For the Love of Craft
by Anna Ura, K-8th Art Teacher
This semester has rekindled my deep and longstanding love of craft. The word craft has long been distinguished from the word art and this fact has been front of mind as my students and I have been digging into the reasons behind these distinctions and who gets to decide what gets categorized as which.
Having been raised up as an artist in a “Fine Arts” context, and having attended The School of the Art Institute of Chicago — a school that places great emphasis on a heady conceptual approach to artmaking — the words “craft” and “artisan” carry some baggage for me. I have been actively trying to better understand these biases and to destigmatize them within my own art practice and I thought it was a worthwhile conversation to have with some of my older students.
The debate between art vs. craft is long and loaded — rife with prejudice, racism, misogyny, and classism. We revere one with high-yielding auctions and museum pedestals, while relegating others to “functional”, “home decor”, and platforms like Etsy. Why is this distinction made and who gets to decide which is which?
According to the Oxford Dictionary, art in its most popular usage is “the expression or application of creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting, drawing, or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power.” Compare this to the definition of craft, as “any activity involving making things by hand or by means of traditional techniques … (such as knitting, quilting, jewelry-making, etc.) carried out on a small-scale basis or as a hobby or pastime and often producing practical or decorative items for use in the home.” (Arts versus crafts: Challenging notions of worthy creations). Notice that the word creativity is not used to describe craft. (Many of us beg to differ.)
The thing is, something transformative starts to happen when we remove the critical voice from what we are making, stop worrying about contexts and the audience, and give into the processes themselves. Whether that makes the finished product of greater or lesser value will likely be debated until the end of time. But if you identify as a maker / artist / artisan / craftsperson, you likely have your own ideas about this. Any form of creativity that can connect us to something larger than ourselves, and to timeless traditions and unique creative expression, could arguably be considered of significant value.
To this end, the fifth grade just completed a unit on Yarn Bombing: “a street art or form of graffiti using textiles instead of paint.” (https://textilecurator.com/what-is-yarn-bombing/). Visiting-knitter Stead (father of Isla and Callum) came in to show us the basics of casting on and casting off and how to knit and pearl, and the kids were off and running from there.
Never have I seen a class so united in their shared passion for one medium. Every time we joined together — knitting needles in hand — we would enter “the zone”: that elusive and sought after creative space where time loses all meaning. And something else started to happen. Was it possible this ancient craft was sort of addictive? Students would ask if they could bring their knitting with them to recess, home with them when they were sick, or out during every moment between classes. When I asked students how they felt in their bodies while they’re knitting, some responses included “calm”, “peaceful”, “happy”.
According to Leigh, “One of the most beautiful and unexpected byproducts of this process was watching students turn to knitting as a restorative practice for navigating social challenges. At a point in the year when typical fifth-grade tensions rise, the rhythm of yarn and needles became a quiet anchor—helping to knit not only fabric, but a tighter, more compassionate community as students worked through their conflicts.”
You will notice the entryway at South campus looks a lot more vibrant these days, with our trees and the flag pole now lovingly adorned with cozy and bright colors of patchwork knitting.
The immersion I taught this March at the middle school was called: Shaping Ideas: A Hands-On Journey Through Clay Past to Present. In this week-long course, students dove deep into unpacking the issue of art vs. craft and noticed some very arbitrary and unfair classifications.
Clay — like textiles — is often relegated to the craft category, even though it has been used for both functional and sculptural purposes throughout its history. After challenging these constructs, we set all of that aside and got into using our hands to partake in one of the oldest forms of artistry: shaping clay.
Tapping into this timeless medium — one that connects us to the earth from which it came — we found ourselves passing the hours lost in the flow of creativity. We spent our week working with visiting artist Eunjoo Kang, visiting the ceramic studio at Watershed School, and working diligently on our projects both on campus and at Groundworks Art Lab. After significantly deepening our skills and connection to the art of ceramics, the grand finale of our week was a full day spent at The Denver Art Museum, where we scouted for all of the ceramics we could find.
We found many treasures, but the experience that transcended all others was towards the end of the day when we made our way through the China (the birthplace of ceramics) exhibit within the Arts of Asia exhibition hall. After a long day of trekking through the museum, students were starting to get a little loopy. But suddenly, a quiet descended on them as they gathered around a small vertical screen. On the screen, was a film of a man in a beautiful setting in rural China. He was working with ancient processes in order to create meticulous ceramic teacups. He gathered pebbles from a nearby stream then ground them with wood and stone tools to make his own glazes. He gathered, processed, and strained clay from the ground. He worked on a foot powered non-electric wheel to create the perfect teacups, demonstrating a mastery that students now understood takes years of dedicated practice to master.
The ooohs, aahhs, and exclamations, contrasted by silent and rapt observation, connected us through a shared experience of complete reverie. In that moment, we were connected to the artist in the film, to each other, and to something universal. Collectively, our nervous systems settled, our minds became less distracted, and we felt entirely outside of the busy hustle of everyday life. Every one of us in that moment wished we were there in that beautiful place, sharing in that creative experience, working with the same timeless tools, processes, and mastery shown in the film. Every one of us wanted to know what that feels like.
It was at that moment that I understood more fully how totally wrong our society is getting things regarding children; regarding our nonstop busy lives; regarding the incessant forcefeeding of media, entertainment, technology. Children don’t require 30 second video clips with fast and furious edits in order to stay engaged. They don’t have any issue tapping into a slower, quieter, more fully present way of being in the world. In fact they crave and need that. We all need that. The art of crafting can take us there. Tapping into our creativity, connecting with time-tested art forms (or any creative undertaking that is resonant for us) — is the ultimate antidote to our technologically-dominated way of life. The arts; the crafts; they are the answer.
(in the spirit of ancient crafts, this blog post was written without the use of AI)
