Introduction
‘Consider our landscape and the creations it supports, our vital codependency; a bond hidden until its absence is felt.’
We walked the length of Britain to document this island’s heritage crafts, whilst raising money. The idea was to be slow, to walk from Spring into early Autumn. Walking gave us time; something, as a younger generation, we feel we have less of. Time revealed the beauty of slow processes: the turning of Spring — hawthorn, red campion and cow parsley in bloom — the hedgerows humming with chiffchaff, chaffinch, blackbird and robin.
Spring was on the mind of the makers we visited. For many, their work is governed by the pace of the seasons; the wool in the fields, the withies in their orchards, the rushes by the rivers. Patience is required. Creation by hand works on a timeframe that supports the natural ecosystem. It shows the important and tangible connection we share with the living world, despite now being radical by today’s standards of production.
It is this connection that explains our appreciation for a straight line drawn by hand. The imperfection is human. Maybe we see a little bit of ourselves in handmade objects. In all the workshops we visited there was spirit carried over from maker to object, their work had life. The same way watching a bird make a nest, a rabbit a warren, or a tree and its carefully constructed roots.
Camping wild, Scotland
Chapter One
‘Craft is cultural infrastructure, not nostalgia. It is fundamental to the identity of place and belonging.’
The first week of walking revealed a lot. While many people come to Cornwall for its coasts, we discovered a deeper magic by heading inland. Through cairns, hill forts and burial grounds, interspersed with clay chimneys, the once vast network of Cornwall’s tin shafts were revealed. The layers of time seemed to open up before us.
The seaside village of Gorran Haven was our first port of call, here we met withy pot maker Tony Pinto. Traditionally, the withy pot was used for catching crab, an essential skill to any commercial fisherman before industrialisation. We boarded Tony’s vessel, Joy, named after his late wife, and between hauling pots, and detailing descriptions of landmarks, he charted his life. The son of an Italian prisoner of war, his father worked as a farmhand and fell in love with the farmer’s daughter. Tony was born in Gorran Haven, he watched pots being made on the harbour wall from a young age, and now at the age of 65, teaches the craft himself.
We witnessed first hand the withy pot’s ability to bring a community together. While of course less effective than commercial fishing pots, the craft does not survive out of function alone but something more profound. The pot is a tangible symbol of a former way of life, one anchored to place — a physical reminder of why home exists. Remove the withy pot, and the town blends into the surroundings; the connection to the land, to the sea, is gone. The withy pot gives the town identity, carrying it beyond ‘a destination with a view’. It instead remains distinctive, the withy pot a beating heart — sustaining the community and keeping its heritage alive.
Tony Pinto, Gorran Haven, Cornwall
Out on the water, Gorran Haven