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gurdonarkHere on LJ, one theme that hits home over and over is how many LJ users are incredibly good at crafts and incredibly frustrated at their non-craft professions. The part of me that, in the words of a recent country and western song "wants to talk about me, me, me" is tempted to render a post about how, being more untalented at crafts than the cowbird (who builds no nest, but merely lays eggs in other birds' nests), I qualify on LiveJournal as
an Under-Represented Skills Shortfall Group (URSS) member, and that
as an URSS member, I should be entitled be entitled to particular perks, such as acclamation as moderator of a community called "shunned without talent". But today I am out tochangeyourworld, so I put aside the five paragraph post about the travails of being a URSS (not to mention the post about how I was a stepchild for 6 weeks once), and offer to the LJ world this incredible new insight I have gained. I already offered it to burninggirl, who is also of the privileged crafty LiveJournal majority (PCLJM), but I realize this gift is so large I must share it with all.
It all began when something (my sister's fiance would say "God", but, theist though I am, I tend to go with less interactive choices like "intuition" and "whimsy") TOLD me to stop by the Tom Thumb grocery store for something to read on my way to Boston Market [for those of you who are geographically challenged non-Texans (GCNTs), I'll explain that Boston Market is a place where they serve you chicken or turkey and vegetables on plastic plates really quickly for money, and Tom Thumb is a "greengrocer" gone mad.
I found myself in the Tom Thumb, guided by the Voice of Whimsy (VOW), when Destiny spoke. Destiny has a gravelly, Willie Nelson kind of voice, and he said "buy that damn magazine, podner". I looked down and there was the Dallas glossy magazine. Now there's much for the elite in our local glossy (lg). The articles tell us about statewide politics, fashionable people, vacations at hotels more expensive than even the VOW can afford (particularly when the VOW lived on carpenter's pay, and apparently did not do much foreign travel, other than, in one faith's "additional gospel-style account" (AGSA), a side trip to Mexico), and which fashions from London the local Dallas matron should be wearing (okay, so we look over the eastern waters here--Stanley Marcus, rest in peace).
In such a resource, I would not expect to find what I now freely offer to the crafty among you. But there it was, as if divinely planted for my Boston Market excursion. There it was,
on the cover just below the blurb about the article how a bunch of rich donors are rediscovering the cowgirl (who had apparently become lost, and now is being appropriately commemorated in a museum, museums being much less expensive and much more fashionable than, say, pay equity for women today).
I will say it all in two words: Cowboy Boots. The article was about the lost art of hand-crafted boot-making. You see, most cowboy boots, practical, workmanlike things, are made by machines, largely in Mexico (which the article was hinted was somehow bad, but assuming that working conditions there are acceptable, I'd proudly stand in the charro tradition in my boot choices anytime).
The article pointed out that there is another alternative:
hand-made cowboy boots.
Now the last time I went to the Tony Llama store factory outlet in
El Paso, I was able to get attractive and stylish "roper" cowboy boots that I wore for years and my brother wears still for something like 50 dollars (in Dallas, where we look to the east, boots are a weekend thing; in Fort Worth a mere forty miles and a universe away, they look to the west, and boots can be business attire). But these "hand-made" boots are not trifles available for a pittance. They retail for five hundred to a thousand dollars a pair. It's no surprise that the people who order the boots include people like Sting, Sheryl Crow and more Talentless Young Actors (TYAs) than you can shake a stick at, and the poshest Austin and Hill Country places have waiting lists for new boots that can stretch as long as three years.
What is the job calling in this, my crafty reader is no doubt asking? It turns out there is a Texas (and that means for all practical purposes the whole world in this context) desperate shortage of Qualified Handmade Boot Makers (QHBMs). Here is where you come in, my crafty friends.
Ah, the joys of leather boot-making. The hand-crafting of the
heels, the sewing on of the little Ado Annie flowers, and the
stitching of the calf's head skull along the sides. This is not a mere job, this is a Calling!
It turns out that only one school in the US teaches this lost art of cowboy boot-making. It's the Okmulgee technical branch of
Oklahoma State University. You can read more here.
