Dissertation draft 3

The Renaissance of Chalkboarding: Why are craft processes still relevant in this digital age?

Over the last decade technological advances have been coming thick and fast. From the
plethora of social media platforms now available to us, to production methods such as digital
printing and the bezier curve. Why in this age of ease do we as designers, creatives and
unquestionably as audience, search and respond to the crafted, the artisan and the hand made?
There is no doubt that craft is a quintessential part of the contemporary cultural landscape.
The persistent pull of disciplines such as letterpress, lettering and the creation of websites
such as Etsy are testament to this. More people than ever are making and buying crafted
objects.

Since the eighteenth century, and definitely long before, craft processes have been a constant
undertone of our cultural landscape. At some points more noticeable than others, but always
there and always ready to resurface. It is my belief that this consistent demand for the
handmade, is a result of us, striving for true closeness in an increasingly alienated society,
coming to a head in this digital and most alienated of eras.

Chapter one will focus on establishing an understanding of alienation in its different forms,
progressing through different Marxist theorists. This Marxist standpoint has been assumed
not only because it is a cornerstone for current ideas of alienation, but also because it cites a
cause; capitalism. This provides a fascinating context in which to examine craft, because it
simultaneously shuns and partakes in consumerism.

Alienation is a concept rooted in Marx and the industrial revolution. As technology has
advanced, so has alienation, helped along the way by concurrent generations of Marxist
theorists. Through researching and understanding the progression of these theories, four
distinct areas of alienation can be identified: physical, social, emotional and temporal. As
William Morris (1878, p 41) says ‘the remedy lies with the handicraftsman’ and indeed for
each of these types of alienation, crafts can bee seen to facilitate proximity.

Chapter two will focus on physical proximity facilitated by craft, meaning closeness of the
craftsperson to the object and how an audience interacts with it. The romance of the hand
made, and the imperfections of a crafted object. Because the Arts and Crafts movement is
central to this physical act of making, The main texts used in this chapter are works by
William Morris (1878) (The Decorative Arts: Their Relation To Modern Life and Progress
Delivered Before The Trades’ Guild Of Learning) and John Ruskin (1857) (The Stones of
Venice).

Chapter three examines social proximity, in terms of the social closeness and interaction
created between craftspeople when skill sharing, which is an inherent part of the craft
process. As well as the social interaction between the craftsperson and audience through the
medium of the craft object. The recent changes in social proximity will be looked at using

texts from Morris and David Gauntlet (2011) (Making is Connecting) touching on the recent
role of social media.

Chapter four is angled towards emotional proximity, meaning the effort and care expired
during creation of a craft object and the emotional response of the audience. Once again,
Morris (1878) is central, with the arts and crafts ideals of making being part of a good life.
Imogen Racz (2009) (Contemporary Crafts) also is a lynch pin of this chapter, introducing
the concept of Flow and the mental effect of making.

Chapter five discusses temporal proximity. This means historical awareness and
understanding of the past as context for the now. In terms of nostalgia and the way that
alienation from our past, romanticizes history. How the distance we feel from our own
historical context commodifies trying to be close to it. Christopher Frayling (2011) and his
book Craftsmanship: Towards a New Bauhaus, facilitates deeper analysis of this concept, by
condemning seeing craft as a reactionary force.

As previously mentioned, in order to explore the role of proximity in craft, one must first
establish the presence of alienation. A clear path can be traced from the physical alienation of
labour and Karl Marx, to the temporal alienation of Friedrich Jameson and Pastiche, passing
Guy Debord and Jean Baudrillard on the way.

When striving to understand physical alienation, Karl Marx and his writings Capital
(2008[1867]) and the Economic and Physical manuscripts of 1844 (2000[1844]) are what
instantly come to the fore as seminal texts. More Specifically for my purposes ‘Marx
understood alienation as something rooted in the material world’ (Cox, 1998). Marx believed
that Physical alienation was the earliest and most deeply ingrained form, because of its
connection to how we work or labour. Marx saw labour as our ‘species being’ (Fischer, 1996,
p37), the central feature of us as a race, which differentiated us from animals and connected
us as ‘the only consistent feature of all human societies’ (Cox, 1998). Marx saw alienation in
the way we labour as a sign of a failing society, basically a capitalist society, which alienated
people from their surroundings. All of Marx’s writing centres around the flaws in capitalist
structures, and although this doesn’t make his ideas on alienation any less valid, it is worth
noting to allow a true reading.

In Capital Marx explains why labour is such a cornerstone of the human condition because it
‘alters not only the natural world, but also the labourer himself’ (Cox, 1998). It's a reciprocal,
dynamic process which improves all parties. More importantly it is the consciousness of the
labourer which allows improvement, as Marx points out ‘what distinguishes the worst
architect from the best of bees is this, the architect raises his structure in his imagination
before he erects it in reality’ (Marx, 2008 [1867], p116). The simple act of imagining what

you could create, is incredibly powerful and holds the promise of greater and evolving
creation. This is explained by Fischer (1996, p32 ) in How to Read Karl Marx, in which he
states that ‘The first recognition of the fact that the world can be changed by conscious
activity contains all future as yet unknown’. In short the physical act of a labourer working is
positive and develops the man and his world. Simultaneously uniting the worker, the object
and the labourer and his surroundings.

The division of labour distances man from the object of his labour, and in so doing distances
him from his surroundings. Rather than creating a cohesive whole object, he is forced to
create one fragment of the whole object. Realising ‘only one or two aspects of their human
powers at the expense of all the others’ (Cox, 1998). A clear analogy can be made using the
objects created through the division of labour, to show the alienation caused by such; If a
factory worker is creating one screw for an object and no other part of it, it is as if the man
himself were the screw, doing his one job well but completely alienated from the full function
of the united object. Ruskin (1960 [1851], p127) noticed just this during the height of the
division of labour in England saying ‘it is not truly speaking, the labour that is divided but the
men’. This process repeats itself at an increasingly large scale as production grows and
stimulates further alienation as man himself ‘becomes an object’ (Marx, 1844) that ‘becomes
a power on its own confronting him.’

