Although the digital camera has been invented and has usurped the analog camera as the professional standard throughout the last decade, some photographers still prefer the older methods. Over the past year, I have decided to change from mainly digital work to film myself; however, with that came all the extra expenses: Film, Development, Printing, etc. Because of this, I found my photographic process became elongated. Each step required precision and thought because if one part of the puzzle was missing, there wouldn't be an image to produce. I had to be more in touch with my surroundings to find these materials. I found places to get film and paper in my neighborhood, and with each piece came enthusiasts of that part of the process. With the ongoing debate on the relevance of film photography in a post-digital and AI world, I began to wonder what other hidden arts remain under similar circumstances.
Downtown Yarns, located on Avenue A, has been a hidden attraction and has stayed in business throughout the pandemic. Owner Leti Ruiz has been in charge of the operations for just over five years after taking over for her former boss, Rita Borbry. The shop's walls are covered head to toe in colorful yarn and crafts made by the store's cashiers and local hobbyists, inviting all to enjoy the world of comforting creativity. With my minimal experience in knitting, as I stepped in, I instantly recognized myself as an outsider. Like in Film Development labs, the smell of fixer can be off-putting to most, but for me, it tells me I have made it back to my space.
Similarly, I needed help identifying the small differentials between each yarn or the stitch types used to make the garments on the wall. However, after the initial over-stimulus, I was welcomed by kind and enthusiastic people. As I examined the objects that gave the shop its charm, I found ways to connect the practice back to myself. The Totoro on the shelf sent me to my childhood years watching my favorite animated films by Studio Ghibli or the 70s vest that reminds me of my love for the music and people that might have worn such an item. Within seconds, my lack of knowledge of the practice no longer mattered. These enthusiasts, Like Leti, have set out to keep their practice alive. The pandemic created a lot of foot traffic for stores like Downtown Yarns; however, once people returned to work, customers lost interest in their side hobbies to return to business.
Yet when talking to Leti, as she showed me her favorite yarns and asked questions about my camera, I could see we were one and the same. There is a difference between a craftsman and a hobbyist. One is no better than the other; however, the craftsman breathes and bleeds their craft. In a world speeding to convenience, the craftsman sacrifices efficiency for the process. The process becomes a part of the final product. The technological advancements of both the garment and photography industries have made human tactile work almost irrelevant. Yet, the craftsman chooses the labor not to increase the final product's value or beauty but to connect deeper with their creation. As we stand at the precipice of the following significant technological advancement, AI, we must ask ourselves what we are willing to lose to pursue efficiency?
