A Golden Age
Generalizing about your own moment in history is always risky and usually foolish. To claim that today’s politicians/youth/fashions (take your pick) are the most corrupt/cynical/vacuous (pick again) typically exposes, at best, a historical parochialism and, at worst, a moronic ignorance. But like so many before me, I much prefer to offer this caution than heed it. And besides, it’s worth stepping back sometimes to take a look at the bigger picture and venture some conclusions, even if they’re wrong.
So here’s one: We are living right now in a golden age of fly tying. (I’m not quite prepared to say publicly that we are living in the golden age of fly tying, though I happen to believe this is also true.)
Okay, as big pictures go, maybe this isn’t terribly huge. And I’m not suggesting that, up until now, fly tying has been somehow stagnant; the craft has been motoring along just fine for centuries. At the same time, however, the creative energy that is currently being brought to fly designs, tying methods, and uses of materials—and the general rise in technical proficiency—are nothing short of extraordinary. Everywhere you turn there are interesting ideas, innovative techniques, and new thinking. In almost 40 years of tying, and of 20 spent closely tracking tiers and their work, both current and historical, I’ve never seen the craft more robust and dynamic than it is now. More remarkably still, this infusion of creative talent, this invigoration, is coming largely from fly-tying “amateurs”—a word that has, regrettably, been corrupted to mean “unskilled.” But in its original etymological sense of “lover,” “one who pursues a thing for its own sake,” the word carries no such suggestion; it does not mean “inexpert,” only “nonprofessional.” And the skill, the sheer inventiveness, of many of these “amateurs” is quite humbling.
Every year, I watch scores of such tiers at demonstrations and expos and view the finished work of perhaps ten times as many. And two things stand out. First is a freshness and liberty of thinking—in pattern design, in the representational ideas behind their flies, in the improvisational and experimental use of materials. Nothing is sacred. Techniques and materials from saltwater and Atlantic-salmon tying are imported into trout flies. There’s little of the older skepticism about synthetics, and the number of flies that incorporate foam, glass beads, epoxies, artificial films, fabrics, and fibers is amazing. That the finished patterns are not often to my taste means nothing; they are ingenious, sometimes brilliant.
The second trend may seem in ways opposed to the first—technical discipline, an emphasis on clean tying, precise thread control, and the well-executed elements of craft. A great many tiers today tie beautifully, and many of them are hardly more than kids (admittedly, a category that grows larger for me with each passing year). Their finished flies are models of pleasing proportions, of trim and scrupulous construction, precision, and neatness. I’ve looked at many flies produced by the famous tiers of the past, and they are still among the best examples of craftsmanship to be found. The difference now is that an astonishing number of tiers are working at or near that level, and most of them aren’t famous at all. Perhaps more significantly, the degree of technical skill among tiers in general seems to me perceptibly higher than in the past. About 10 years after I started tying, I began comparing my flies to those I saw in fly shops, in books and magazines, from other tiers. I consider myself coldly objective about my own abilities (yes, I know everyone thinks this about themselves, but I really am), and at that time I judged my work in the top 20 percent or so in terms of clean technique. Today, I’d say I’m in the bottom half—and I’ve improved at least a little in three decades. Things have gotten that good. Whenever I discuss this trend in technical proficiency with well-known tiers, which I do often, their response is invariably the same: “It’s simply unbelievable.”
In fact, immaculate technique has become something of a fetish in certain quarters these days, where there is a zealous insistence on doing things the “proper” way. But fly tying has always had its pockets of extremism, typically focused on designs or materials; technique is merely the form it’s taking in our own age. And while I’m the first to admit that extremists of any stripe are generally annoying, their influence on tying is usually salutary, as it has been in this case.
This infusion of energy into tying appears to have no regional epicenter. Very fine amateur tiers are cropping up everywhere, though there seems to me particularly interesting activity in North Carolina, Vermont, Michigan, Wyoming, and unsurprisingly, Colorado and California, states with long and vital tying traditions that have become more vigorous still in recent years.
How recent? I’d say the golden age dawned ten, maybe fifteen, years ago; this kind of thing happens gradually, and it’s hard to be exact. The more interesting question, though, is “Why?” What is responsible for the surge in interest or creativity or innovation? Why all this new talent in tying now?
No one reason can explain the phenomenon, I think. Rather, a number of intersecting trends and circumstances have provided a kind of critical mass, though even then sifting causes from effects is an uncertain proposition. But here are some reasons I see, in no particular order of priority.
First, the gear. I think it’s safe to say that tying tools and materials have never been more numerous, more widely available, more varied, or better. Whether this tempting repertoire of equipment has encouraged tying or more tiers have fueled a demand for better gear is impossible to say. It has probably worked both ways. But the upshot is that good tools make tying easier, and the huge range of high-quality materials all but begs for innovation. Today’s tier has a well-stocked laboratory in which to work and no qualms about experimenting.
Second, instruction. The resources available in this respect are boggling. Again, whether supply has created demand, or vice versa, the net result is that fly tying instruction—from books and magazines to videos and DVDs to classes, seminars, and demonstrations—has never been easier to get, more comprehensive, or better calculated for efficiency. Tiers of my generation tend to be largely self-taught, having begun with a very small handful of very bad books and finding their own way from there. Today, the pace of learning has so accelerated that a determined novice can master in a matter of months elements of the craft that took some of us years to learn. Tiers now getter better, faster.
Copyright © 2012 Intermedia Outdoors
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