The Issue at Hand
W e learn through our
hands in both mun-
dane and mysterious
ways. This drawing,
used in
Enigm a
by
Amos Paul Kennedy
Jr. (page
62),
depicts
an ancient Roman
“hand of power,” a talis-
man o f protection
and blessing.
N IC K O F F E R M A N H A S A D R E A M -
to go back to school. The self-
taught Los Angeles woodworker
envisions a nine-year curricu-
lum for himself. He’d start at
College of the Redwoods on
California’s Mendocino coast,
in the renowned program begun
by the late James Krenov.
“If I could just have three
years off to go to that school,” he
says longingly, “and then anoth-
er three years to go to the North
Bennet Street School in Boston,
because that’s a whole other set
of Federal and period techniques
that are mind-blowing. And
then I’d take a third three years
and I’d go to the Wooden Boat
School in Brooklin, Maine.”
It may be a little surprising
that Offerman harbors such
yearnings. From the outside,
he appears to want for nothing.
He’s not only an accomplished
furniture maker (page 48), but
also a star of a hit TV series,
Parks and Recreation,
where he
plays Ron Swanson, one of
the most memorably quirky
characters on the small screen.
He’s happily married to Megan
Mullally, who played the charm-
ing nutcase Karen Walker on
W ill & Grace.
So why does this Hollywood
big shot long for more schooling?
Because he knows firsthand -
as so many committed crafts-
people do - the thrills, comforts,
and sheer grounding power of
working with one’s hands. He
knows that, when you learn new
skills, you add to your manual,
mental, and emotional toolbox.
You multiply your opportunities
for self-fulfillment. You learn to
think in new ways. You make
creative progress, and the ben-
efits can be profound.
Throughout his life, and
especially in his years as a strug-
gling actor going from one audi-
tion to the next, woodworking
has been Offerman’s therapy,
lifeblood, salvation, and joy.
He’s not alone, of course. For
thousands of makers across the
country, handwork is one of
the most powerful forms of
stress relief- cheaper than a
shrink, more efficient than med-
itation, and a lot less risky than
drugs and alcohol.
So if making things by hand
is such a potent antidote to
life’s pressures, as so many have
discovered, are we teaching it
in school? Are we arming our
children with the craft skills they
need to make their own content-
ment, to withstand the blows and
hassles of modern life?
Well, not so much. As artist
Harriete Estel Berman (page
38) points out, our educational
apparatus seems focused on
increasingly formulaic teaching,
standardized testing, and quan-
tifiable results. In many places,
the arts have been squeezed out.
Some people view art class and
woodshop as luxuries we can’t
afford when our rank in the
global economy is at stake.
I understand the need for
standards in school, the need to
keep pace in the world. But I
worry that, as we drill facts into
heads, we neglect hands and
hearts. I worry that tomorrow’s
citizens will know calculus but
not the lathe. I’m grateful to
public figures like Offerman for
reminding people of the calm-
ing powers of handwork. I’m
grateful to North Bennet and
the other craft schools that not
only persevere but also inno-
vate (page 42). I’m grateful to
all those museums that offer
regular hands-on programming
for kids. And I’m grateful to
advocates such as Berman for
pointing out that our schools
may be undermining the inven-
tiveness we say we want to
instill in our children.
It seems obvious to many
of us: Learning to make things
brings unmatched rewards for
a lifetime. How can you help
spread the word?
08
american craft dec/jan 12
