Faythe Levine and Cortney Heimerl’s book is a fair snapshot of the state of the indie-craft movement. I assume it’s an outgrowth of Levine’s movie of the same name, which I have not seen. The book is more of an appreciation than a commentary. Everything is upbeat and positive: there’s no critical analysis or historical context. In a sense, the book appears to be an accurate mirror of the whole movement.

Indie-craft is a truly democratic (democraftic?) phenomenon. It has grown up without help from the established craftworld like the ACC, the medium organizations or the schools. If anything, the craft establishment continues to resist indie-craft. The ACC makes half-hearted attempts to promote indie-crafters at the Baltimore show, but imposes rules like forbidding the sale of tee shirts. Such restrictions deny the basic values of the movement, and make the exhibitors seem like pale imitations of themselves. Virtually all the college craft teachers I know disparage the work they see on Etsy.com and at indie-craft fairs, if they have bother to look at all.

But indie-craft does not represent the values of the craft establishment. If anything, indie-craft is more true to the original vision of William Morris. Art for all, not just for the few. Pleasurable labor. Environmental responsibility. These are the virtues of craft that Morris envisioned more than a century ago, and it’s fascinating that they have spontaneously re-emerged in the 21st century.

Aesthetes and connoisseurs will probably be appalled by Handmade Nation. If so, they’re missing the point. This book is not about great works of art. It’s about a collective response to modern society, and the thousands of young people who hope to align handwork and morality once more.

Handmade Nation presents an informal view of indie-craft from the inside. I ignored the cheerleading and tried to see the larger trends in operation here. For instance, all the work presented in the book is made as production items at fairly low price points, and that’s consistent with the aims of the makers. Not only do most of them appear to make a living, but they sincerely want to get their work into the lives of ordinary people. Most reject the gallery system, and most seem to reject the idea of craft as a precious object to be displayed on a pedestal. Many speak of the beneficial impact of handmade craft: green, locally produced, good for community building, and vigorously anti-corporate.

It’s hard to determine if these impacts are real or imagined. One has to wonder if you can save the world by buying handmade stuff. It’s still consumerism, after all. I suppose the idea is that people will consume clothing and handbags and jewelry no matter what, so these objects might as well be produced in a way that creates a decent quality of life for the makers and are, in many ways, ecologically responsible. Some of the most persuasive indie-crafts are made of recycled material, like Emily Kircher’s crocheted rugs.

I think indie-craft often trades in symbolic gestures, more than measurable social improvement. The problem with political art is that it usually effects no real social change, despite its best intentions. If the goal is to cause change, isn’t it futile to try when the project is probably doomed from the outset? This is the criticism commonly leveled against political art. But Arthur Danto proposed an alternative view: that art can present a picture of the world as it should be, not as it is, and that picture stands as an exemplar and aspiration to all. This art is symbolic because it stands for change rather than causes it, and is a gesture because it is aware of it’s own ineffectiveness. And I think that’s OK. Much of the best art in the world stands as symbolic gestures. Did Picasso’s “Guernica” stop a single person from dying in the Spanish Civil War? Probably not. But it is now regarded as one of the most potent anti-war paintings ever done.

Or, perhaps indie-crafters realize that most social change occurs in tiny increments. Massive change occurs when these small gestures are repeated by thousands, then millions. This is exactly the logic behind Wal-Mart’s concerted effort to market compact florescent light bulbs. An environmentalist persuaded Wal-Mart execs that the incremental energy reduction of one CFL bulb, multiplied by millions, had a major environmental impact in energy savings. And he was right. Wal-Mart’s marketing muscle is now saving the U.S. many thousands of barrels of oil every day. Thus, the lofty goals of indie-crafters may not be so unrealistic as it seems. It all depends on the multiplier.

If I could, I would like to ask Levine and Heimerl a few questions.  First, where are the men? Every crafter in the book was a woman. This is not an accurate representation: in my travels around indie-craft fairs, I see a modest number of men. But still, more than 80% are women. Why? Has the entrepreneurial spirit become the property of young women only? Are young men not as interested in making as women? Are men so seduced by their sense of entitlement that they no longer want to take on the discipline that craft demands? What’s going on here?

Second, what’s the attitude towards criticism? The tone of the book – and the quotes from the crafters themselves – is uniformly upbeat. Despite the fact that many of these women graduated from art school (although rarely from craft programs), I found no trace of that time-honored art school ritual, the critique. If there were criticisms, they were directed at the larger culture. (Corporatism and globalism are the most popular candidates for criticism.) But I detected no sense of self-critique.

Is this a feature of indie-craft, or is it a cultural shift of an entire generation? My age group, especially those who became teachers, bought into the idea of the critique. We believe that an honest evaluation should be both positive and negative, and that students develop faster when negative feedback is taken into account. Has this model been rejected? Is the new assumption that self-improvement is best effected by positive feedback only? Or maybe there is a different kind of criticism in indie-craft, only it’s invisible to the likes of me?

I realize that Handmade Nation is intended to be a celebration, and I suppose that’s fine. But indie-craft may be repeating the biggest mistake that the craft mainstream made: hard criticism was avoided like the plague, and still is. That lack of questioning and toughness ultimately retarded the entire field. Who questions the pleasant assertions? Who demands more than conventional wisdom? I don’t see them. From a certain point of view, indie-craft looks like a vast comfort zone. And I would hate to see indie-craft go down the same old path of endless self-congratulation and approval. That path goes nowhere.

Anyway, I enjoyed Handmade Nation. The history of craft is largely about a contest between elitism and democracy, and the persistent democratic impulse separates the culture of craft from that of fine art. Indie-craft is the newest manifestation of the desire to be inclusive and open, to invite everybody into the big handmade tent. It works for me.