Is there such a thing as being self-taught when it comes to crafting? The more I make videos teaching knitting techniques, the more I believe we must rethink this concept.
A few years ago, my friend Flavia Lhacer, a long-time partner for craft classes and embroidery teacher, pointed out an interview in a famous magazine of a former student who started teaching. In the interview, she said she learned to embroider by herself by watching videos on YouTube.
Since we knew the student, we didn’t quite understand why someone would prefer to hide the existence of a teacher in her life. Was she afraid of competition? Did she believe that discrediting her former teacher would make her a superhero with the superpower of taking a needle in her hands and magically learning how to pass it through a fabric?
Even though it’s a common practice in academic life to credit everything — I mean, everything must have a source, and you never have a thought of your own — we’re constantly discrediting teachers and experts. I often wonder what life would be like if we had to credit an idea or a creation from its beginning — we'd have to run credits like they do at the end of a movie.
Another thought on this is that we culturally undervalue teaching as a profession by saying things like “do you actually work or do you only teach?,” or “those who can’t do, teach”. As a knitwear teacher, I teach so my students can fill the places I’m unable to. I’m able to, and do so much more than teaching; I could call myself a “knitwear designer,” but I do like to add “teacher” because that's 90% of my job. I could have a brand, start a knitwear company, and become a knitwear designer. But I’d rather work as a teacher.
Historically, crafts were separated from arts to elevate artists and their names, and undervalue crafts and crafters. The naming and crediting of artists made it possible for there to be works of art that cost more than a country's GDP.
We study history by looking at pictures painted by artists, which show an artist’s point of view. If we think more anthropologically, crafts are the true expression of a time and people. In the “The Craftsmen” by Richard Sennett, the author explains why the bricks in London are red by listing the materials available, techniques used, and the environment of the time, painting a clear picture of that era.
Back to the interview, the second problem I want to point out is that YouTube is just a platform. There are teachers behind the videos. Teachers who had to think of a method that makes it easier to watch and learn, who keep searching for the best camera angle and lighting that makes it clear for the viewer to understand what's being explained. For me, it’s even important to include a few key sentences that'll stick in the minds of viewers, almost like a meditative mantra.
So, yes, teachers behind the cameras are trying their best to provide viewers with the best possible learning experience. But just because you’re alone in your house, without a teacher by your side, doesn’t mean you're self-taught.
If you learned a technique in a book, remember that someone wrote that book. Someone had to describe, in writing, all the necessary movements to coordinate hands and yarn to make the perfect yarn over.
The last part of my critique of the interview is that if a teacher states that they “learned by themself on YouTube,” why would someone take a class with them? Wouldn’t students prefer to follow the same path and find a good YouTube video?
When I stop and think about my mom teaching me knitting when I was 8, I unravel this thread further to her taking knitting classes at school when she was young. Based on what she taught me — continental style knitting through the back loop and purling in a different way — I can tell she had an Italian teacher. I wish I could unravel it to the first-ever knit stitch so that this whole story could be told with all teachers credited.
