By Cedric Breisacher

This article is a point of view from a designer looking at the unique situation we are all facing around the world. It brings several historical references from artistic movement who tried to change the relationship between user and manufacturer and a personal economic approach enhanced by ideas imagining a greener path.

A Contemporary Man-Made Museum

In workshops, time is taken to make. As quality is checked step by step, handmade objects are long-lasting. Seeking life inside the home, craftsmanship is taking a new breath. On both sides it is growing. It is not the same market, but they are sailing on the same soulful sea and bringing value to work that has been forsaken.

Handwork is precious and can only be afforded with time. It is a labour that requires passion and patience. Making a living from it is complicated but possible. It requires sacrifices and many hours of work to achieve it. It is humanistic to wish to spread qualitative objects for everyone, but the balance is tricky.

The balance between quality, beauty, and affordability is a goal that several utopian movements, such as the Arts & Crafts and Bauhaus movements, tried to achieve. Since the first Industrial Revolution, makers have wished to provide beautiful, high-quality objects to as many people as possible. The problem has always been affordability and, even today, those expectations often conflict with the commercial environment.

Contemporary industrial design should have been the answer. With large-scale production, prices are lower and were supposed to offer better products at an affordable price. Once again, the frantic race for profit won. Meanwhile, craft workshops are opening more and more. People are asking for a return to handcrafted objects because they are unique, well made, and long-lasting. Walter Gropius wished to “provide quality and beautiful objects to everyone.” It is possible through intelligent craftsmanship and a reasonable use of technology.

Collectible design requires authenticity and high-quality craftsmanship. Objects are sold to international collectors or commissioned for interior projects. Made in a local neighbourhood, the pieces travel worldwide. I am wondering whether all the work done by the designer, trying to create an environmentally responsible product, is spoiled by air transport.

One idea could be to delocalize workshop sites. Spaces could open on different continents, and designers could travel to those countries for several months, producing in the country where the commissions originate. Rather than travelling pieces, it is knowledge that travels with its entire body. It would create a melting pot of international creators from around the world concentrated in one place. These workshops would become creative hubs for a generation facing environmental issues. They would encourage unexpected collaborations and create a unique creative environment managed by galleries. Galleries could unite to reduce the CO₂ impact of transporting pieces. It feels wrong when a piece made within a 50 km radius is sent to the USA. Moreover, the uniqueness of a work made on site, with local materials and manufacturers, is a true reflection of temporality. The object made here, at this moment, for this commission becomes an archaeological testimony of human presence. This local foreign production could be called: Nomad Localism.

Today, shared spaces already exist in many territories and under different systems. Responding to the lack of small workshops in city centres, artists are grouping together to rent larger spaces. It allows them to work in good conditions alongside other creative people and creates an emulative synergy between them.

Looking beyond this hypothesis, different internationally shared atelier solutions can be considered. Based on existing shared spaces, a map could be created to facilitate communication and management. This network would operate on a residency model. International artists would be welcomed for two or three months and would work in spaces dedicated to international exchanges. The commissioning gallery would be responsible for the rent and the transport of the artwork. The additional rental costs could be reflected in the final artwork price because of reduced transport afterwards. It would not significantly change the price for the customer but would have a real impact on the planet.

A network of international galleries could also unite to share creative production spaces. These initiatives would be added to the map as art-design work centres. In each country, the gallery would manage its own production space. The space should be around 400 m² or more, depending on the machines and the number of artists working there. A production space should provide dedicated areas for different materials: wood, clay, steel, and, where appropriate, glass and melting. It should also include living areas for eating, sleeping, and quiet work. The space does not necessarily have to be a household; it could be a countryside house or an existing gallery with sufficient space and divided rooms.

Once the spaces are located around the world, a second stage of research begins.

To work, an artist needs materials and industrial companies capable of producing technical parts or complete pieces. According to the local surroundings, manufacturers and raw material suppliers should be identified within a maximum radius of 100 km before selecting the shared space. At this micro scale, the information is added to the world map.

The map becomes a tool for finding local production solutions. By exploring local craftsmanship, artists can discover new processes and bring new dimensions to their work.

Affording and sharing machines is a central point. After consulting artists, a survey is carried out. Looking at the second-hand market or professional outlets, machines are purchased by the hosting space. As fixed assets, they become part of the normal accounting process, and the space can charge rent to its partners. This rent can be added as a percentage to each product made within the hosting space without affecting the artist’s pricing. This investment is intended for immovable machinery, while hand tools are brought by the artists themselves. Each artist has their own preferred tools. A travelling artist will always arrive with their own toolbox. A workbench is dedicated to each artist within the space. The rooms are open, encouraging communication between artists. Advice and mutual sharing become part of a self-managed community. Respect comes naturally between professional artists and designers. Like any shared atelier, the art-design work centre lives through the people working inside it. Artists stay for a trimester before being replaced by others once their work is completed. A rotation is then organised through the platform. Online, each contributor can organise their production schedule. With people constantly arriving and leaving, the space becomes a living entity where events can be imagined, and even a gallery shop and restaurant can be incorporated.

The shared atelier then becomes a living entity within the city, providing alternative cultural events and energising the local neighbourhood. Through its activity, it could grow into a contemporary man-made living museum, offering knowledge and bringing human production back into our lives rather than simply providing beautiful objects. We can all imagine different possibilities, but today the Earth asks us to make a choice. Perhaps owning a private artist’s atelier is no longer the direction to pursue. By reducing the transport of artworks through the air, we can develop a new production system with a beneficial impact on our way of living.

Conclusion

As a conclusion, many ideas emerged from this time of confinement.

Nowadays, craftsmanship is a response to the growing appeal for handmade objects. Workshops have been growing over the past few years, and people are starting to leave large companies to open their own businesses. It is true that working by hand reconnects both maker and user with nature. Buying less but choosing quality could become a form of contemporary activism. Adopting a minimalist way of living is essential if we want to continue living on our planet. It is an act of environmental modernity that everyone should be able to embrace in different ways.

The solutions found through social media and open-source design platforms have shown the evolution of the designer’s role. It is evolving into a more systemic approach that helps society in a deeper way. A designer knows how to evolve within society, and through digital platforms it has become clear that knowledge is not necessarily linked to a finished object but rather to a process that can be shared. The design process is still evolving. Originally created to think about objects in a smarter way, it is now focused on rethinking the connections within our society. Constantly evolving, its philosophy can be applied to many different fields. As we face the challenges of our civilisation, design will become more than ever a courageous human contribution to local economies.

Last but not least, the field of contemporary collectible design has never been stronger. It is a remarkable place where artists are listened to by collectors for what they express through their work.

We all know the period we are living through. Yet it feels unfortunate that artworks continue to travel around the world by air. Instead of exporting so many products worldwide, a system of Nomad Localism could be implemented across different regions. In this model, designers would produce locally while moving from one base to another, creating a regular way of producing and sharing creativity and know-how.

These are only a few ideas that could be implemented in these troubled times.

Troubled, but inspiring as well.

A time of crisis, a time of inspiration.

Cedric Breisacher
Designer / Sculptor
Wood Furniture Maker for Galerie Philia