Since I've started scrapbooking regularly again, when my friends ask "What'd you do last night?" I always feel like a little bit of a geek when I tell them I was crafting. This is not to say my friends aren't totally supportive and think what we make is badass, it's just sounds so... lame.
We need to elevate this shit.
I live in a city where women work fourteen hour days in sky high Jeffrey Campbells and spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on their educations. Try telling one of these people over Sunday brunch that you’re a scrapbooker. You can actually see the respect vacate their eyeballs.
What we do is amazing, but it has a really, really bad rep. I guess it does sound kinda self absorbed, obsessing over minute details of our lives and analyzing which of the dozen photos will say it "just right" or what the perfect shade of gold is. I mean, we are those people, but we need to set shit right. We are graphic designers in physical form. We are observers and documenters and treasurers. We are making things that matter, even if we are only making them for a very small section of humanity. People make fucking pickles here and get more props than us. (Pickles are my jam, but pickling is way easier than like, exacto knifing, ya know?)
I'm not saying we should be demanding recognition or glory or grad school options at NYU, but it'd be cool to talk about what we do in a non depreciative way. I think it's great that I can look at my books and be like, "Oh yeah, in 2009 Yeasayer was on my playlist constantly" or "I miss that coffee place in Long Island City, we should go back there soon!" or "Remember when we used to hang out at Matchless all the time? We were such losers!" or whatever.
I guess it hits close to home for me, because I see this a lot in my other passion, Interior Design. What we study in school is 86% architecture, but people still say "Oh you pick out pillows and curtains all day, how hard is that?" as if they have ever touched AutoCAD or know how frustrating it is (coordinating the contractor and the electrician and the AV guy and the painters and the metal worker and the carpenter and upholsterer and the California Closets people and the wallpaper guy and Smith and Noble and then the furniture and then the finishes and fabrics and then the fucking pillows). If we mess something up, a hundred pound $10,000 chandelier can fall down on someone's head. Shitzreal.
Am I just way too passionate for life?? I feel like at this age I should just accept it, but I feel this constant need to validate my passions as relevant and meaningful.How do you handle this subject with people who don't "get" it?