I wrote time and again about the perils of excessive screen time – and yet. My screen time has more than doubled, even though i don’t have to spend eight hours a day in front of a computer anymore, and have very limited use of my laptop otherwise. But that’s the thing: instead of using my laptop, a device that encourages creation, i’ve been using my tablet, a device that encourages consumption.
For the first time since i’ve learnt to read and write, i’m not killing time by reading nor writing. I’m killing time (and my brain) by watching video upon video upon video. I’ve not written anything of substance, i’ve not coded, i’ve not taken photos, i’ve not worked on my font-in-progress, i’ve not played music, in weeks. No wonder i’ve been feeling like crap.
The fix is easy, but it requires a willpower i’ve never needed to possess. I had to trick myself to spend less time behind a dumb screen by walking everywhere, reading hardcover books, writing longhand… and not charging my tablet. Wouldn’t you know it? I already feel better. I’ll have to keep on tricking myself until i can establish a new routine. Turns out, old habits die easily, and they were the only thing protecting me from brain rot.
Books
The Craftsman by Richard Sennett. The first volume of a trilogy about material ways of making culture, The Craftsman is an antidote to Hannah Arendt’s dismissive take on the meaningfulness of labour. I’ve never been convinced by Arendt’s distinction between “labour” (work for survival), “work” (the production of works of art), and “action” (creativity for creativity’s sake). It implies that uniqueness is the pinnacle not only of work, but of all human pursuits, because it’s an expression of one’s freedom.
Trouble is, i don’t think you can separate art and craft that easily. There’s an art in craft, and there’s a craft in art, that comes from sheer repetition. The Ancient Greeks were on to something with the concept of technè: the materials, the methods, the activity and the outcome are all part of a creative continuum. You can only teach your craft because you understand how minute variations in the materials, the methods and the activity will influence the outcomes.
Sennett argues that “the desire to do a job well for its own sake”, which is key to the ethos of craftsmanship, is a worthwhile pursuit. There’s no doubt that Taylorism and Fordism, two of the worst American exports, sucked all meaning out of work, but it’s not because they celebrate the repetitiveness of the assembly line. It’s precisely because they celebrate uniqueness – the uniqueness of the model, the uniqueness of the mould, the uniqueness of the special-purpose tool.
By severing art from craft, Arendt opened the way for a capitalist reading of her work. If “action” is better than “labour” and the financial elites are better than the working masses, then the actions of the financial elites can justify the labour of the working masses. Working on an assembly line becomes desirable because you’re helping a self-proclaimed genius express their freedom. The whole of Silicon Valley is built on that premise of creativity by association.
“Art is made with the hands”, said Henri Focillon, “they are the instrument of creation, but even before that, they are an organ of knowledge”. Uniqueness lies between your hand and your work: even when you’re laying the umpteenth brick, shaping the umpteenth baguette, writing the umpteenth article, throwing the umpteenth pot, screwing the umpteenth screw, pushing the umpteenth pixel, the minute changes in this umpteenth attempt make all the difference.
The moment your hand stops shaping your work is the moment you stop working and the moment you start being exploited. It’s as easy as that. By a weird twist, there’s now far less freedom in “mental labour” than in “manual labour”, because most white-collar jobs are all about process without much consideration for the outcome. “Art is made with the hands”. Work is too.
TV Shows
Film Club by Ralph Davis and Aimee Lou Wood. Writing for The Guardian, Rachel Aroesti perfectly sums it up: “Film Club isn’t actually about mental illness. It’s not really a love story, either. It’s not even about film buffs”. Evie’s sudden agoraphobia strays dangerously close to MacGuffin territory, her attraction to Noa verges on gooning, and the titular film club is decidedly suburban. Suranne Jones steals the show as Evie’s try-hard mother, though, and the whole family dynamic was delightful.
Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist by Austin Winsberg. The conceit – software developer Zoey has the ability to hear the innermost thoughts of people as songs – is pure absurdist American sitcom. The first season was tightly wound around the grieving of a loss that hasn’t happened yet, but after Zoey’s father’s death, the second season tackled far too many big issues (gender inequality, workplace diversity and queer identity) far too superficially. I’m not surprised it was eventually cancelled, but if you like jukebox musical comedies, it’s still an eminently entertaining watch.