Marx expands on this idea saying that post production, it is the capitalist structures of
commodities which alienate us further from our physical surroundings. ‘a commodity is an
external object, a thing which through its qualities satisfies human needs of whatever kind’
(Marx, 2008 [1867], p13). However, Marx expands on this by creating the term ‘commodity
fetishim’ in which a product ‘transcends sensuousness’ as it becomes a commodity and
leaves its ‘use value’ behind, ‘as if value’ (Felluga, 2012d) were ‘inherent in the objects
themselves, rather than in the amount of real labor expended to produce the object.’ The
creation of commodities and most importantly the demand for them ‘transforms relationships
between producers into relationships between the commodities they produce.’ (Cox, 1998)
Causing continuous alienation at all stages where people interact with the objects created, ‘it
is a definite social relation between men, that assumes, in their eyes, the fantastic form of a
relation between things.’ (Marx, 2008 [1867], p43). However, E. Lunn (1984, p26) in
Marxism and Modernism, cites a possible pitfall in this blanket alienation; stating ‘we cannot
reduce art to exchange rates reflecting the pervasive alienation’. Is it possible that the art and
design world is one area that at least attempts to escape commodification because of the
psychological importance applied to the objects created in this world? In contradiction to this
Cox (1998) claims that it is folly to explain alienation ‘in terms of psychology rather than the
organisation of society.’ So, for my purposes Marx and physical alienation can stay purely in
the realms of the physical.

The link between physical and social alienation is tangible. This is reflected in The Society of
the Spectacle by Guy Debord (2006 [1967]), which is ‘a means to reconfigure arguments
about alienation’ (Al and Krupar 2011, p248) and makes a clear developmental link between
Marx’s ideas of alienation and his own idea of ‘the Spectacle’ (Debord, 2006 [1967], p12)
through the theme of commodity, previously mentioned. Debord, (2006 [1967], p19) explains
the Spectacle as ‘the moment when the commodity has attained the total occupation of social
life.’ By this he means that the commodification of everything around us, through the
increasing dominance of capitalist structures, has made even appearances tradable
commodities. This happens when those within capitalist structures become economically
secure enough to no longer ‘want’ or ‘demand’ physical necessities. Instead they evolve into
demanding cognitive commodities i.e. appearances and the social interactions these affect. In
short the Spectacle is ‘a social relationship between people that is mediated by images’ (2006
[1967], p12). However, it is important to also say that it is more of a way of looking at these
relationships than the relationships themselves, a ‘world view’ if you will. The word Debord
(2006 [1967], p13) uses in the original text is ‘weltanschauung’, which is defined as ‘A
particular philosophy or view of life; the worldview of an individual or group.’ by Oxford
University Press (2015). There is a clear lexical gap which justifies Debord’s use of the
originally German word.

Debord (2006 [1967], p14) argues that these mediated relationships create ‘a dichotomy
between reality and image’ driving a wedge in people’s social interactions until we are so
distant from one another that ‘all that was once directly lived has become mere
representation’, (Debord 2006 [1967], p12) and the division, yet confusion of reality and
image is complete as ‘images become the social relation’ (Al and Krupar 2011, p249).
However, Kaplan (2012) argues that ‘Debord’s rejection of the necessary intermediation of
social life by culture and communication’ is a major flaw in The Society of the Spectacle.
Kaplan means that the dominant tone of ‘liberal individualism’ separates ‘individuals from
the cultural traditions and social relations in which they are embedded’ which, he claims, is a
flawed way to view people and how they interact. He takes the view that we are beings that
develop and change, depending on a range of contexts, and it is natural to mediate how we
communicate and even ‘necessary’ to communicate effectively. However, Debord (2006
[1967], p30) outlines that one of the most dangerous aspects of the spectacle, is its ‘natural’
appearance, to those within it. The context in which Kaplan writes may be the key to
understanding and possibly questioning his point. Al and Krupar (2011, p248) in Notes on the
Society of the Spectacle, draw attention to the fact that Debord, writing just post World War
two, ‘saw the rise of mass media, consumerism and information technology.’ Citing that
Debord saw the Spectacle because he saw culture before the Spectacle, and so had a
comparative reference point. Whereas, Kaplan writes in 2011, well into the age of the
Spectacle, so that truly discerning it would be very difficult.

The Spectacle is so adept at self perpetuation and continuous growth that it is easy to become
absorbed by it. An example of how this can work can be found in contemporary creatives, in
their very response to the presence of The Spectacle. Design activists, such as Adbusters,
mimic the situationists and their ‘detournement’ (Al and Krupar 2011, p249), which literally
means to detour. They achieve this by using ‘graphic design conventions to denaturalise or
‘jam’ taken for granted signs and advertising’ to ‘provoke and challenge onlookers’, and
draw attention to the presence of the Spectacle. Even activism is absorbed by the Spectacle as
‘dissatisfaction itself (Debord, 2006 [1967], p38)’ becomes ‘a commodity’, as the images are
repurposed and become mere signs of the Spectacle. This ability to self perpetuate, means we
are increasingly surrounded by the products and building blocks of the Spectacle, resulting in
social alienation from one another.

Baudrillard’s theory of Simulation is very similar to that of the Spectacle but for our purposes
focusses more on the psychological and emotional causes of alienation in our society.
However, Simulation is not a way of looking at social relationships but rather the process of
‘substituting signs of the real for the real itself’ (Baudrillard, 1988 [1981], p167). This
process involves the repeated copying of one image or text until all originality or even
reference to originality is lost and what is created becomes ‘hyperreal’. This continues until
the present situation where ‘our society has become so reliant on models...that we have lost
all contact with the real world’ (Felluga, 2011d). In practice this is embodied by Baudrillard’s
concept of myth. This shows that, basic signs and symbols become saturated with multiple
false meanings that are increasingly removed from any kind of fact. If our visual
surroundings are false and dense with copies, how can we interact with our surroundings on
any meaningful emotional level?

