Craftsmanship is not the same as rustic
At the end of the 18th century, when work processes began to be mechanised, many were amazed by the new ways of doing things: faster, more uniform, more controlled. The machine took efficiency, and the hands took poetry.
At some point, a correlation was made that I would like to break today. We attribute a natural imperfection to handwork, which almost comes as a given, flaws that we might not accept from a machine. Many call it, not without a certain romantic aura, rustic.
High craftsmanship is not rustic; on the contrary, it is sophisticated, exquisite, and precise. It must be understood as the highest level of mastery in a technique. A handcrafted piece is not unique because of its imperfections but because of the level of skill and the quality of its materials.
Striving for excellence is fundamental to craftsmanship because it represents a commitment to the piece being created, to the person commissioning it, and above all, to the survival of the craft. It is precisely the mastery of the technique that will ensure its continuity against other mechanised or less skilled alternatives.
Eugen Herrigel explains in "Zen in the Art of Archery" that to master something, many years of hard practice are required, and there comes a moment when the integration is such that the craftsman and the craft merge; one cannot exist without the other. It transcends practice, reaching a spiritual level. When a weaver joins ÁBBATTE, she spends months learning the basics of the craft, practising, and it can take five or six years to, as they say, “get the hand right.” Time is important.
The pieces evolve. ÁBBATTE pieces are created to last more than a lifetime, to be passed on to another generation and to transform just as we do. Because when objects are created with mastery, when they are well made, they age with dignity. Like us, they gain nuanced colours, acquire new textures, roughness, and some scars. And all of this, far from detracting from their value, enhances their beauty even more. They become worthy of being part of our story. Like our wrinkles, they are privileged witnesses that we have lived life.
Elena Goded,
founder of ÁBBATTE
All pictures by Paco Marín