DIY? Or DIWM and DIT?

It occurred to me yesterday that the thing about neo-bohemianism, besides that it's a simulacrum of actual bohemianism (which is a simulacrum of actually being poor), is that the ultra-specific niches many DIY artists -- think Brooklyn artisans making specialty chocolate from hand-roasted cocoa beans, and selling it at local stores (and over the Internet) -- carve out for themselves force them to be in community with others.

No one can live on artisan specialty chocolates. Not for long, anyway.

And no one can live exclusively on the other things that most DIY crowds create. These aren't self-supporting communes meant to bring together individuals with broad-based survival skills. They aren't practical. But their aesthetic -- local, handmade, unique, gourmet -- forces DIY experts/entrepreneurs to be in touch with the rest of their community in order to have access to staple foods and everyday necessities. (Toilet paper comes to mind as something I haven't seen marketed as "local, handmade, unique" -- the best DIYers can probably do there is "made from recycled materials.")

They choose to be in touch with each other because one of the purposes of a DIY, hipster community is to create a community bond. DIY enclaves must become "do it together" communities, since no single product, single-mindedly produced, can support even one individual.

And often there are groups of people -- families, couples, sets of friends -- who make their single product together, adding a "do it with me" element to the whole endeavor.

No mind that because the products they create are often unnecessary (crafts, jewelry) or unnecessarily difficult to produce (handmade) or unnecessarily fancy (gourmet), the economy DIYers are creating and supporting is as reliant on the general economy as any reviled suburb would be.

DIY aesthetic relies on a bit of forgetfulness, like the "Burning Man" economy of bartering -- once you're out there, "on your own," you're allowed to ignore the fact that that beer you're trading for curry out in the desert night was purchased, with US currency, at a package store before you came. It feels like trading; it feels like you're outside the rat race economic forces that compel you to go back to your "real job" when you pack up and head out.

It's kind of silly, actually, when you think about it, that we'd think of ourselves as above the rat racers.

But at least that forgetting allows us to remember a bit of what we should value in interactions with others, our food, our art, our music, our communities and ourselves. Even if at the end of the day, we're just playing at DIY.