I want to return to Matthew Crawford’s idea of ecologies of attention, which I talked about in this post.

The definition of an ecology of attention could be the following: a particular quality of craft endeavours, whereby they provide a pre-existing, well-defined framework of what to pay attention to and why, along with a clear notion of what the next step is in the activity’s progression towards the finished product.

Concepts such as this one might not represent reality in a perfectly accurate manner. ‘Craft’ type activities aren’t going to invariably provide tightly interconnected ecologies of attention and clear delimitations of what is part of the ecology and what isn’t. As most things that we try to capture with concepts, in reality the conceptualised thing never fits perfectly into the definition of the concept. Nonetheless, I think that across the whole range of craft activities we can more or less point out in each individual case the existence of its own ecology of attention. This is why I believe that this concept can be a useful prism through which we can renew and expand the value that we derive from engaging in these activities. To sum up, an ecology of attention is a rather simple concept. This means that although it does more or less apply to a wide range of cases, it is not very deep analytically speaking, in the sense that it doesn’t quite allow us to create a comprehensive model of its object.

This said, it follows that a rather simple but lean concept such as this will reveal its true value when applied to concrete cases for specific ends. In other words, it is good as a prism through which to look at what we are doing and then infuse it with richer meanings and intentions.

The example that I’m going to apply it to barely qualifies for ‘craft’ status, at least at the level that I would conceive doing it. Nonetheless, I’m fully certain that there are people who bring this practice not only to a craft status, but to an art form. In fact, claiming that is nothing out of the ordinary. So more precisely, the activity that I’m talking about is relearning handwriting in cursive at an elemental level.

How would we approach cursive writing as an activity that establishes an ecology of attention?

First off, the term ‘ecology’ is clearly central to this concept, so a simple definition is necessary. Ecology describes how organisms interact between each other and with the environment around them. If we were to extrapolate this term outside the realm of organisms and into that of handwriting, we could define the organisms as all the points of attention that are involved in the practice. The interaction between them would be what they articulate conjointly as a broader product (for example, a line of fluently, neatly written text in cursive). Then, we could define the environment as both the wider purposes that we can choose as a driver for the practice, and other points of attention from a domain not directly related to the practice, but that are valuable all the same.

It’s important to note that Matt Crawford principally refers to the literal physical environment that surrounds the craftwork. In my own interpretation of the concept I use the word environment partly literally and partly as a metaphor.

So, when we engage with a craft practice, we are immersing ourselves in its ecology of attention. There our minds can comfortably find a sort of predetermined ‘slots’ to which they can direct their focus on. These slots all interconnect with each other in the sense that as we work upon one of them, this one will simultaneously raise the others towards the achievement of the craft’s goal. That is, we don’t need to think too much about which one of these slots to focus on, as once we finish working on one we can already anticipate which others we will be working on and where we are going with this work overall.

In the case of cursive writing, if we don’t zoom out too much purpose-wise, we can say that the craft’s goal is to effortlessly write a beautiful, perfectly balanced piece of handwriting.

If I were to describe the ecology of attention of cursive writing, I would begin defining what its ‘organisms’ (or better said single points of attention) are. One way to do it would be to categorise them by scale or level of complexity.

For example, on a micro-scale, some points of attention would be traces, curves, letter angles and a proportional balance between the letterforms. We could also add the correct use of hand and arm muscle as another points of attention group: hand position relative to the paper, paper angle, pencil hold, distance from fingers to pencil tip while holding it and how much wrist effort we exert compared to forearm or finger muscle to push the pencil forward.

Then, on a middle scale, where we start thinking about writing full paragraphs, we begin to look at pacing (how fast we want to write), flow (how effortlessly without hesitation), consistency (always same angle, line gesture direction, size, proportion, etc.).

Then, on a broader scale, when we master these previous lesser scales to a point that they don’t require as much of our attention anymore, the nature of our points of our attention broadens and they become more complex. We begin to think about what type of paper is best, what pencil types will serve us for what we have in mind, or what other writing tool we want to try. We look at what new cursive styles or flourishes that we want to add, we look at how further we can relax our muscles to achieve a more nimble writing, or we look at existing work to find inspiration from other people’s writing.

It goes without saying that here the term attention refers to focus on these details, small or broad, while we perform what the craft activity is supposed to be. We roughly know where we want to go while we slowly push forward, driven by the consistent fulfilment of each of these points of attention. Once in a while, we stop and reflect, we consider how we are going to move forward, we look at what went wrong, we work on specific points of failure, etc. To begin to think about a purpose for the practice that goes beyond getting it right and becoming an effortless performer of it is something reserved for the ‘interacting with the environment’ phase. Up until now, all our attention is directed into the craft and all its self-contained parameters.

