There is a word that once smelled of seasoned hands, of small workshops like treasure chests, of slow gestures unafraid of silence.
A word that guarded the memory of ancient trades: craftsmanship.
Today that word seems to have slipped away from the hands and landed on labels. I see it sliding onto products that have never known the warmth of a workbench, nor the patience of a craftsperson who pauses, observes, begins again. It has become an ornament, a linguistic trick, a thin veil trying to give soul to what is born without one.
And while this word multiplies on packaging, I see something strange happening: true artisans are disappearing, yet “artisanal” products are increasing. It is a paradox that makes one think. How can something grow when it no longer has roots. How can a world expand that is slowly emptying of its hands.
I often ask myself why. Is it just a trend, a passing wave riding the desire for authenticity in a time that produces copies of copies. Or are we abusing this word, squeezing it until it is hollow, until it loses its weight, its history, its truth.
And so, faced with this scenario, I believe each of us must learn to look beyond the surface. When we buy an object, we should ask ourselves what lies behind it. Where it truly comes from. Why we see it everywhere, identical to itself, even though it is labeled “artisanal.” We should wonder why certain prices border on the absurd, or why so many of these objects cannot be customized in any way, as if creativity were a disturbance, an obstacle to production.
Because a truly handcrafted object is not born in series, does not fear the request for a unique detail, does not stiffen in front of the desires of the person who chooses it. The artisan does not work with rigid schemes, but with elasticity, listening, intuition. Their production is not a straight line, but a path that adapts, bends, changes direction. This is what makes every piece unrepeatable.
And yet, despite everything, I continue to believe that this word can regain its strength. Because craftsmanship is not a memory of the past: it is a spark that endures. It lives in the hands of those who have not stopped creating, even as the world rushes on. It lives in the young people rediscovering the trades, in the workshops reopening, in the people who choose with awareness. It lives in those who seek uniqueness, not imitation.
Perhaps hope lies right here: in our gaze. In the way we choose. In the growing desire to return to what is true, well made, made with care. Every time we value quality over quantity, every time we recognize the worth of human work, every time we support an artisan, that word fills up again.
And so yes, I believe craftsmanship will shine once more. Because the hands that truly create do not disappear: they hide, they endure, they wait to be found again.
And perhaps, after this long wave of abuse of the word craftsmanship, a different moment will come. A moment when we will long for what cannot be replicated. When we will miss the beauty of watching hands at work, the experience woven into each gesture, the wisdom flowing through the fingers. A moment when we will want objects that speak of us, born to fit the shape of our thoughts, carrying within them the trace of the one who created them.
Because uniqueness never truly goes out of style: it hides, it thins out, but then it returns. And when it returns, it illuminates everything it touches.
And so yes, I believe craftsmanship will shine again. Because the hands that truly create do not disappear: they hide, they endure, they wait to be found.
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