Lately my bone to pick has been regarding elitism. Today is no different, although it might be a bit more brutal than normal. Since moving from a very liberal small town to a bigger (*cough* extremely conservative *cough*) town for the timebeing, I’ve been having some interesting conversations. There were even a few events where I was the only one wearing hot pink and red simultaneously.

While it has taught me how to eloquently sidestep political commentary, it has also highlighted the fact that a) in some circles the world “craft” is still pastoral and b) through time I have become blinded by the world I hold so dear. I’m going to save the ‘art vs. craft’ debate for another day, however, and skip over to the fact that sometimes elitism resides where we least expect it.

Despite what the internet or local indie boutique might seem to tell you, the current world of craft is tiny. Although I can tell someone from my own craft demographic (generally the combination of handmade and thrifted is a tellall) from 50 paces, that’s not the case for other craft demographics. What we often forget while we exchange links and discuss proper product placement and stall location at the upcoming kickass craft fair, is that we owe a great homage to the other world of craft that is overlooked.

What is commonly called ‘country crafts.’

The ‘country crafter’ is often ridiculed and mocked, bringing about visions of ill-dried glue, crooked balsa wood, and small animals made from fallen trees. In subverting the genre and creating ‘ironic craft’ we are just damning our forebears.

Martha Stewart seemed to push the hand-folded envelope with her perfectly moisturized hands, by showing that it is possible to combine the words “craft” and “cool.” Even if you have no clue what the term ‘hipster’ means. She made it okay to weave your own damn basket and acceptable to actually care about intricate place settings. For brunch. It’s like someone put Emily Post and Ma Kettle in a blender and then decked her out in beige with some kicky color like aubergine or nettle as an accent.

Overlooked at your local craft market or arts fair are scores of ‘country crafters’ who have been whittling or dying or sewing since birth, making so many ill-suited shirts with Bedazzlers and pottery pinch pots for your dresser that combined with a reclamation of the domestic, an ironic craft resurgence was born. It’s now hip to embroider sequins on tank tops and crochet tea cozies in the name of irony.

And it’s getting old.

Really old.

While I love irony more than most people, for the love of God, please stop mass manufacturing ironic t-shirts with your Gocco and selling them in Williamsburg. Eliminate “it’s so bad it’s hip” from your vocabulary. Your elitism is beginning to wear thin, when from the very beginning all you were doing was stealing from history anyway.

I call for more excitement and embracement of the craft of our forebears (even the ‘country crafters’) and trying to learn how to adapt it without the scathing and righteous attitude. So what if you don’t like Uncle Jim’s footstools that he handpainted with a trail of geese wearing bonnets. Instead of re-creating the wheel and making a footstool with punkrock geese wearing bonnets (geese with liberty spikes, perhaps?), take a minute to talk to your uncle about why he choose to paint those geese. Or how he learned. Or why he chose to forego a stencil.

Instead of griping about something like the old chestnut “Record purses were my idea!” take a minute to recollect your creativity. Because I promise, if you open up your conversation to crafters beyond your own demographic, you might just be ahead of the curve and opened up to new techniques you could never learn from googling “indie craft.”