I was walking into the pro shop of a well-known club that I am working on.
As I walked in the door to have a visit with the golf pro, a cadre of members was there having a hit and giggle around the simulators they have set up to keep their members engaged as we work diligently on their golf course.
As I enter the room, one of the members pipes up, "Here is the artist."
I politely thank them, but in my guts, I bristle.
"I am not an artist; I am a craftsman."
I repeat this internally, as a majority of golfers aren't interested in the philosophical difference.
Why do I make such a distinction?
Well, there's a clear difference between art and craft. I am not saying that great craftsmen's works can't and aren't regularly elevated to the level of art (I haven't been to an art museum worth its salt that doesn't have at least one piece of furniture on display).
But even in those pieces, the craft is different from the art it hangs across from, as it has to function and it had to have an economic reason to exist. Nobody is frivolously making ornate cabinetry, for instance.
Nobody learns how to turn a chair leg without apprenticeship.
Nobody looks at a freshly tightly bound basket and says, "Hey, this is art." That judgment comes after with time.
Golf architecture and construction is clearly a craft, and it was recognized as one in the golden era of golf architecture. As articles on the subject made their way into the high temples of the arts and crafts movement, such as Country Life and other craft-focused publications, it's this spirit in which our best firms work.
With a keen-eyed master guiding the development of their apprentices, editing and encouraging their growth. It's why I think it's important for golf architects to have experience in all aspects of construction, not just from the textbook but with their hands.
Not saying that David McLay Kid needs to lay the drainage pipe himself, but it might have helped him in a place here or there.
It's the same reason I have encouraged some of the architects I have worked with to help me shape, as they have never sat in that chair for eight hours whittling away at the clay to uncover the forms that will define the golf course. Those experiences make you better not only as an architect but as a person, as it enables you to have a connection to the process, which is the heart of craft.
Nothing happens in craft outside of the process. Everything extraneous must be stripped bare as it doesn't help the final product to waste time and mental/physical energy on things that won't get us to our final functional product.
That's my view anyway.