Crochet, was, for a while, the bane of my life. After my parents split I was slowly submerged into an all-female environment and as soon as I realised what was happening, the increasing amount of knick-knacks around the house, the softening of musical tastes and the fixation on several soap operas of the time being just a few examples, I withdrew to my proverbial "cave". I began to "play up" at an early age, staying out late by my early teens and even getting drunk on occasion. My mother knew I wasn't happy with the current state of affairs, but she couldn't really help, she wasn't male, and naturally couldn't see things from my perspective. Who could blame her? After fighting through messy divorce through the courts for years, she simply didn't want to. I was a constant reminder of the "mistake" she had made, I even looked like the biological perpetrator. Furthermore, seeing as my parents didn't even live together for the first two years of my life, under the instructions of my mother's parents, by the time these two young and inexperienced and highly reluctant "lovers" finally conceded to be married my sister was well on the way. There just wasn't the inclination to discover her masculinity.
Life slowly degraded into ritual for both my mother and sister, and though there was 17 years between them they both loved the same things, the same TV programs, they'd sit together and laugh at timid and usually rather conservative sitcoms, they'd always get to bed early, my sister had a habit of retiring by 8:30pm, my mother would have a drink or two, finish marking her students' papers and then do the same. I knew I had to get out of there, I realised this at an age where I had no choice but to lump it and live with the situation. Dad couldn't afford to house and feed me, my mum and sister were comfortable with the way things were, and I slowly went out of control, mainly through various stints of drug experimentation, until eventually I was old enough to "run off to art college".
When I graduated, having seen little of either my mother or sister in three years my homecoming celebration consisted of a lukewarm cup of tea and a conversation with two strangers with an obsession with crochet. Yes they loved it, they both sat there, armed with crochet hooks, threading together hats and scarves and gloves, nodding as I spoke of the wild times in Brighton. I realised I had to get out, I'd only return one more time before never having to witness my family crocheting again.
Two things have happened recently that reminded me of those dull and staid days of my youth, or at least the family of my youth. One was my father's recent death and the realisation that the only male counterpart in my extended family I have had anything approaching meaningful dialogue and emotional exchange with, has gone. The other was the recent discovery of a strangely beguiling artist by the name of Nathan Vincent. What Nathan does with a crochet hook may seem unspeakable to at least a minority of red blooded males out there, I'm all for deconstruction and disassembly in art, but this NY based designer is taking apart something that at least conceptually represents for many manhood itself. A male iconography, however traditional and stereotyped, that projects an ideology of maleness throughout the history of cinema, the media, and the assumed male ego that corporate marketing teams feel they need to tap into to sell more cars.
By reimagining the totems of man through the soft and yielding medium of wool Nathan has managed to do something that many feminists have struggled to do for many years, he has emasculated mankind in one fowl swoop. The transition is unbelievably obvious yet potent, or rather impotent. Freud would have a field day with Vincent's work, focusing for the main, I am sure, on male heterosexuality and the mechanics of male physical desire. The truth is that Man's last testaments to brute force, will and strength are taking a bashing from this particular artist, leaving the male ego battered and bruised to a pulp. Look at these pieces to get an idea of just how he does it…
I'd particularly like to see more military technology conquered by crochet, at a time when Britain can hardly afford to clothe its army, I can't see why on earth we should continue to pretend we are anything like a world power, we are not, the empire collapsed before I was born, and now we are nothing more than a tiny, overcrowded and squabbling army. Crocheted nuclear missiles for me would be a natural progression for Vincent's ideological stance, life size if at all possible. Other military hardware would be an idea too, life-size tanks, perhaps an example or two of space technology (obviously not life-sized), but a space rocket has to be the ultimate in phallic posturing. Who knows, the world of men is Nathan Vincent's oyster, we will have to wait and see what he decides to "soften" next. If you've like to know more then check out this great interview with Nathan Vincent at Dwell.com.