This forced application of meaning and emotion to false copies, could be said to signify a
lack of emotional closeness, as we desperately try to apply meaning and emotion to our
surroundings. Pasting meaning and emotion to the swaths of copied material that surrounds
us is hard because, as Baudrillard says, there are very few reference points because of the
distance of the copy from anything original and meaningful. However Brian Massumi
(1987?, p91), in Realer than Real, The Simulation According to Deleuze and Guattari, claims
that Simulation can be viewed as ‘a phenomenon of a different nature altogether’ to that
outlined by Baudrillard. Massumi claims that the writings of Deleuze and Guattari explain
Simulacra as completely separate to the original from which they were copied. He argues
that Simulacra bear ‘only an external and deceptive resemblance to a putative model’. In
short he is saying that the falseness of Simulation goes much deeper than simply lack of
reference points but rather is a being of complete falseness which only looks like the original
through pure illusion. For example, ‘the function of a photograph has no real relation to that
of the object photographed’. It is this ‘substituting signs of the real for the real itself’

(Baudrillard, 1988 [1981], p167) which could suggest greater disconnection. An idea which
challenges Massumi, is that:

‘the concept of artificiality still requires some sense of reality against which to recognise the
artifice.’ (Felluga, 2011d)

Dino Felluga uses the very definition of the false and the artificial to draw attention to the
need for a point of reference, required to identify alienation. This is the idea that the
Simulacrum, no matter how far removed from the original, has a connection and therefore a
hope of returning to the emotional closeness provided by the original.
Employing this idea, sighting the separation and dissimilarities, could be seen as revealing
the link between the Simulacrum and the original; undermining Massumi’s argument. So,
although we are very emotionally distant from our surroundings, not all hope is lost there are
still connections that can be used to get back to emotional proximity.

A recurring theme in Marx, Debord and Baudrillard is the increasing negative power of
capitalist structures, whether they be in the form of Alienation, the Spectacle or Simulation,
they are always cited as starting with the industrial revolution. Before this point, it seems, the
capitalist hegemony was less ingrained. They all look back longingly, to a time before our
intensely consumerist culture, or are writing from before it truly took hold. Either way,
modern readers and theorists are all looking back to reshape the future. The manner of this
retrospective view, Jameson argues, creates alienation from our history when mixed with our
capitalist cultural structure.

––

In his essay Postmodernism, or the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism, Jameson examines
temporal proximity through Simulation, in terms of our collective understanding of our
history. Jameson (1991 [1984], p66) declares ‘the new spatial logic of the simulacrum can
now be expected to have a momentous effect on what used to be historical time’. In simple
terms he is looking at the effects of Simulation on our perception of history, his use of ‘used
to be’ already hinting at the pessimistic nature of his conclusion.

Jameson outlines Pastiche as a major part of Simulation that causes temporal alienation. He
describes it as a blank parody, in which history is represented as a set of signs, symbols and
stereotypes until ‘the past as a ‘referent’ finds itself gradually bracketed, and then effaced
altogether, leaving us with nothing but texts.’ In many ways Pastiche is simply a historical
Simulacrum, where something is repeatedly represented until any true reference point is lost
and ‘we can no longer understand the past except as a repository of genres, styles and codes
ready for commodification.’ (Felluga, 2011b) As explained by Marx, commodification leads

to alienation. According to Jameson (1991 [1984], p65), this creates a culture where: ‘the
producers of culture have nowhere to turn to but the past’.

Linda Hutcheon takes a somewhat ‘contradictory stance’ (Felluga, 2011c) to Jameson on
Pastiche and Parody; she unites the terms into one, calling it postmodernist parody claiming
that ‘The paradox of postmodernist parody is that it is not essentially depthless, trivial kitsch,
as Eagleton and Jameson both believe, but rather that it can lead to a vision of
interconnectedness’. Even though original historical texts are not cited as ‘referent’ (Jameson,
1991[1984], p66), ‘it’s deliberate refusal to do so is not a naive one’ (Hutcheon, 1987, p182).
Hutcheon explains that this refusal of postmodern parody to cite original historical texts is
done to intentionally spark examination of the primary reference point, the very point that
Baudrillard and the Simulation claim to make false. In this way postmodern parody both
enforces the simulation through being part of its falseness, and challenges it by drawing
attention to it. This ‘paradox’ (Hutcheon, 1987, p180) is the centre of Hutcheon’s
understanding of the postmodern.

However, it is defining the postmodern that allows deeper comparison of Hutcheon and
Jameson’s Parody and Pastiche. As cited by John Duval (2012, p1) in Troping History:
Modernist Residue in Jameson’s Pastiche and Hutcheon’s Parody ‘what they mean by
postmodernism is not the same thing: Jameson’s postmodernism focuses on the consumer,
while Hutcheon’s originates with the artist.’ So, perhaps the two theorists, normally seen at
odds with one another are simply looking at two contexts for the same thing. Hutcheon
examines ‘the artist's response to economic, social and ethical contexts created by
modernisation’, whereas Jameson is fixed on the general theme of ‘the axis of consumption’
and larger economic implications. This doesn’t mean that they cannot exist simultaneously
and be equally right. Arguably, Jameson cites the greater cultural problem of historical
alienation and Hutcheon starts to look at the solution; the artist and producer, the way we
make things. In other words, craft.

Chapter Two Physical Proximity

This chapter explores physical proximity in chalkboarding and crafts generally, as
demonstrated in chapter one, physical alienation begets all other forms of alienation. This is
mirrored in proximity. Our modern understanding of the disciplines of craft, owe much to the
ideals of the Arts and Crafts movement of the late eighteenhundreds. Ruskin, Morris and the
other movers and shakers of the Arts and Crafts, aimed to achieve ‘integrated life and art’
(Racz, 2009, p1) and ‘unite making and life in continuum’. Predominantly, this was done by
facilitating ‘closeness to nature’ through the craft process and object, and just as man was
considered to come from nature, craft returned him to it, removing alienation. Working with

your hands, using materials gathered from nature surrounding you, Morris believed brought
craftspeople closer to their environment. This was reflected in the craft objects themselves
‘For as was the land so was the art of it’ (Morris, 1878, p7). This reflection of the world in
created objects was praised and encouraged in practitioners ‘till the web, the cup, or the knife,
look as natural, nay as lovely as the green field, the river bank or the mountain flint’. Ruskin
(1960 [1851], p7) initiated this idea in The Nature of Gothic an essay from The Stones of
Venice, in which he applies this concept to architecture, saying that good architecture should
reflect its environment.

