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Back in the day...
I grew up on the edges of Sheffield city centre, spending as much time as I could escaping to the woods and Peak District to get muddy and pick things up.
Not that much has changed. The woods and moorland are still where I feel most connected and continue to inspire much of what I make and teach. I trained as a Design & Technology teacher, with woodwork as my main subject, but over the years practical subjects gradually disappeared from education. I moved through mainstream and special education and climbed the career ladder, but the higher I climbed, the less I liked the view from the top. In a bit of a ‘run away from it all’ moment, I left a flourishing teaching career and became a woodland ranger. I had become increasingly disconnected from what I really loved – teaching practical crafts – and had found myself in a world of targets, paperwork, and unrealistic goals, particularly for those already most disconnected from education. I wanted to get back to making things, teaching people and working with my hands. |
And now......
I’m often asked how I ‘ended up’ here.
More than thirty-five years after I first started teaching traditional crafts, that is still essentially what I do.
My work follows the seasons. There is coppicing and planting, harvesting and sorting willow, soaking, stripping and weaving, then courses, demonstrations, events, writing and all the other things that somehow get fitted in around them. I like working with the elements and the seasonality of traditional crafts rather than constantly battling against them. Although on a cold, wet January morning, when I can’t feel my fingers or toes despite the thermals, I might tell you differently.
Basketry and willow have become a huge part of my life. It is a challenging way to make a living. Growing and harvesting your own material is labour intensive, basketmaking is physical work and, unfortunately, I’m not getting any younger.
But it’s me, and I love it.
I’m not naturally a slow person – quite the opposite – but willow forces me to slow down. You can’t hurry the seasons, make a rod grow faster or persuade willow to be ready simply because you are. There is something about having to work at its pace rather than mine that I need.
And then there is the willow itself – the feel of it, the smell, particularly when it is being steamed, and the extraordinary textures and colours. It is difficult to explain without sounding slightly ridiculous, but the connection goes deep. Without it, I wouldn’t really be me.
Over the years my work has expanded well beyond simply making baskets. Teaching remains at the heart of what I do, whether I’m introducing someone to willow for the first time or working with experienced makers and tutors to develop their skills and understanding.
My relationship with Musgrove Willows has become an important part of that work. I teach courses for them and write much of their Help & Advice material, bringing together practical experience, traditional knowledge and the science behind why willow behaves as it does.
That work eventually grew into a book – a rather larger undertaking than I originally imagined – bringing together what I have learned through more than thirty-five years of teaching, making and working with willow alongside the knowledge and experience of the Musgrove family. Toolmaker Dave Budd also became part of the process, contributing his knowledge of traditional tools, making tools for the book and helping me develop a new one along the way, as well as taking photographs and being persuaded into appearing in rather more of them than he probably anticipated.
The book follows willow from growing and harvesting through sorting and preparation to tools and basketry, with the same approach I use when I teach: not simply telling you what to do, but helping you understand why you are doing it.
That connection with willow and the woodland runs through another side of my work too. I make fully assessed soaps and natural cosmetics, many using materials I grow, harvest or gather myself. Willow bark, charcoal, herbs, seeds and seasonal plants all find their way into what I make – because apparently even when I’m not making baskets, I still can’t leave the willow alone.
This became Hedgerow Hare, a range rooted in the same approach as the rest of my work: understanding where materials come from, preparing and using them with care, and making the most of what the seasons and the landscape provide.
Alongside all of this I continue to explore traditional and woodland crafts, develop practical products for makers, teach, write and occasionally disappear down a rabbit hole because I’ve decided I need to understand exactly why something works.
So perhaps I never really ‘ended up’ anywhere.
I just found my way back to teaching, making things and spending far too much time surrounded by willow.
I’m often asked how I ‘ended up’ here.
More than thirty-five years after I first started teaching traditional crafts, that is still essentially what I do.
My work follows the seasons. There is coppicing and planting, harvesting and sorting willow, soaking, stripping and weaving, then courses, demonstrations, events, writing and all the other things that somehow get fitted in around them. I like working with the elements and the seasonality of traditional crafts rather than constantly battling against them. Although on a cold, wet January morning, when I can’t feel my fingers or toes despite the thermals, I might tell you differently.
Basketry and willow have become a huge part of my life. It is a challenging way to make a living. Growing and harvesting your own material is labour intensive, basketmaking is physical work and, unfortunately, I’m not getting any younger.
But it’s me, and I love it.
I’m not naturally a slow person – quite the opposite – but willow forces me to slow down. You can’t hurry the seasons, make a rod grow faster or persuade willow to be ready simply because you are. There is something about having to work at its pace rather than mine that I need.
And then there is the willow itself – the feel of it, the smell, particularly when it is being steamed, and the extraordinary textures and colours. It is difficult to explain without sounding slightly ridiculous, but the connection goes deep. Without it, I wouldn’t really be me.
Over the years my work has expanded well beyond simply making baskets. Teaching remains at the heart of what I do, whether I’m introducing someone to willow for the first time or working with experienced makers and tutors to develop their skills and understanding.
My relationship with Musgrove Willows has become an important part of that work. I teach courses for them and write much of their Help & Advice material, bringing together practical experience, traditional knowledge and the science behind why willow behaves as it does.
That work eventually grew into a book – a rather larger undertaking than I originally imagined – bringing together what I have learned through more than thirty-five years of teaching, making and working with willow alongside the knowledge and experience of the Musgrove family. Toolmaker Dave Budd also became part of the process, contributing his knowledge of traditional tools, making tools for the book and helping me develop a new one along the way, as well as taking photographs and being persuaded into appearing in rather more of them than he probably anticipated.
The book follows willow from growing and harvesting through sorting and preparation to tools and basketry, with the same approach I use when I teach: not simply telling you what to do, but helping you understand why you are doing it.
That connection with willow and the woodland runs through another side of my work too. I make fully assessed soaps and natural cosmetics, many using materials I grow, harvest or gather myself. Willow bark, charcoal, herbs, seeds and seasonal plants all find their way into what I make – because apparently even when I’m not making baskets, I still can’t leave the willow alone.
This became Hedgerow Hare, a range rooted in the same approach as the rest of my work: understanding where materials come from, preparing and using them with care, and making the most of what the seasons and the landscape provide.
Alongside all of this I continue to explore traditional and woodland crafts, develop practical products for makers, teach, write and occasionally disappear down a rabbit hole because I’ve decided I need to understand exactly why something works.
So perhaps I never really ‘ended up’ anywhere.
I just found my way back to teaching, making things and spending far too much time surrounded by willow.
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