By constantly trying to produce faster, we have ended up treating speed as a quality in itself.
Making more, more cheaply and in greater quantities has become the dominant model. That model has real advantages: immediate availability, controlled prices and consistent products.
A craft workshop simply does not operate on the same ground.
I cannot produce like a factory, and that is not my objective.
Craft work follows another logic: taking the time needed to understand a project, choose the material, solve problems that emerge during manufacture and sometimes reconsider a decision when the result does not match the original intention.
That time is not a delay.
It is part of the making.
Producing less does not mean producing less well
A workshop does not function like a production line.
Not every piece emerges at a perfectly regular pace. Some projects are quick to make. Others require several trials, waiting periods between operations or changes along the way.
Wood itself sometimes imposes its own pace.
A species may react differently from what was expected. A component may move after machining. A finish may need more preparation to produce the desired result.
These situations are not exceptional.
They are part of the work.
Industry logically tries to eliminate as many variations as possible. The craftsperson works with them.
That does not mean accepting an approximate finish merely because an object is handmade.
Quite the opposite.
An irregularity can be interesting when it belongs to the material. A manufacturing error remains an error.
The real difficulty lies in knowing the difference.
Making time is not empty time
When looking at a finished object, it is difficult to imagine everything that happened beforehand.
The visible making represents only part of the work.
Before starting, a drawing, model, technical solution or dedicated jig may have to be produced.
The wood must then be prepared, machined, checked, sanded, sometimes machined again and finally finished.
Between these operations are many less visible tasks.
Cleaning the workshop.
Maintaining machines.
Sharpening or replacing a tool.
Testing on an offcut.
Reworking a drawing that does not function.
Modifying a CNC program.
Testing a finish before applying it to the final piece.
All of this is necessary to reach the final result.
The price of a handcrafted object therefore cannot be reduced to the price of the board from which it was made.
The real price of things
Comparing a handcrafted object with an industrial product can be difficult.
Visually, both may fulfil the same function.
A box remains a box.
A game remains a game.
A piece of furniture remains a piece of furniture.
But the manufacturing model is completely different.
Behind a workshop-made creation lie the material, of course, but also hours of design and manufacture, tools, machines, consumables, trials and the years required to learn how to use them correctly.
That does not mean that a high price automatically guarantees good work.
It would be too simple.
The real question is what the price is made of.
Which wood was used?
How was the object made?
Which finish was chosen?
Can it be repaired?
Was it designed to last or simply to be replaced?
Explaining these elements is not a way of artificially justifying a price.
It allows the customer to understand what they are actually buying.
Transparency rather than rhetoric
I am increasingly wary of grand claims surrounding craft.
Words such as “authentic”, “passionate”, “exceptional” and “unique” quickly lose their meaning when applied to everything.
I prefer to show the reality.
The wood used.
The stages of manufacture.
The tools.
The difficulties encountered.
The decisions that were made.
And sometimes the tests that failed.
That is also the purpose of this workshop journal.
To show that a project does not appear through one perfect operation.
A piece often evolves between the first drawing and the final result.
A method may be abandoned, a tool may not perform as expected or an idea may have to be simplified.
This reality interests me more than an overly polished image of a craftsperson who succeeds at everything on the first attempt.
A commission often begins with a conversation
The relationship with a craftsperson is also different from the relationship with a standardised product.
When a bespoke project is made, the work usually begins with a discussion.
The real need must be understood.
Sometimes the initial idea is already very precise.
In other cases, the project develops progressively.
A customer may arrive with a dimension, a function or simply a visual reference.
The role of the craftsperson is then to transform that information into something that can genuinely be made.
That sometimes means saying that an idea is technically poor or unnecessarily complicated.
Customer relations do not consist of saying yes to everything.
They also involve advising.
A bespoke box, game, piece of furniture or professional commission becomes the result of a dialogue between an intention and the real constraints of manufacture.
It is a slower relationship than a simple click on a purchase button.
But it also makes it possible to produce something that genuinely answers the need.
Modern craft is not a return to the past
Systematically opposing craft and technology makes little sense.
Digital tools have a real place in my workshop.
Depending on the project, I work with CNC machining, laser cutting, Fusion 360, MillMage or LightBurn.
These tools make it possible to design, prototype, produce jigs and carry out certain operations with a level of precision that would otherwise be difficult to achieve.
They do not make the work less handcrafted.
The question is not whether a machine touched the piece.
The question is who makes the decisions.
A CNC machine does not decide what the project should be.
It does not choose the wood.
It does not determine the form, finish or use by itself.
It performs part of work that was prepared beforehand.
Modern craft can therefore use contemporary tools without becoming industrial production.
The difference remains in the scale, the way the object is designed and the relationship with what is being made.
Making objects we are willing to keep
The industrial model often depends on renewal.
Buy, use, replace.
Craft work can offer a different relationship with objects.
I do not claim that a handcrafted creation will automatically be kept for several generations.
That would be an easy promise.
But it is possible to design differently.
Choose suitable materials.
Avoid certain manufacturing shortcuts.
Allow repair where possible.
Take the time to apply a finish correctly.
And above all make objects that carry enough meaning for people to want to keep them.
That idea lies behind the Honourable Pieces.
Some projects are not interesting only because of their function or price.
They also represent a particular piece of work, a stage in the workshop’s development, an experiment or a making story worth preserving.
Choosing what we want to support
Buying from a craftsperson will not, by itself, save the local economy or the planet.
It is important to remain honest.
But a purchase is still a choice.
Choosing an object made in an independent workshop supports a way of working, practical skills and a small-scale economy.
That choice does not have to be permanent.
Industry and craft can coexist.
I also own industrial products, mass-produced machines and tools made at scale.
The point is not to claim that everything should be handmade.
The issue is to preserve an alternative.
To retain workshops capable of making differently.
Places where a project can still be discussed, a dimension changed, a species selected, an object repaired, an experiment attempted or a single piece made without having to justify a run of ten thousand.
Why I continue to work this way
Working at a small scale is not always the easiest choice.
Making time is difficult to compress.
Mistakes are expensive.
Investment in machines and tools is significant.
And it can be difficult to explain why two objects that appear to fulfil the same function may have very different prices.
Despite this, I remain convinced that this model has a place.
Not as permanent opposition to industry.
As an alternative.
A workshop can still make a single piece because it deserves to exist.
Spend time on a detail that no one will notice immediately.
Try a new technique without knowing whether it will ever become profitable.
Explain honestly how a project was made.
And sometimes keep certain pieces apart, not because they are perfect, but because they represent something in the history of the workshop.
That is precisely the spirit of the Honourable Pieces: preserving a trace of the creations, experiments and projects that have marked my journey.