‘Let us not condemn, but rejoice in the expression by man of his own rest in the
statues of the lands that gave him birth. Let us watch him with reverence as he sets
side by side the burning gems, and smooths with soft sculpture the jasper pillars, that
are to reflect a ceaseless sunshine, and rise into a cloudless sky: but not with less
reverence let us stand by him, when with rough strength and hurried stroke, he smites
an uncouth animation out of the rocks which he has torn from among the moss of the
moorland, and heaves into the darkened air of the pile of iron buttress and rugged
wall, instinct with a work of imagination as wild and wayward as the north sea;
creations of ungainly shape and rigid limb, but full of wolfish life; fierce as the winds
that beat, and changeful as the clouds that shade them.’ (Ruskin, 1960 [1851] p8).

Although applied to architecture, the concept holds true for creativity generally. Our
experiences, including our environment, are imbued in the things we create. When Ruskin
talks of the ‘imagination as wild and wayward as the north sea’, he means that if wild shapes
and forms surround us we recreate these within our work. Morris (1878, p8) felt this so
crucial that he said of The Nature of Gothic ‘you will read at once the truest and most
eloquent words that can possibly be said on the subject.’ Ruskin (1960 [1851], p8) develops
on this, saying it should be encouraged because this ‘expression’ can ‘rest in the statues of the
land’, or for our purposes, our physical proximity to our environment, is a desirable thing.
David Gauntlet cites Ruskin’s ideas at length in his book Making is Connecting, expanding
upon them, saying that through this ‘expression’ (Ruskin, 1960 [1851] p8) ‘we increase our
engagement and connection with our social and physical environment’ (Gauntlet, 2011, p2).
It doesn’t take much of a leap to apply this ‘expression’ (Ruskin, 1960 [1851] p8) to craft.
This can be seen in the work of contemporary chalk artist Valerie Mckeehan (2015), who in
defining her practice said she ‘infuses her flourishes, flowers, typography and quaint
illustrations with the same sense of whimsy and elegance that inspires her at home’,
demonstrating the way that, for her, chalk art creates ‘a connection between humans and
handmade objects and nature’ (Gauntlet, 2011, p25).

Taking chalkboards as an example, it is clear to see that craft objects require physical
proximity to function. Lauren Hom’s project Will Letter for Lunch (Fig.3 and 4), created
some extremely physically contextualised work exemplifying this idea. (Fig. 4)
(Welcome/Docklands Signs, n.d.) is a selection of chalkboards done for a restaurant. Context

dictates content, this can be seen in the image on the left. The board location means that it is
one of the first things to be seen upon entering the restaurant, dictating that the content is
welcoming. The context (or physical proximity) also dictates the majority of the design
decisions. The image on the right (Welcome/Docklands Signs, n.d.) (Fig. 4) shows a distinct
use of ‘express hierarchies of importance’ (Lupton, 2004, p42). These boards are large
communicators of information and need to be seen from across the restaurant. Hom has
chosen the scale and lettering style of each section to create a logical narrative. As the board
is approached from a great distance all information is visible, but thanks to size, style and
layout, certain aspects are more dominant and are read first. In the case of the right image in
(Fig.4) the special offer and the section title ‘dessert’ are first on the information hierarchy. In
this instance the physical proximity of the audience to the board has dictated design.

Ruskin (1960 [1851], p173) claims that rendering our natural environment in our work ‘is the
sure sign of a more tranquil and gentle existence, sustained by the gifts and gladdened by the
splendour of the earth.’ However, it is clear to see from this almost religious prose on the
subject of nature, how highly romanticised Ruskin’s view of the countryside was. As Imogen
Racz (2009, p21) cites in her book Contemporary Craft, ‘it should be remembered that these
were essentially educated urban dwellers looking at the ideas from the outside.’ This is worth
bearing in mind before condemning the urban context of chalkboarding as untrue to the rural
roots of craft. Chalk ornamentation can come from many sources of inspiration but botanical
forms are a dominant choice in contemporary chalk art. In recent years there has been a
tangible shift from accurate and realistic representation of botanical forms to stylised
interpretations of shapes. This can be seen when comparing the two chalk artists Dana
Tanamachi and Lauren Hom. Looking at (Fig.1) and (Fig.2), (Andaz 5th Ave Installation,
n.d.) and (AbiHaus Installation, n.d.), we can get a grasp on Dana Tanamachi’s work. In
Fig.1 the ornamentation is constructed from, slightly simplified, plant forms. They curl
irregularly around the typographic focus and attempt a sense of symmetry without being a
slave to it. Each individual leaf is constructed from one heavy line and one light, creating
depth. Although these are not perfectly accurate renderings of plants, they are more true to
reality than the later ornamentation of Lauren Hom, seen in (Fig. 4) (Welcome/Docklands
Signs, n.d.). For example, on the right image collections of three petal like shapes are used to
highlight the title ‘Dessert’, they are not complete flowers, nor do they strive to communicate
any floral ideas. However, it is clear to see that in form alone they bear much resemblance to
a simplified fleurdelis. The elegant curved lines that are also used for ornamentation, can
easily be connected with the smoothly curved branches of the Tanamachi board design. Only
lauren Hom has simplified further, doing away with the leaves, rendering the perfectly
imperfect fluidity of botanical form without surplus visual texture. Not so much
communicating close unity to nature, but in a sense once removed, a representation of a
representation and much closer to a ‘refined, restrained and urban’ (Racz, 2009, p23 )
environment. Perhaps, because the context of chalkboards is ‘urban’, they create proximity
and understanding with that environment ‘for as was the’ street ‘so was the art of it’ (Morris,
1878, p7) . The idea of striving for closeness to our own urban environment desperately

smacks of Simulation and begs the question: if we are striving for closeness to something
false that we have created, can it be true closeness? For my argument, it doesn’t matter, the
striving is still present, whether it is successful or not.

Another central theme of physical proximity in craft is the apparent value of that which
is‘made by hand’ (Racz, 2009, p25). The relation of hand to crafted object is consistently
referenced by theorists and practitioners alike. Imogen Racz (2009, p27) termes it ‘making
with intelligent hands’ in her book Contemporary Crafts.When interviewed (Appendix A)
Phelicia Sutherland, a letter press craftsperson and designer of wedding stationery, said that
people want to ‘see that something has been created by a human’ and that ‘people long to be
able to hold things in their hand’ citing the role of ‘the hand’ and physical interaction, in both
the audience's reception of a crafted object and the crafting of the object. Indeed the hand
could be seen as the defining part of ‘Handicraft’ (Morris, 1878, p14) but why is this?