So I say a simple phrase to all of you of the PLJCM who are frustrated with jobs in which you cannot write your inner novel,
paint your inward Sistine Chapel, or save the world through macrame. That phrase is: "Make Boots". I will come visit you all in Okmulgee, a charming rural Oklahoma town, once you are all settled in. Then I expect to see hand-crafted cowboy boot stores spring up world-wide, and domestic happiness among the
PCLJM to skyrocket. I look forward to the day when I can join, as a purely honorary member, the new community "craftyhipbootpeople".
This has been a public service announcement by Gurdonark,
"where lack of talent has never meant a lack of posts".
an Under-Represented Skills Shortfall Group (URSS) member, and that
as an URSS member, I should be entitled be entitled to particular perks, such as acclamation as moderator of a community called "shunned without talent". But today I am out to
changeyourworld, so I put aside the five paragraph post about the travails of being a URSS (not to mention the post about how I was a stepchild for 6 weeks once), and offer to the LJ world this incredible new insight I have gained. I already offered it to burninggirl, who is also of the privileged crafty LiveJournal majority (PCLJM), but I realize this gift is so large I must share it with all.It all began when something (my sister's fiance would say "God", but, theist though I am, I tend to go with less interactive choices like "intuition" and "whimsy") TOLD me to stop by the Tom Thumb grocery store for something to read on my way to Boston Market [for those of you who are geographically challenged non-Texans (GCNTs), I'll explain that Boston Market is a place where they serve you chicken or turkey and vegetables on plastic plates really quickly for money, and Tom Thumb is a "greengrocer" gone mad.
I found myself in the Tom Thumb, guided by the Voice of Whimsy (VOW), when Destiny spoke. Destiny has a gravelly, Willie Nelson kind of voice, and he said "buy that damn magazine, podner". I looked down and there was the Dallas glossy magazine. Now there's much for the elite in our local glossy (lg). The articles tell us about statewide politics, fashionable people, vacations at hotels more expensive than even the VOW can afford (particularly when the VOW lived on carpenter's pay, and apparently did not do much foreign travel, other than, in one faith's "additional gospel-style account" (AGSA), a side trip to Mexico), and which fashions from London the local Dallas matron should be wearing (okay, so we look over the eastern waters here--Stanley Marcus, rest in peace).
In such a resource, I would not expect to find what I now freely offer to the crafty among you. But there it was, as if divinely planted for my Boston Market excursion. There it was,
on the cover just below the blurb about the article how a bunch of rich donors are rediscovering the cowgirl (who had apparently become lost, and now is being appropriately commemorated in a museum, museums being much less expensive and much more fashionable than, say, pay equity for women today).
I will say it all in two words: Cowboy Boots. The article was about the lost art of hand-crafted boot-making. You see, most cowboy boots, practical, workmanlike things, are made by machines, largely in Mexico (which the article was hinted was somehow bad, but assuming that working conditions there are acceptable, I'd proudly stand in the charro tradition in my boot choices anytime).
The article pointed out that there is another alternative:
hand-made cowboy boots.
Now the last time I went to the Tony Llama store factory outlet in
El Paso, I was able to get attractive and stylish "roper" cowboy boots that I wore for years and my brother wears still for something like 50 dollars (in Dallas, where we look to the east, boots are a weekend thing; in Fort Worth a mere forty miles and a universe away, they look to the west, and boots can be business attire). But these "hand-made" boots are not trifles available for a pittance. They retail for five hundred to a thousand dollars a pair. It's no surprise that the people who order the boots include people like Sting, Sheryl Crow and more Talentless Young Actors (TYAs) than you can shake a stick at, and the poshest Austin and Hill Country places have waiting lists for new boots that can stretch as long as three years.
What is the job calling in this, my crafty reader is no doubt asking? It turns out there is a Texas (and that means for all practical purposes the whole world in this context) desperate shortage of Qualified Handmade Boot Makers (QHBMs). Here is where you come in, my crafty friends.
