying around here somewhere. Just a sec' while I dig them up... ;) CompensationWhile my little parable of the paleolithic flint knapper suggests that quality and compensation run hand in hand, we all know – and none better than did Van Gogh – how little true that can be. If you are looking for a bit of recognition there are several endeavours not to pursue it in. At the top of that list is poetry with the visual arts catching up fast. In the time of Rembrandt, when there were perhaps a few hundred million people on the planet; any picture was uncommon; a good picture was rare; and a great picture was super-rare. Now there are 6.6 billion people on the planet; we're flooded with pictures of all sorts; a good picture is very common; and great pictures are everywhere. Anyone who wants to can have a (decent reproduction of a) Rembrandt hanging on her wall for a few dollars. As a culture, let alone as individuals, we haven't even begun to absorb the implications of this sea change. Who is the famous super-star painter, like Rembrandt or Picasso, alive today? But there is yet another sea change at work. While poetry, painting, and photography are all fast paths to poverty (must be something about the letter P), yet the opportunity still exists to see your name in lights as a singer-songwriter or as a motion picture director. Today's audience demands of the poet that she add melodist to her lyricist credentials; and of the painter or photographer that he add motion and time to the static instant of his vision. Not that the next generation of singer-songwriters and motion picture directors should expect the same opportunity for fame and fortune as this generation has had. The end of those two windows of opportunity is already waiting in the wings. Monday's glory is Tuesday's trash. So, if you have perchance become addicted to that quaint and old-fashioned endeavour known as the visual arts, I do hope you can derive sufficient reward from your own knowledge of a job well done, perhaps seasoned with the keen appreciation of a handful of like-minded craftspersons. Because I can guarantee you that any dreams you may have for yourself or for your pictures of immortal glory are destined to remain just that ... dreams. CodaWalking past the bedroom dresser mirror just now I caught a glimpse of myself in my scrubby clothes, inseparable cloth cap, with greying Van Dyke. All I am is a little old craftsman like Geppetto; all I do is make pretty pictures instead of toys carved out of wood. All I lack is a grimy apron. Fig. 4: Rembrandt, self portrait, 1640 Rembrandt often wore a hat or cap in his self portraits, cocked at a jaunty angle; but what I see is a man struggling with an identity problem. I assume he came from the peasantry but had struggled to achieve success, which in those days meant hob-nobbing with the blue bloods and the emerging merchant class. He is dressed as a bit of a dandy but seems to wear the outfit self-consciously. A bit of guilt in the eyes – is this really me? Am I betraying my roots? We living now in the first world are just the opposite of this. We are born to what a 1640's peasant would have called wealth – wealth beyond anything our stone age flint knapper could have imagined. We have the luxury of free time and resources to pursue the foppish pastime called fine art. What is our role when society has not asked us to create yet more pictures in a world already full of pictures? I have been looking for an identity that I can respect; and I reject artist as dandy, as well as artist as intelligentsia outcast. But humble wood carver fits very comfortably. Maybe I'll sign my prints Geppetto from now on.
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