Imogen Racz (2009, p1) expresses the idea that ‘the fundamental characteristic of craft is its
traditional link to the human body through function.’ It is true that ‘people eat off craft
objects, sit on them, wear them and enjoy them.’ With chalkboards, it is more the idea of
physical interaction than the thing itself, on the part of the audience anyway. The idea of ‘a
piece of chalk and the hand that held it’ (Buzbee, 2014, p62). However, this ‘Ruskinian
emphasis of the hand of the maker’ (Racz, 2009, p22) is questioned by Peter Dormer (1997,
p138) in Craft and the Turning Test for Practical Thinking where he asks ‘is anything made
by hand?’ If you want to nitpick, it is true that between the hand and the chalkboard is the
chalk, but surely by this rule ‘very few things can properly be said to have been made by
hand’. Dormer expands on this explaining that ‘most things that are made by craft workers
require tools, and some of these tools are elaborate, time saving machines.’ Dormer is
arguing that to value the proximity in the creation of something is flawed, and that rather ‘it is
not craft as ‘handcraft’ that defines contemporary craftsmanship: it is craft as knowledge’
(Dormer, 1997, p150). Indeed when interviewed Phylecia Sutherland (Appendix A) defined
what she did as ‘craft because it takes skill’. As flawed as Dormer thinks valuing physical
proximity is, it doesn’t nullify it. Racz (2009, p29) challenges Dormers ideas by making a
clear division between tools and machines.

‘Although hammering hot metal involves less direct contact of hand to material, the
individual marks and nuances still ensure that even simple designs are different from what
which would be available from a shop.’

In short the aesthetics of differences and imperfections is what communicates physical
proximity. This is certainly true of chalkboarding and lettering in general; no matter how hard
you try no two letters will be identical. This concept that it is the idea of physical proximity,
expressed through crafts, that is valued is worrying. It creates a whole new meaning for the
Marxist term ‘usevalue’ (Marx, 2008[1867], p1), it expands to ‘value in someone else’s use’.

It creates a commodity of physical proximity and as we know from chapter one,
commodification leads to alienation. Already, evidence for this can be seen in that ‘more
recently machines have begun to produce objects that mimic hand craft and craft ware.’
(Dormer, 1997, p151) A perfect example can be found in the practice of chalkboard artist and
letterer Valerie Mckeehan. Her company, Lily & Val, use her chalk art designs to create
duplications in the form of merchandise, ‘I use the photograph to create the products that I
offer’ (Lily & Val 2013). All real individuality is lost because the designs are endlessly
digitally reproduced, but people still want the prints and the company promotes that ‘there is
something very real and authentic about art work that has been hand drawn’. This machine
mimicry underlines the commodification of human proximity, or even the concept of
proximity. As we strive for closeness, through our craft practices, we are becoming
increasingly alienated.

Chapter Three Social Proximity

For the purposes of this chapter the terms social closeness and social interaction, may be used
interchangeably, but do indeed, mean the same thing. Social proximity differs from the
physical in that it’s focused on the relationships between people. This chapter will discuss the
different ways social closeness is facilitated in craft processes, I will explore the specific
repercussions of this in a digital age. Both sides of this conversation will be examined; the
craftsperson and the craft object, and the audience and the craft object. Although links may
be made that cross these divisions, such as social closeness between the craftsperson and the
audience, it will always be created through the craft process or object. To achieve a well
rounded argument I will be drawing on the primary sources of my own critical journal and
work (Appendix D) and interviews conducted by myself (Appendices A, B & C). Major
influences for this chapter include Making is Connecting by David Gauntlett (2011), which
provides incredible analysis of craft in the digital age, and the essay Craft Within Consumer
Society by Gloria Hickley which looks at the social tradition of gifting craft objects and what
this means for social interaction facilitated by craft.

As previously mentioned physical closeness begets social closeness, just as physical
alienation begets social alienation. This can be seen in the way that the division of labour
results in increased class divisions, outlined in the first chapter. William Morris (1878, p15)
observed this during the industrial revolution, seeing that ‘labour was more divided among
great men, lesser men, and little men’. Here he shows that when one person controls another
in a work environment, this structure will be mirrored in social contexts outside of work.
Morris (1878, p47) fought against these social divisions through craft, proclaiming that ‘I do
not want art for a few, any more than education for a few or freedom for a few.’ Fundamental
to the ideals of the Arts and Crafts movement was the idea of ‘fraternity’ (Morris, 1878, p49)
between craftspeople that transcended class divisions, ‘I believe that as we have even now

partly achieved liberty, so we shall achieve equality, and best of all fraternity’ (Morris, 1878,
p48). Largely these ideas were adopted from medieval guild systems, highly praised by
Morris and his cohort, because they provided learning opportunities and support for creative
communities. Indeed, David Gauntlett (2011, p66) in his book Making is Connecting cites the
way that ‘The craft world unlike the art world is a place where fame and comparative
status amongst peers, is meant to be unimportant’. Christopher Frayling questions the very
validity of the concept of fraternity by looking at the medieval origins:

‘The myth of the happy artisan like the ‘artist craftsman’, craft guilds to which select
potters could belong, and the confusion of rural workers with guild craftsman did
not exist until the nineteenth century, when it became a part of a romantic reaction
against the spread of industrial capitalism.’ (Frayling, 2011, p66)

The view that these ideals of fraternity and equality, were and are heavily romanticised is not
uncommon. Described as ‘utopian’ by Gauntlett (2011, p38) and as a ‘romantic vision’ by
Racz (2009, p20). `however, fraternity and social closeness are still a mainstay of
contemporary craft practice. This is especially evident when asking practitioners how they
learned their craft. Roger Grech, owner of The Papercut Bindery based in Shipley (Appendix
B) explained that he learned the basics on his own, through books and experimentation.
However, he then contacted the author of one of the most useful books and gained much
knowledge from the man himself. ‘Members of the craft world possess a body of knowledge
and skill which can be used’ (Frayling, 2011, p112). Phylecia Sutherland (Appendix A) a
letterpress printer based in Bradford sourced social proximity with other crafts people
through the internet, adding to an amount of self taught knowledge by using the perks of the
digital age. David Gauntlett (2011, p61) in Making is Connecting points out the ways that
new digital and social platforms can ‘connect and support crafters around the world’. For
chalkboarding this is certainly true. A particularly potent example is Instagram and how it
facilitates the promotion and exhibition of chalkboard artists and their work. For myself as a
practitioner finding other people’s work, such as that of Lauren Hom, (Fig. 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7)
(Mountain/Ital Signs, n.d.) (Welcome/Docklands Signs, n.d.)  (Wichcraft Mural, 2015)
(Inking Letters, 2015) (Namastay In Bed All Day, 2015) Is invaluable as inspiration and
support. Simply knowing other people are making a living doing what they love is hugely
inspiring. Not only this, but the Social aspect of Instagram means that you are able to exhibit
your work and people can like and comment on it, providing active support and a real sense
of community. According to David Gauntlett, this creates:

