Someone asked recently about what is expected for receiving a award of high merit in the arts (e.g. OVO). I didn’t weigh in at the time as it was in an inter-kingdom context and answers were therefore widely varying, but I do have some thoughts based on my own personal experience.

For the most part, there are three kingdom level arts awards in Meridies. When evaluating whether to recommend someone for them, I consider both the personal prowess of the individual and their engagement and impact on the kingdom as a whole.

First, the Meridian Cross. This is given for promise in the arts and sciences. It is purely concerned with personal prowess and recognizes potential for further growth. This award will likely be given as a result of recommendations from people in your local area. Imagine that it is a spark that can be seen in the darkness.

Next is the Velvet Owl. The potential recognized by the Meridian Cross has been realized, and the candidate has continued to improve their research and execution. They are consistent and diligent. This is the point where a candidate should be influencing others: they should be teaching both in their local area and elsewhere in the kingdom. They may be helping organize guilds or holding the A&S office in their local group. They should be making connections within the A&S community throughout the kingdom. The OVO is a polling order, and they can only vote on people that they have the opportunity to know. Imagine that they are a lamp that is not only visible, but illuminates the area around them.

Finally there is the Laurel. Prowess and teaching are expected at this point. The candidate should be known as an expert in their field both by other experts and those who seek to learn. They should exhibit good judgment in their evaluation of candidates for the OVO and have a broad network of connections throughout the kingdom and possibly beyond. They should have a grasp of the workings of the Kingdom at large, for the arts do not happen in a vacuum. They should be aware of the effects they have on others and strive to raise up those around them. Imagine now that they are a torch that not only sheds light, but lights candles around them.

If it sounds like the OVO and Laurel require a lot of effort, that’s because they do. They require more than simply making art, because the Kingdom needs more than just artists. It needs teachers. It needs leaders. It needs people who use their art to enrich others and make a Society out of a group of individuals. Not everyone will want to do this much work, especially when much of that work actually takes time away from making one’s own art. Work requires sacrifice, and that sacrifice is, in part, what these awards recognize. Personally, I take as much joy in teaching and in making connections between artisans as I do in actually making art. Not everyone does, and that does not make them bad people. I enjoy fighting, but I will never put in the time and make the sacrifices required to become a Knight. This stings a little, but I know that it is because of my own choices and I accept it.

Obviously, these are my own opinions, and I realize that not every individual follows the same path or shares the same views. I hope, however, that this may provide some useful perspective.

This was originally posted in 2009, shortly after my elevation, in response to a discussion about “peer like qualitites”.

I knew I wanted to be a Laurel early on in my SCA career. The barony I started playing in had a large concentration of Laurels, and I wanted to be like them. I didn’t know exactly why, except that they did lots of cool stuff, but I knew that was the path I wanted to be on. Did I know where it led at that point? Not really.

So I became an apprentice, and took the green belt that was the outward sign of my ambition. Over the years I pursued the various arts that appealed to me, and in time began to teach them to others. For a long time I was in that contradictory state where, if asked, I would say that the Laurel wasn’t my goal, while the sash around my waist said the opposite. It wasn’t until later that I came to understand why that wasn’t entirely contradictory, and I found my own understanding of what it meant to me.

What is the Laurel?

After many years, I got to the place that many have reported finding themselves, namely the land of What If I Never Become A Laurel? It’s not a fun place, but it’s a good place to do some thinking. I started trying to figure out what exactly I was missing out on, besides jewelry and meetings. I didn’t need the Laurel to do my art, and I didn’t even need it to teach. I couldn’t take official apprentices without it, but I could have students and encourage others to pursue their own arts. What, I wondered, was the Laurel really good for?

As far as I can tell, the Laurel is a license. What is a license? It’s a document that tells someone who does not know you personally that some accredited group has deemed you fit to perform some task. A driver’s license says that you have passed the driving test and are at least minimally competent to safely operate a vehicle. A medical or law license says that you have completed the necessary training to work in those professions. The Laurel is like a teaching license, in that it declares that you are able to competently perform and teach the arts and sciences that we do in the SCA.

Is a license an award? Sort of. A doctor receives his diploma in a ceremony and hangs it on the wall of his office so you can see his credentials, just as the Laurel receives and displays his regalia. What it is not is the end of the journey. Imagine a med student graduating, getting his medical license, and then retiring! Receiving the license is the end of one journey, and the beginning of a career.

What is the purpose of a license?

You may have noticed my earlier emphasis on the fact that a license certifies your credentials to those who don’t know you. It’s possible to be an artisan and a teacher in the SCA without being a Laurel, and even to do so better than some who are. The only thing the Laurel will do is to give an idea of your skills to someone who has no knowledge of you, either personally or by reputation. If you tell someone “I’m a cooking Laurel”, that gives them a certain idea of your ability to cook in a period style, redact recipes, etc. It is an imprecise tool, and one that can be misused, like any tool. When used wisely and honestly, though, it helps those who are seeking knowledge and advice find it more easily.

What is the value of a license?

The value of a license is directly related to the reputation of the institution that grants it. A medical license from a small university does not necessarily carry the same weight as one granted by an Ivy League institution. The value of the Laurel is equal to the sum of all the experiences that a particular person has had with Laurels (or perhaps Laurels from your kingdom or local group). If someone has had bad experiences with Laurels, they will place less weight on it as an accurate measure of skill and personality, and vice versa for those who have had mostly good experiences.

This is why the Laurel is a polling order. It is in their best interests to maintain a high level of quality in their membership, and therefore a high level of overall respect for the Laurel as an Order (or a brand, if you will). If they let in a bunch of jerks, then people will start to think all Laurels are jerks, and therefore that they personally are jerks.

So is it just a status symbol?

While it is a status symbol, like most status symbols it does have a useful purpose. A big SUV is a symbol of wealth, but if it is regularly used to transport large numbers of people then it is not an empty symbol. Likewise, a Laurel who is using their status to actively teach and promote the arts more widely than they might have been able to without it is making good use of it.