As part of his 'Law of Three Stages' the 19th century philosopher, Auguste Comte considered fetishism to be the lowest form in the Theological stage of societal development. Just as Theology would evolve into Metaphysics and thence into Science, so fetishism could be observed to evolve, he contended, into the higher forms of polytheism and monotheism.
Well, he may have been one of the founding fathers of the field of sociology but Monsieur Comte, clearly, had never experienced the process of building a guitar.
A 'fetish' (from the Latin: facticius, "artificial" and facere, "to make") is an object believed to have supernatural powers. More particularly, a fetish (and its near-cousin, the talisman) is a man-made object considered to be the seat or 'house', of a spirit, and thus containing and conferring power over the material and spiritual worlds to its owner. A beneficial thumb on the scales of existence, if you like. So it follows that the practice of fetishism is that act of attribution of inherent value or power to an object.
To construct a fetish one begins with a purpose, held firmly and clearly in mind. One then selects and combines constituent materials (bone, wood, blood, skin, et cetera) with intent, diligence and reverence, inviting — through one's focused concentration and will — the spirit whose power you wish to benefit from to enter the object you have made.
If you have done well, your fetish and its attendant spirit will reward you with blessings and grace in full measure. A talisman or fetish (or 'amulet' if you want to wear it round your neck) is a potent object. Personal. Resonant. Transcendent. It has a 'field' — simultaneously electric, magnetic and transforming. It hums with an independent vitality of its own.
Sure. That's what a fetish is alright.
Because none of us thought of that *other* definition of 'fetish', did we? That definition which is all to do with unhealthy obsessions and the misattachment of certain...values...to certain...things...and anyway, even if we did think of that definition, I'm sure none of us engage in anything even remotely resembling the sort of sordid, unhealthy fixated behaviour it describes.
Now this all came to mind simply because one of our commenters (hi there, Mats!) recently raised the question of customisation vs design. Basically, he said, what's the point of customisation (along various degrees of 'pimp my ride') when fundamental design flaws remain unaddressed? Well that sounded like a very interesting question to me so I thought up some distinctions.
CUSTOMISATION, I decided, is about uniqueness. It's about identity and differentiation. On the other hand, DESIGN is about functionality and fit-for-purpose. The direction of customisation is outside in. The direction of design is inside out.
A. The work of design will reliably deliver the goals of customisation as a natural, parallel effect.
B. The work of customisation will deliver the goals of design only by infrequent and happy accident, if at all.
So that's the first thing. Although their values are at odds, design and customisation are still not quite opposites. They're not even quite two sides of the same coin. The second thing I realised is that those distinctions between customisation and design, lovely as they are, are all about process and intention.
Because of this I now have a theory about what happens when you embark upon the building of a bespoke instrument. It is this:
While a client and luthier may have plenty of choice about the practicalities of building an instrument — what you do with what materials and how — the fact is that psychologically, emotionally, spiritually, you have no choice at all about the class of object you're going to produce as an end result.
Like it or not — whether 'designing', 'customising', 'crafting', 'building' or just throwing bits together at random — you're only ever doing one of three things:
• Constructing a fetish
• Feeding a fetish
• Or both
Recent Comments