Craft & Consciousness: Toward an Indigenous Aesthetics of Being
The relationship between craftand consciousnessis not a metaphor; it is a lived ontology. For centuries, artisanal communities across India have sustained a way of life where making is indistinguishable from thinking, and thinking itself is rooted in the gestures of the hand, the rhythms of the body, and the relational intelligence between land, material, and maker. At Takshni, we seek to foreground this ontology, not as nostalgia, nor as cultural capital, but as a vital framework through which to understand an alternative aesthetic, ecological, and ethical order.
The marginalisation of craft in dominant cultural discourse is a result of modernity’s long-standing binaries: mind versus body, theory versus practice, art versus labour. As cultural theorist Glenn Adamson argues in Thinking Through Craft(2007), this division is historically constructed. “Craft has often been defined by what it is not,” he writes; it is “not fine art, not industry, not design, and not intellectually grounded.” However, Adamson suggests that craft offers a form of knowledge that is embodied, precise, and resistant to disembodied abstraction. The knowledge of the craftsperson is not transmitted through formal language, but through repetition, proximity, and apprenticeship; it is a process of knowing-in-doing.
In the Indian context, this distinction is even more pronounced, especially when viewed through a postcolonial lens. During the colonial period, British policies actively devalued Indian craft traditions, characterising them as stagnant, non-innovative, and unsuited for the industrial age. As scholars like Partha Chatterjee and Arjun Appadurai have shown, colonial epistemology often reduced artisanal knowledge to folklore, stripping it of its intellectual legitimacy. Yet, even within this historical violence, Indian craftspeople preserved and evolved complex systems of knowledge that remain deeply attuned to ecological cycles, spiritual cosmologies, and social memory.
Consider the Khatris of Kutch, custodians of resist-dyeing techniques such as Bandhani and Ajrakh. In a 2016 oral history interview withKhamir Craft Resource Centre, master artisan Rajuben Khatri explained,“My fingers know where the dot must fall; I do not use a scale. This was taught by watching, not speaking.”This kind of knowing cannot be digitised or automated; it lives in the tempo of the body and in intergenerational time. It is, in essence, a form of consciousness—situated, relational, and mnemonic.
The anthropologist Tim Ingold, in The Perception of the Environment(2000), challenges the idea of the maker as a manipulator of inert materials. Instead, he proposes a model where the artisan correspondswith the material. “Materials are not passive,” writes Ingold; “they have tendencies, propensities, and lines of flight.” This relational understanding is well aligned with indigenous craft systems in India, where the material is not a neutral substrate but a co-agent. The potter does not dominate the clay; the weaver listens to the tension in the warp. These practices constitute a phenomenological relationship with the world; they are slow, attentive, and dialogic.
Such slowness is not a matter of pace alone; it is a methodology. Theorist Ashish Kothari, in his work with the Kalpavriksh Collective, has spoken about swaraj—a concept of self-rule that is ecological, decentralised, and rooted in place-based knowledge. Craft, when understood as swaraj, becomes an act of autonomy; not merely economic autonomy, but ontological autonomy. It allows the maker to exist within a cosmology that is not defined by extraction, acceleration, or fragmentation.
Postcolonial theorist Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak reminds us that “the subaltern cannot speak” unless the conditions of listening are transformed. The subaltern artisan—often rural, often from oppressed caste locations—does not simply need representation in galleries or design fairs; what is required is a reconfiguration of the frameworks through which their knowledge is read, valued, and sustained. At Takshni, we take this as a call to shift from showcasing to co-creating; from elevating the product to engaging the process; from aestheticising the object to understanding its cosmological ground.
As contemporary craft practices encounter market systems, urban interventions, and curatorial projects, it is crucial to hold this tension with care. Craft must not be reduced to its commercial visibility or fashionable “authenticity.” Nor should it be frozen into heritage as a static relic. It is a living system of thought and method that carries within it the seeds of a more conscious world.
To engage with craft as consciousness is to engage with slowness, with discipline, and with the possibility of restoration—both ecological and emotional. It is to ask different questions: not“what can we make quickly?”but“how can we live meaningfully?”In choosing the latter, craft does not simply resist the velocity of modern life; it offers a way of being that is intimate, durable, and wise.
At Takshni, we hold space for these forms of wisdom. Through collaboration, curation, and critical inquiry, we work to support practices that are not only beautiful but also epistemologically rich. Craft, in this vision, is not a return to the past but a return to presence. It is a movement inward; it is a philosophy in the making.