Thoughts on making
vincentsanders.blogspot.co.uk
vincentsanders.blogspot.co.uk
Everything has been done. There is a better technique and better tool and reference design for everything you will ever think of.
For amateur, this overload of information can prevent you actually doing anything, especially in the physical world where anything you do must respect the laws of physics (varnish needs to dry, cannot just set the boolean to true).
Talking from my experience in hobby jewellery making. Only read about something when you fail to do it or after you have done something. Otherwise you will end up like me, spending my free time watching youtube tutorial after youtube tutorial and not touching my workbench.
On the one hand, I find the rebranding to be self-aggrandizing and kind of funny. Your dad went out and worked in the garage just because he wanted some time alone, and probably enjoyed working with wood, and got some satisfaction from building something. It seems this narrative is no longer good enough for us, and the same act elicits a greater investment of one's identity, one that partakes of the cultural mystique of the artist: One is not merely a hobbyist furniture maker, or robot builder, or computer programmer -- one is.... A Maker.
On the other hand, whether you think this is a shift for better or for worse, I do think it's worth noting and reflecting on. It is recent -- I've only really been struck by it within the past few years -- and it seems related to the ever-growing ascendancy of computers and technology within mainstream culture, and an attendant rise of power for nerd/geek culture.
I personally do cringe a bit at "Maker" the same way I cringe at using "creative" as a noun but it has value.
But this post in particular was a nice contrast with that, a defence of not having to analyze one's own design influences.
The novelty of doing something that appears to be 'new' can blind you to the fact that people have been doing it for millions of years. The only difference is that you now can blog.
I dislike the amount of "post rationalisation" that goes with arts critique. See the movie "Room 237"[1] as a great example of this. Some of them sound reasonable, and make sense. And some of them just sound ridiculous, and tenuous, and make very little sense. And because Kubrick is dead and didn't tell us what he meant there's little way for us to know if these people's imaginings about his film are in any way correct or not.
I tend to go a bit too far the other way. I know someone who, when at school and asked "Why did that character do that thing?" would answer "because that's what the author wrote" which is correct, but not what an English comprehension teacher wants to hear.
We had a couple of people like that show up to my old space in Philadelphia (garsh, I miss it). My favorite was the writer who thought he was liberal enough to drop the "N"-word ironically.
It's this sort of artist's attitude that was one of the reasons I got out of fine art in the first place. I never fit in with the other artists because, for me, the construction of the thing and the experience was reason enough to do it, not because I had any thing to "say" by the creation of it or the style I chose.
I suppose it would have been nice to have known where the cultural meme of flat-pack plywood furniture had come from to influence you to think it was a cool idea to try it. Or hell, maybe you did come up with the idea in a near-vacuum: I don't think it's impossible that you could have found yourself in the same conditions as the Eames' to then come to the same conclusions.
But that's kind of the whole F/OSS point on copyleft and anti-patents. Ideas, on their own, are almost worthless. The value of a thing is largely in the execution of it. If the execution of the thing does not lend itself to a lot of value, then the idea wasn't very valuable to begin with.
These people, who want to nitpick what you do and find any way they can criticize you (you don't have the right tools, you don't have the right process, you don't have the right reason), they're doing it out of jealousy. They have found themselves, for one reason or another, incapable of performing the way you do. Maybe they can't manage their procrastination and ever get anything done, or they don't have the patience for detail work and their stuff comes out crooked, or maybe they are capable, but only after extreme effort.
Never, ever let those people discourage you. Their criticism is their own insecurity. They see your work and feel it reflects on them and shows them as a failure. Just ignore them and keep working. Keep making.
Stop trying to come up with some general theory about all critics who don't build. Some of them will be tools, others have a unique skill. A good example is Pauline Kael, legendary movie critic, who wrote more than a few lines about the role of her profession not simply as a foil for the artist.
It seems to me that the critic's task should be to help people see more in the work than they might see without him. That's a modest function, and you don't need a big theory for it.
There are a million factors that influence execution (luck and randomness are not insignificant either), and there is no natural reason why the critic and the executioner need to be the same agent.
There is a huge difference between a critic and a jerk showing up providing unsolicited criticism. If you publish a movie to the public, you should expect to receive criticism. If you're working on something for yourself in your hackerspace, that's not really an invite to tear you apart.