‘a newly empowered and organised movement helped as I have said, by the new
visibility of their activities via the internet, which enables the excited enthusiasts in
corner of the world to inspire and encourage similarly energised individuals,
with a depth and speed that was not previously possible.’ (Gauntlett, 2011, p82)

Thus chalkboarding and crafts stimulate and even require social interaction and proximity to
flourish to their fullest. What is most interesting is the way that digital social platforms have
aided the social proximity stimulated by crafts, one of the perks of web 2.0.

As well as social proximity between fellow craftspeople, Chalkboarding creates social
proximity between craftspeople and the audience/consumers of these craft objects. This is
obvious in my own practice (Appendix D). A particular aspect of this is the positioning of
your chalkboard in relation to people. When designing the chalkboard for the Love Rouge
Cafe, work took place within the cafe space and in view of the customers. This meant people
became interested in the board and would approach, ask about the design, and my other work.
People became involved in the process and would sit and watch the design take shape, even
making sympathetic noises when the chalk broke, which did happen often.

Beyond the time spent creating a board in situ, craft and specifically chalkboards, create
social proximity through the communicative qualities of the craft itself. Gloria Hickey
examines this idea in Craft Within a Consumer Society, in which she looks at the tradition of
craft objects as gifts, and how they represent a kind of ‘giving of yourself’ (Hickey, 1997,
p87) that establishes a social and personal relationship. The first relationship is between the
buyer and the crafts person, as ‘the craftsperson is not just marketing their product but him
or herself’ (Hickey, 1997, p87). This is something that cropped up in my interview with
Roger Grech (Appendix B), in which he talked about how crafting something is like putting a
small piece of yourself into it, because of the effort expended in the making, selling it was
described by Roger Grech as hoping someone will accept that small part of you. Lewis
Buzbee, (2014, p57) translates this idea onto the chalkboard by saying that ‘the blackboard is
the surface of thought’, outlining the expression of self in the chalkboard. However, Hickey
(Hickey, 1997, p96) argues that ‘the values and meanings attached to craft objects...are very
different for insiders and outsiders of the craft world’. This asks if there is a lack of parity
between what is perceived by the audience and what is intended by craftspeople. In short, are
people receiving the ‘mental expression’ (Ruskin, 1960 [1851] , p159) that craftspeople feel
they imbue into their craft objects? In The Nature of Gothic Ruskin suggests that an imperfect
and handmade aesthetic communicative and inclusive in a way that minimal and digital
aesthetics are not.

‘No architecture is so haughty as that which is simple; which refuses to address the
eye, except in a few clear and forceful lines; which implies, in offering so little to our
regards, that all it has offered is perfect; and disdains, either by the complexity or the
attractiveness of its features, to embarrass our investigation, or betray us into delight.’
(Ruskin, 1960 [1851] p176)

Here Ruskin juxtaposes that which is crafted, complex and ornamented, with the minimal and
sharp. The craft aesthetic, provides more for the audience to engage with. Ruskin describes
simple design as ‘haughty’ because it presumes itself ‘perfect’, painting a picture of a very

one sided correspondence of object and audience. In contrast a complex and imperfect
aesthetic creates a conversation of sorts, a give and take of information.

What falls into sharp relief through this exploration is the fact that chalkboarding and crafts
not only create situations in which social interaction can flourish, but also this social
interaction continues beyond the physical in this digital age. Social media and web 2.0 has
helped create craft communities and therefore, support for many craftspeople. Showing that
no matter what platform craft objects are on, we will always look for ways to be socially
closer, because of craft, or through it.

Chapter 4 Emotional Proximity

The next type of proximity to explore is that of emotional proximity. Examination will take
place on both sides of the crafted object, looking at the craftsperson, the audience and the
emotional connection both form with the object. One of the main emotions that craft objects
often evoke, is enjoyment. Joy in making is a cornerstone of craft as defined by Morris. He
believed that through craft we would come to see work as a ‘blessing of labour’ (Morris,
1878, p9) that ‘provided solace’ (Racz, 2009, p22). So central is this enjoyment, that in some
cases ‘the meaningful and rewarding process of making’ (Gauntlett, 2011, p68) has been seen
as the reason for craft. According to Morris, this process is ‘rewarding’ (Gauntlett, 2011, p68)
because ‘any work worth doing offers hope’ (Gauntlett, 2011, p4) and results in ‘the
achievement of having made something worthwhile’ (Gauntlett, 2001, p41). The product of
craft is important but it cannot be achieved properly without ‘a conscious pleasure in the
activity, while it is being engaged in’ (Gauntlett, 2011, p4). Gauntlett (2011, p66) even goes
on to say that it is emotional proximity itself which makes the craft process enjoyable, citing
‘the essentially intimate and personal nature of the experience of making’. This experience is
seen as a central requirement for happiness in The Concept of Flow by Mihaly
Csikszentmihalyi and Jeanne Nakamura (2001?, p89), in which he claims ‘a good life is
characterised by complete absorption in what one does’. Flow is a name for this ‘absorption’
when ‘a person is wholly engaged in a task, to the extent that time passes unnoticed, and they
forget about the demands external to the task’ (Gauntlett, 2011, p75) to the point where ‘the
body and the mind can flow together’ (Racz, 2009, p27). This is certainly something that I
have experienced (Appendix D). Producing large chalkboard takes time, and during the time
it took to create the board I did indeed enter a sought of trance like rhythm. However, this
was not the most mentally strenuous part of the process, because most trial and error had
been experienced while coming up with the design. According to Gauntlett (2001, p75) to
achieve Flow, the task needs to be ‘challenging in a satisfying way’. This means that there is
a balance between the challenge of the task and skill level of the individual. This is
interesting, because during the design development stage of the Love Rouge chalkboard
(Appendix D), time was something easily lost track of. In Appendix E, This was experienced

to a greater degree because of the increased scale of the project and the experimentation that
took place on the boards themselves. Despite having a design ready, changes were made at
the point of production, creating greater challenges than simple reproduction.  Because Flow
requires such a careful cross over of Challenge and skill, the controllable variables of craft,
compared to the set variables of computer programs, makes it a much more suitable method
for achieving Flow. Both Phylecia Sutherland (Appendix A) and Nick from the Print Project
(Appendix C) agree, saying that they felt a sense of autonomy in being able to make a living
by their own hands.

