In the 21st century the traditions of craft in Hawaii are doing just fine. Based on the high number of submissions to this year’s juried exhibition that came from Oahu alone, there is certainly no shortage of local sculptors, weavers, potters and workers of wood, metal and glass who want to share their work. Renowned writer, craft historian, teacher and juror Janet Koplos selected only a few pieces from the hundreds she saw during a whirlwind tour of the islands.

Though the opinion of an outsider might make good kindling for a grumbling session about who was shooed in, overlooked, undeservedly praised, misunderstood or outright dissed, ultimately the members of the Hawai‘i Craftsmen take care of and celebrate their own, as they have since 1966. So what role does a "juror of national or international reputation" play? Primarily that of a mirror that not only reflects light, but bends it as well.

Koplos informed me that her selection isn’t based on medium, style or even her own personal tastes. She looks for pieces that speak to her through innovative use of form and materials, and where that is lacking she looks for skill, mastery and imagination. Once a work takes hold, she looks for others that can dialogue with and reflect it, and these connections end up ignoring conventions, classifications, trends and even the artist’s own opinions.

If that sounds a bit arbitrary, it is, especially since considering the work on display at this year’s exhibition as "the best" Hawaii has to offer would be a mistake. Not because selected works are of low quality, but because for the most part we’ve seen it all before. Feather lei maker Boris Huang is famous, Google auto-completes Tamsen Fox’s name, and many of the vases and bowls on display are basically interchangeable with works from the past and the future.

But this is no secret! This is what the traditions of an island-bound art ecosystem look like, and everyone involved knows how limited, slow-moving and conservative forces govern artistic career paths. During the Q&A session after her talk, commenting on the difficulties that neighbor island artists have getting their work to Oahu if she decides to include a piece, Koplos asked what would happen if the annual exhibition were held on an island other than Oahu. The answer? "It would be a small show," implicitly asserting geographic privilege, and confirming an Oahu-centrism that makes up one part of the status quo.

All is not lost, however, because Hawaii’s slow rate of craft evolution appears to place it ahead of an emerging curve. Koplos points out that many contemporary artists with zero training in sewing or pot throwing are appropriating "ideologies of craft" in works that are shown in galleries and museums. The Maker’s Movement and early experiments with 3-D scanning, modeling and printing also mark a return to craft and a revitalized consideration of materials and everyday use.

Unlike the shell game that contemporary art can sometimes play with materials, meaning and intent, even a gourd, bowl or vase rendered "unusable" for all of its exquisite perforations never loses its deep roots in ancient practicality. This is both a source of cultural strength and innovation, creating a new context for feather lei, traditional Hawaiian weaponry, techniques inherited from Asia and other indigenous expressions.

I have intentionally minimized the direct discussion of works on display. First, because no neighbor island selections were on Oahu to meet the deadline for this review. Second, I believe that Koplos hopes that viewers see the works in relation to one another, not necessarily according to their creators, thereby cultivating connections that transcend the context of prizes, mentions and collectability.

Koplos recognized that independent of her opinions, Hawaii’s craftspeople are working hard and producing great things. She would remind us that the gallery or museum should be treated as a site of inquiry, not a system of arbitration. In the end it is up to us to determine the best way to push each other into new territories.