Craftland by James Fox: The craftspeople weaving our ancient traditions back to life

What would our ancestors think? Once upon a time we were a proud nation of flashers, flirters, boners and willy men*. Now look at us.

Today, these terms mean nothing to anyone, other than to those of us looking for a particularly creative insult. But, not too long ago, these were the job titles of some of the many respectable craftsmen and women scattered throughout the British Isles. A flasher, for example, was someone who made glass discs.

Until comparatively recently, every aspect of life from the handmade cradle to the carefully sculpted gravestone was reliant on craft. Industrialisation and mass production, however, did for the craft world what the meteorite did for the dinosaurs.

Thankfully, there are people keeping the ancient traditions alive, and James Fox travels from the Scilly Isles to the Scottish Highlands to meet them.

They are a formidable bunch. Fox meets Sarah Ready, who while undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer is still taking to the seas as Britain’s only female commercial fisherwoman. She is also among the few who has stuck to traditionally crafted fishing tools.

Ready makes her own withy pots – baskets made of stretched willow that trap and catch fish on the seabed. Constructing them is frustrating, agonising and – since the advent of cheaper, more durable plastic pots and nets – pointless. However, Sarah is certainly not a nostalgic hobbyist – she’s a realist who thinks the future of fishing will rely on the revival of this craft.

An estimated 25million plastic pots and traps – and enough net to cover the whole of Scotland – are lost at sea. Willow pots and traps are biodegradable and cause little to no damage. If we wish to preserve marine ecosystems, returning to the humble withy pot is essential. As Sarah puts it, ‘Sometimes the old ways are the right ways… sometimes the past is actually the future.’

James Fox’s craft land is a far cry from the crafts table at a country fair. These are not bored amateurs gluing shells on to mugs, but dedicated and masterful labourers.

Most of them cringe at the word craft. When Fox asks if Felicity Irons, a rush weaver, finds her job relaxing, she snaps back: ‘Of course it isn’t. It’s bloody hard work, just like any other job.’ A Devon wheelwright tells him, ‘I’m not a craftsman, this isn’t a hobby. This here is a trade… I’m trying to make a living.’

A watchmaker’s workshop is ‘like a monastery’, Felicity’s storehouse is a ‘cathedral to rush’ and even a pair of scissors is described by one crafter as ‘no less than a cathedral or a symphony’. Indeed, there does seem to be something almost religious about these people’s dedication to their craft.

Most of the jobs are arduous, time-consuming and without any promise of profit. However, the people he meets share an uncommon passion and real love for their trade.

Fox effortlessly persuades the reader about the superiority of all things crafted. From willow pots to watches, these handmade items are all treasures in their own right, stamped with the crafter’s own individuality and a bit of their soul.

* Flirter: remover of loose bristles from brushes; boner: inserter of whale bones into corsets; willy man: operator of a willying machine, which thinned, separated and cleaned wool.