Just as any design process, Chalkboarding has its small challenges that need to be overcome
during development. This can be seen in the work of Valerie McKeehan (Lily and Val 2013)
and specifically the process of sketching that occurs before chalk touches board. These small
trials stimulate an emotional engagement with the object and with the process. Imogen Racz
(2009, p26)  takes this idea further saying that this engagement is ‘a way of expressing the
human’ and Gloria Hickey (1997, p95) agrees, saying that the craftsperson makes use of
‘tools of self expression’ when making. So much so that ‘the individual becomes implicated
within the object’ (Racz, 2009, p35). Both Roger Grech (Appendix B) from The Papercut
Bindery and Nick (Appendix C) from The Print Project, reinforced this idea in their
interviews. Roger talked about ‘putting yourself’ into a crafted object and Nick talked about
the energy stored in lead and wood type as it is used and used again. What is interesting is
that this emotional proximity or expiry of effort on the part of the craftsperson makes the
object valuable or special ‘people are willing to pay to have something unique, which they
may well not use, but which will be special to them’
(Racz, 2009, p34). However, do we as designers, perceive this self expression when an
uninitiated eye would not? While it is hard quantify this, it is easy to see from the content of
the third chapter that the people behind craft objects are part of what customers buy into
when they purchase a craft object. This is also true of chalkboard artists. The Instagram feed
of Lauren Hom is testament to this. In (Fig. 5, 6 and 7) (Wichcraft Mural, 2015)(Namastay In
Bed All Day, 2015) (Inking Letters, 2015) examples can be found of the time, effort and
process behind the work that she produces. (Fig. 6)(Namastay In Bed All Day, 2015) is in
particular an apt demonstration; it is a still taken from a time lapse video. Such a video draws
attention to the time and skill involved in production, by showing every stage, effort becomes
part of what customers buy into. As such, it can be seen that a commodity is made of the self
expression and emotional interaction with the chalkboard. Therefore, even if audiences
cannot quite read the emotional interaction in the crafted object, they search for ways to find
it out and craftspeople use it to sell.

Arguably, there is a much higher possibility of audiences reading the emotional proximity in
a crafted object than in a digitally created object, because the aesthetic is often more
relatable. Helen Rees (1997, p126) explores this idea through ergonomic design, arguing that
digital designs use of ergonomics:

‘was intended to ensure increased comfort and efficiency in the resulting product. (yet
objects made by hand frequently achieve the same effect, simply because human factors are
integrated into every part of the process, from conception to realisation.)’

In this situation chalkboards can be seen as conceptually or visually ergonomic; more tailored
to the human eye and mind, because ‘human factors are integrated into every part of the
process’. This in comparison to the ‘glossy wizardry which we find it more difficult to relate
to’ (Gauntlett, 2011, p72) of digital design. We cannot relate to it because we cannot read the
self expression of the maker in the object ‘with no magical, smileinducing spark behind it,
the constructed thing is just, well, a constructed thing.’ (Gauntlett, 2011, p77). In short, the
process of creation involves emotional closeness. Craft objects allow someone else to achieve
a parallel of that closeness, because it is both made through and made to evoke, emotional
closeness. A conceptual path traveled and marked by the creator, for the customer/audience.

Chapter 5 Temporal Proximity

Temporal proximity, in this context, means historical awareness joined with historical
understanding, with a touch of nostalgia. Its an understanding of historical context concerning
a crafted object and the process used to create it. The most obvious presence of this can be
found between the maker and the crafted object, in the learning and knowledge to be gleaned
from creating using traditional methods. In many ways this process inserts you into the shoes
of past practitioners. The issue that must be addressed here is how this proximity is then
passed to the audience, and even, if Jameson is to be believed, whether it can be.

Historical awareness and a sense of tradition are central ideals of the Arts and Craft
movement and as such shape our understanding of craft today. Morris saw an understanding
of art history to be crucial in practicing art because there is so much to be learnt from past
works ‘Your teachers, they must be nature and history’ (Morris, 1878, p 27). Morris paints
an enthralling image of the closeness to history that studying it can create, using the mere
depth of a window to separate examiner and examinee ‘those who have diligently followed
the delightful study of the arts are able as if through windows to look upon the life of the
past’ (Morris, 1878, p12). This closeness between the disciplines of craft and history was not
only portrayed as positive but also unquestionable, as is shown when Morris (1878, p11)
declares ‘so strong is the bond between history and decoration, that in the practice of the
latter we cannot, if we would, wholly shake off the influence of past times over what we do at
present.’ Here we can take the term ‘decoration’ for crafted objects, it is clear to see that
Morris saw crafts always in the context of what has gone before. Christopher Frayling (2011,
p96) reinforces this, saying that craft is ‘standing on the shoulders of what’s been done before
starting with where what’s been done before left off.’ The History of craft can therefore be
compared to the practice of an individual craftsperson; as a chalk artist learns collectively

from each chalkboard she creates and has created, so do all present chalk artists learn from
past ones and the history of art and design in general, each generation collecting new
knowledge, ‘for should not these memories be part of your daily life?’ (Morris, 1878, p13).
This is specifically applicable to the lettering aspect of chalkboarding. There is a need to
understand the different historical origins of certain lettering styles to understand and
manipulate the connotations of the designs you create. Not only is this done theoretically, in
researching the history of calligraphy and the like, but also practically, learning calligraphy
so you can form the glyphs in chalk properly and truthfully. For example, Fig. 8 (Luke’s 2:9
Scripture, 2015) is a piece from the Lily and Val website, done by Valerie McKeehan. It
makes use of the line weight particularly from copperplate calligraphy. This is where a
flexible nib is used that widens when pressed and so creates a letterform with increased width
on the downward strokes. The usual angle of such a pen would mean that the forms would be
naturally italicised but McKeehan has left out the italics and flowed a flexible axis. This
combines the associations of the regency era and classic romance with a playful note, almost
cheeky in its flouting of the grid. In Appendix E, this use of practical, historical understanding can
also be seen, where copperplate calligraphy is learnt in order to construct correct letterforms.