Eventually, we reach a point where the scale is broad enough that we might be starting to talk about the ‘organisms’ interaction not only between each other so as to create a skilled, tasteful and discerning handwriting practice, but also between the organisms and a wider set of domains. Since by definition the environment transcends the craft itself, it is not as easy to tell exactly what it is as it was with the craft. What makes the craft an appropriate support for an ecology of attention is that it is easy to define what it is and what it isn’t. Conversely, the environment is contextual. We can even go further and say that the environment is everything surrounding the craft that cannot be defined unless we know what the context of application of the craft is.

When it comes to the purpose part of the environment. It is useful to think about how a craft differs from a social media attention ecology. Social media consumption tends to be a fully engrossing experience, while a craft isn’t necessarily so. All points of attention are funnelled into a two-dimensional screen that predominantly demands our sight and hearing senses and an extremely limited embodied experience. In fact, if we think about it, the range of bodily types of interaction that we can engage in with social media are very few., as they are mostly related to thumb movement. Additionally, we can note how the experience itself is virtual, portable and at a reduced scale, depending on the screen that we are employing as our window into it.

Then, given that it is virtual, the efforts that we put into it do not pile up linearly towards a finished product. We can also call this a reactive and non-accumulative type of effort. It is reactive in the sense that our interaction with it is very limited, consisting only of us performing very few actions to command a more complex reaction from the social media application. It is non-accumulative in the sense that there is no linear progression towards anything in particular. As we engage with it, what we were doing before doesn’t add to what we are doing now, as we stay permanently in the same stage where the next piece of content will appear after the current one.

I think that one way to look at this difference between craft and social media is that the latter doesn’t interact with an open environment as much. The virtuality and portability of digital media by definition make it necessary to reduce a tangible interaction with the physical environment. Otherwise, it could not be self-contained and able to be taken anywhere without it changing its contents, affected by its separation from a place. The flip-side of such autonomy is that to engage with it, it needs to claim most of our attention while everything else that is foreign to it cannot participate in it.

Going back to the seemingly banal example of cursive writing, we can speak of an environment within which the interconnected web of points of attention of the attention ecology it belongs to interact. First of all, there is a sequential sense of purpose that is accumulative. As we acquire mastery over one aspect, and then we pile it upon mastery over another. Gradually, we build a sense of ease that allows us to turn our attention towards something else while still performing at a good level. In this way we allow a purpose to slowly sneak into our attention.

We realise that we can use our skills to make handwritten letters to our loved ones and we start a small project out of it. At the same time, the environment expands beyond cursive writing itself into an appreciation of beauty and harmony, or an appreciation for the little details that give a special resonance or evocative colouring to daily life. We begin finding inspiration on how else we can infuse other things in our lives and others’ lives with that subtle resonance of excellent handwriting that communicates thoughtfulness, dedication and aesthetically imbued pragmatism (few things can claim to have more utility than the written word).

This transformation of a practice from its rigid rules towards an incorporation of underlying abstract principles is what I mean by interaction with the environment in the sense of a linear purpose. Through the more elemental principles behind it, principles that concern many other things in the world as well, the craft radiates out of its own self-containment and filtrates out of its environment.

In a way, its ecology of attention strengthens and consolidates as we learn its foundations with careful focus, slowly transcending into a meaningful experience of it. Here I use the term ‘meaningful’ with a very specific definition: that everything that we do and perceive within this craft’s framework we value in its relation to a larger purpose. Namely, a flourish on a written name is not just a flourish that we want to execute perfectly, it holds more meaning than that. It is a signifier of affection and a moment of undivided attention to the recipient of our letter.

The other side of the idea of environment that I described above is the permeation of other points of attention into it that are foreign to the craft’s own ecology. What facilitates this is the clarity the craft provides upon both the definition of what each of its ‘organisms’ is and how they relate to one another. In other words, even though we need to make an effort to focus on each aspect of our cursive writing practice (as I listed them before) as we learn or apply it, it is a transparent, pure kind of attention. We know exactly what we are doing and where we are going. We don’t fret about it. So in this sense it doesn’t need to monopolise our focus energy to be done properly. What’s more, the practice’s points of attention can serve as a buffer against distractions, overwhelmed dithering, rumination or analysis paralysis. They silence the part of us that is desperate for direction, for keeping our minds occupied with something worthwhile when we cannot be constantly engaged in the most difficult, high-stakes areas of our lives that we normally consider as the ‘really productive ones’.

Thus, we have our rambling side appeased, and our attention both occupied and relaxed, calmly alighting on a clear, no-fuss framework. And it is in the space that this situation opens up that we can allow points of attention from other ecologies to invite themselves over to our practice. Simply said, as we exercise the craft, we think about something relevant from the news, we mull over an important experience in order to reach an interpretation of it, we think about what our next home will look like and how to get there, or what we can do to participate in making a change that we believe in, you name it. As I said previously, how the environment turns out depends on context, so each personal context with its own responsibilities, concerns, aspirations and values is different. The important thing is that the clear framework of the craft’s ecology of attention allows our intentions to develop calmly and pleasurably, as we keep our normally restless, indecisive attention happily, organically, productively occupied.

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