Cathy Haynes on the Fear of the Amateur

I’ve just chanced across a copy of The 1951 Gadgets Annual. It gives five hundred useful and ‘ingenious hobby ideas’. They include how to build a ukulele, turn an old felt hat into a shoe-sock, pose live fish for photographs, ‘titivate’ a bath mat and draw a silhouette portrait of the wife (‘… pose the wife between a sheet of paper and a strong light … Draw round the outline of this shadow, and let the wife relax …’).

 

Gadgets, with its mania for the homespun and its assumption that it’s not talking to the wife, is fascinating. But, as I flick through its pages, I am distracted by an unexpected sense of disquiet over its espousal of all things amateur. True, I’m suspicious of its invitation to ‘Be Your Own Electrician’ and chemical engineer – I think there are laws against that now. But something else is troubling me. Who, I ask myself, would dare make a wedding present of a papier-maché fruit display? Who would sport a miniature homemade flower vase on their lapel? Who would try to bamboozle their guests with ‘The Puzzling Bran-Canister’ trick? Not me! For I am suffering from a form of cultural cringe, a symptom of a contemporary collective embarrassment toward handicraft and hobbies. 

Nowadays we believe we can buy much better things than we could produce ourselves, and getting what we want requires no more effort than a barely prehensile prod at a keypad. We have become consummate consumers, gourmets of culture, super-spectators, and our sophistication as audience-critics has out-stripped our making and performing skills. But the old hobbies, games and handicrafts haven’t disappeared. Instead they’ve changed from something we do into something we watch. TV programmes on DIY themes from cooking to home makeovers to ballroom dancing have professionalised the amateur: the old parlour games are played by professional entertainers, while amateur performers compete for the affirmation of fame and a professional contract. And so, whether we judge ourselves lacking the wit of TV quiz panellists at one extreme or gawk at the humiliation of talent show competitors at the other, most of us daren’t risk it ourselves.

 

We fear the amateur in case it causes us to loose face and look uncool. But at the root of the word amateur is the Latin amare, to love. An amateur pursuit is something we have genuine passion for, regardless of how we look to the outside world. By abandoning it, we lose the pleasure of doing something that is playful, creative, absorbing, and solely for itself.

 

So – for reasons of professional experiment, you understand – I’m going to try out some of those Gadgets ideas. And secretly I hope the process will release some of that joy of manual craft and ingenuity that I most fully felt in childhood. Who cares if my efforts are a bit shoddy? Only I’m going to see them. Oh, and my loved ones. Brace yourselves, family of mine, if you’re reading. If you play your cards right, you might get a lapel vase for a present.

 

Cathy Haynes teaches the Play course at The School of Life.

Places are still available on our six week Play course commencing on 10 November - 15 December, please go to our website for more details and to book.

 

 

 

Comments

[S. M. Hoffmann]

This discussion makes me think of Kamikaze Girls, in which the main character is a supremely gifted embroiderer. After she decorates one beautiful dress for her favorite designer, she declines his job offer. She explains that she would rather buy than make beautiful clothes, because it's a "more extravagant lifestyle."

[Betsy]

Cathy, you are running around with the wrong crowd. Or perhaps I am - but in the US it is easy to find large groups of people - womens and men - who are reclaiming the handmade as self-expression, countercultural protest, and a way to add personality and whimsey - to life, and to embue objects with a story beyond "Target was having a sale".

There's a movement away from the cultural cringe, with its own aestetic values, tracts (Make magazine) saints (Kate Gilbert, a creator of knitting patterns) web international meetinghouses (Etsy, craftster, Ravelry, Knitty) and local cells (Charm City Craft Mafia, Maker Faire, Crafty Bastards, and nearly every cafe and bookstore, where people gather on some weeknight to create and gab with like-minded amatuers.

I myself have only made one wedding present.

There's also a bridge that blurs the lines between amatuer and professional - Etsy.com. Where you can PURCHASE amatuer goods of all sorts.

I think the web - and the way that I can "meet" thousands of likeminded amatuers and see what they've been working on, all from the comfort of my bed - has brought amatuerism into it's own.

Have you see the film Coraline? A thoroughly professional production, to be sure, but every frame is full of handmade beauty. When I saw it, I scrawled the words "Etsy aestetic" on my hand.

[Mummy Zen]

An interesting article and I think you are right. Is it also the issue of time that stops people trying out amateur pursuits? In a world where we can pretty much get what we want immediately, do people think they don't have time to make things or that by the time they've started to assemble something, they could have just gone and bought it (and therefore saved time)? Of course it's spending time on something and getting lost in time working on a pursuit that is part of the enjoyment I think.

I've only just come across The School of Life blog but am glad I did - some great reading here.