Morris (1878, p4) viewed this as distinctly positive, ‘I neither when I think of what history
has been, am inclined to lament the past, to despise the present, or despair of the future’.
Indeed ‘William Morris was a man who projected a vision of great fundamental optimism’
(Gauntlett, 2011, p38). However, many do view this retrospective aspect of craft as negative,
depicting craft as ‘standing against the ideas of progress and civilisation’ (Greenhalgh, 1997,
p104). Frayling (2011, p61) sums up the resulting perception in one dry statement ‘craft is
trustworthy, microchips are not.’ This illustrates that because crafts are seen as a reaction to
technological development, they are sometimes purely seen as comforting and familiar, as
opposed to new and exciting. This ‘depressing scenario’ (Greenhalgh, 2011, p104) permeates
the consumer world where ‘advertisers can rely on the word craft to relieve for a moment the
complex anxieties which these social and economic processes have developed.’ (Frayling,
2011, p62). Imogen Racz (2009, p23) agrees, showing how this negative identifier has been
falsely perpetuated by ‘Hovis advertisements, which, suggested the trustworthy artisan
working in an organic community.’ Showing, just as Jameson does, that we get separated
from the nuances of a deep historical understanding and of meaning to be found in craft.
Even Morris (1878, p11) identifies it in his own practice, claiming that ‘forms that once had a
serious meaning, though they are now become little more than a habit of the hand’.

However, there is a trend to these negative ideas about craft: they always come to the surface
during the interaction between audience and object. These misreadings then pass to the
designers as they tailor to the audience and the cycle is perpetuated, ‘how can I ask working
men passing down the street to care about beauty?’ (Morris, 1878, p28). Morris’s question
illustrates this cycle perfectly, if your audience cannot read the historical references in design,
then you work to what they do understand, which may well not be accurate.

Thus historical alienation and Jameson's conclusions on pastiche are found. I believe the
solution can be found in craft practice and in a point touched on in chapter 3. As technology
advances and the producer/consumer nature of online resources continue the DIY culture that
David Gauntlett celebrates in Making is Connecting will allow more people to produce and
craft in their own small ways. As also mentioned earlier (in this chapter) this making, allows
a deep understanding of process and origins, and so we, through uniting ‘craft’ (Frayling,
2011, p61) and the ‘microchip’ can have a better, more historically aware audience. Social
media will facilitate skill and knowledge sharing and an educated audience of
producer/consumers, also an educated collection of producers and craftspeople, perpetuating
temporal closeness.

Conclusion

It should be noted that this essay is an exploration. It is not an evaluative comparison of
digital and craft production methods, it is not a history of chalkboarding. It is an exploration
of the enduring nature of craft. There are other answers to this than the one detailed above:
money, luxury, status and pure nostalgia. The are good, fair answers grounded in reality and
reasoning. However, none can quite be explored to the same extent and depth as proximity. It
could even be said that these reasons can be traced back to proximity. Money, to the social
proximity of class structures and the same can be said for luxury and status. Nostalgia, is in
its most basic form is a longing for temporal proximity, even if it is based in the signs and
symbols of pastiche. Proximity is a well rounded reason for the endurance of craft, which
after examination can be seen to underpin all other reasons. The restrictions of a word count
mean that a detailed account of all possible answers to this question cannot be done justice.
However, the approach that has been chosen allows a deep examination of a widely
applicable answer, whilst also remaining focused and relevant.

Marxist ideals and theorists have been explored at length in order to provide a context for this
answer. A growing presence of alienation in its different forms was tracked from the
industrial revolution to the present. A solid link between commodification and alienation was
established that grew in depth and meaning as commodification was found to be not only
physical but cognitive and psychological. Once the problem identified, and backed up by
theorists such as Debord, Baudrillard and Jameson, a solution was found in its mirror image.
Or at least what people see as a solution. Proximity to solve alienation and craft seems to
have copious amount of it. The division of proximity into the areas: physical, social,
emotional and temporal allowed a clarification of the meaning and role of each in terms of
the craftsperson and the audience/consumer of the crafted object. A crucial part of achieving
this was an understanding of the Arts and Crafts movement and the people who defined our
idea of craft today. This meant that a lynch pin text of the entire essay was The Decorative
Arts: Their Relation to Modern Life And Progress: An Address Delivered Before The Trades

Guild Of Learning by william Morris (1878). This provided a solid primary source for
Morris’s ideas against which to compare modern developments. For this Davis Gauntlet’s
(2011) Making is Connecting was invaluable, relevant at every stage and reflecting on the
changes to connectivity in the digital era and how this has affected the individual, just as
much as the conglomerate concept of our culture.

Upon reflection a major pattern through this work is synthesis. Although explored separately
the aspects of proximity cannot be separated in practice. This was the dominant finding of my
practical piece paired with this essay (Appendix E). However, this separation is a valid way
to understand the theory which informs the practice. Physical Proximity leads to social
proximity and so on to emotional and temporal proximity but the important part is the return
to the beginning of the cycle with physical proximity. Also, they need not and mostly do not
occur in this order. It is a complete and utter synthesis of these ideas in practice which
achieves or is at least perceived to achieve a complete form of proximity.

Indeed the complete image of this synthesised proximity is extremely complex and what is
detailed in this essay is a way of looking at it much like Debord’s (2006[1967])
‘weltanschauung’. This need for proximity is something complex and ingrained irrevocably
into our culture.
In conclusion, I can and will easily be said, from the previous exploration detailed in this
essay that craft is predominantly still relevant because we are searching for meaningful
proximity, which can be divided into physical, social, emotional and temporal proximity.
However, remember this is one answer, it is a good one, but nevertheless one of many to be
found in such a complex subject matter. Despite this, this answer is no less correct.

9778

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