I’ve just chanced across a copy of The 1951 Gadgets Annual. It gives five hundred useful and ‘ingenious hobby ideas’. They include how to build a ukulele, turn an old felt hat into a shoe-sock, pose live fish for photographs, ‘titivate’ a bath mat and draw a silhouette portrait of the wife (‘… pose the wife between a sheet of paper and a strong light … Draw round the outline of this shadow, and let the wife relax …’).
Gadgets, with its mania for the homespun and its assumption that it’s not talking to the wife, is fascinating. But, as I flick through its pages, I am distracted by an unexpected sense of disquiet over its espousal of all things amateur. True, I’m suspicious of its invitation to ‘Be Your Own Electrician’ and chemical engineer – I think there are laws against that now. But something else is troubling me. Who, I ask myself, would dare make a wedding present of a papier-maché fruit display? Who would sport a miniature homemade flower vase on their lapel? Who would try to bamboozle their guests with ‘The Puzzling Bran-Canister’ trick? Not me! For I am suffering from a form of cultural cringe, a symptom of a contemporary collective embarrassment toward handicraft and hobbies.
Nowadays we believe we can buy much better things than we could produce ourselves, and getting what we want requires no more effort than a barely prehensile prod at a keypad. We have become consummate consumers, gourmets of culture, super-spectators, and our sophistication as audience-critics has out-stripped our making and performing skills. But the old hobbies, games and handicrafts haven’t disappeared. Instead they’ve changed from something we do into something we watch. TV programmes on DIY themes from cooking to home makeovers to ballroom dancing have professionalised the amateur: the old parlour games are played by professional entertainers, while amateur performers compete for the affirmation of fame and a professional contract. And so, whether we judge ourselves lacking the wit of TV quiz panellists at one extreme or gawk at the humiliation of talent show competitors at the other, most of us daren’t risk it ourselves.
We fear the amateur in case it causes us to loose face and look uncool. But at the root of the word amateur is the Latin amare, to love. An amateur pursuit is something we have genuine passion for, regardless of how we look to the outside world. By abandoning it, we lose the pleasure of doing something that is playful, creative, absorbing, and solely for itself.