Ah, the joys of leather boot-making. The hand-crafting of the
heels, the sewing on of the little Ado Annie flowers, and the
stitching of the calf's head skull along the sides. This is not a mere job, this is a Calling!
It turns out that only one school in the US teaches this lost art of cowboy boot-making. It's the Okmulgee technical branch of
Oklahoma State University. You can read more here.
So I say a simple phrase to all of you of the PLJCM who are frustrated with jobs in which you cannot write your inner novel,
paint your inward Sistine Chapel, or save the world through macrame. That phrase is: "Make Boots". I will come visit you all in Okmulgee, a charming rural Oklahoma town, once you are all settled in. Then I expect to see hand-crafted cowboy boot stores spring up world-wide, and domestic happiness among the
PCLJM to skyrocket. I look forward to the day when I can join, as a purely honorary member, the new community "craftyhipbootpeople".
This has been a public service announcement by Gurdonark,
"where lack of talent has never meant a lack of posts".
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no subject
no subject
Re:
Date: 2002-05-31 07:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-05-31 07:52 am (UTC)It is possible to craft one's own product in boots,
and that's what a number of Austin businesses do.
My suspicion is that an artist with the requisite skills could actually do something very nice, earn a nice living, and be an artist. The problem, of course, is that ordinary people cannot then afford the art created.
I have never solved the problem of how real art is ever affordable. Your approach to things avoids that problem as well, but then creates the
other problem--what does one do for a vocation.
I omitted mentioning the way in which the article made a double ethnic slur, by suggesting that the only people who could really make boots other than those who went to school were latino folks from just under and just above the border. Glossy magazines are good at that kind of generalization.
But in answer to your question, I believe that the thousand dollar handmade boots industry include boutiques featuring boots made by people who craft their own work in their own way, and extract and receive a fair price for it. All joking aside, that part's not depressing--and one with craft skills could go to Okmulgee (which makes many rural towns look cosmopolitan) and actually acquire the skills.
The absurdity of the notion, though, amused me.
Re:
Date: 2002-05-31 08:07 am (UTC)Whatever floats your boat!
As for the affordability of *art*-- any middle class person with enough disposable income to purchase weedeaters, and riding lawnmowers, and vacations to Cancun--can afford to buy *real art*-- it's a question of prioritys-- For a TRUE art lover--using money that would otherwise be spent on excessive electronic equipment that get's outdated in a decade or less--spending it on *real art* instead is not only more rewarding but it's an investment that grows with the passage of time. There are Art Collectors in NYC who started collecting pieces back in the 1950's and have amassed such huge collections of Abstract Expressionist works that they became one of the major donors to the MOMA when they were in their 80's. THAT is a true art lover. And they had no more extra money than the average middle class working person too... they just prioritized art above purchasing other *stuff*....
Know what I mean?
Frankly, IF I were to sell the theaters, and an earnest collector started buying them one by one as money was available, I dare say in 30 years after I'm dead-- they'd have quite a bundle on their hands.
no subject
Date: 2002-05-31 08:12 am (UTC)I think that you make a really good point about
the price of art. I suppose it is a question of priorities. I have no doubt that your theaters will one day be rather valuable. I suspect that if marketing were your key focus, they'd be rather valuable now. But that's another topic, and I'm speculating.
Yes, there are a lot of MOMA stories, as well as a lot of stories of folks who spent scads on art and it all proved overpriced. It's no more difficult than any other collectible, and, as you point out, offers more satisfaction than a power mower in the long run. So I think you have a point.
Re:
Date: 2002-05-31 08:16 am (UTC)artistic people
Date: 2002-05-31 08:21 am (UTC)less liable to be counterfeit than the 'experts'.
You buy any art for what you love in it. I agree.
Even if what you love is Thomas Kinkeade, that's what you should buy. If you don't love art, then
buy a power motor. And that's okay, too.
no subject
(This post is brought to you by the letter D for dorky, as in "The muse is dorky.")
no subject
Date: 2002-05-31 09:32 am (UTC)I'd offer to go to Boot Town near me, but
I'm afraid I don't know your style or taste.