In our series so far on Connoisseurship, we’ve discussed the definition of connoisseurship (post 1), the aspects of an object the connoisseur engages with (post 2), and connoisseurshipâs academic legacy (post 3). This post is about sham connoisseurship.
The idea that luxury is in the eye of the beholder is one we’ve discussed before on Janus Thinking. Items that people consider to be luxury goods do not necessarily need to be expensive; all luxury is personal and relative, and a good’s quality, price, and how it makes the buyer feel should all be taken into consideration when evaluating luxury.
But is it possible to become a connoisseur of things that aren’t high art or ‘matters of taste’? Can one become a connoisseur of items that provide ‘luxury’ for the masses? I believe the answer is yes, but the rules of connoisseurship don’t change.
Connoisseurship requires an intense interest in the subject; it requires research, analysis, discipline, and hard work. The connoisseur doesn’t put on airs, or use his knowledge to show off. The Oxford Companion to Art (1970) makes this clear:
The possession of a sound body of knowledge gained by discipline and hard work in the service of aesthetic values together with the will and the power to advance them without regard to personal or mundane considerations is the special characteristic of the connoisseur.
For masstige and inexpensive luxury items, the lower barrier of entry for access to the object must not lower the standard by which the connoisseur evaluates and appreciates the object. But it tempting to think that something with a lower price doesn’t deserve proper scrutiny.
We look to artisanal breads and other products for an example. This recent post on ‘This Blog Sits at the Intersection of Anthropology and Economics’ about the artisanal movement makes reference to a ‘new connoisseurship’:
Artisanal products are not without a certain claim to sophistication. Artisanal salt, cheese, bread, these are all better than their non-artisanal equivalents, and any discerning palate can tell this is so. There is, in other words, a kind of connoisseurship at work. But it is a roomy connoisseurship. Unlike French wine, there are no rules and regs that constrain how something is served, how long it must breathe, or the food with which it may be eaten. There are no real demands for reverence. Artisanal foods can be served and eaten in any way. No special forks required. Artisanal food allows us be discerning without actually requiring us to learn anything. We get to be special without being specialized. To this extent artisanal food helps play out our expressive individualism.
I disagree with this idea. You might be able to instantly ‘appreciate’ a piece of fancy bread as you eat it, but that doesn’t immediately make you a bread connoisseur. You don’t know the composition of the bread, the type of flour used, the ratio of ingredients, the process used to make it, the type of oven, etc. It’s easy to appreciate the bread because it tastes good, but that doesn’t make you a connoisseur. Connoisseurship requires an understanding of the bread’s provenance. The connoisseur will be aware of the bread or other item’s ritual (the ‘rules and regs that constrain how something is served’), but only in a way that enhances the enjoyment of the item.
Sham connoisseurship is this idea that it takes no effort to become connoisseur. Becoming a connoisseur makes should take effort and contemplation, but it shouldn’t be difficult or unpleasant—the process of learning about an object one is interested in should be a reward in itself.
How modern connoisseurs take their knowledge and use it to customize and create experiences will be the subject of our next connoisseurship post.
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