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Queen Elizabeth Scholarship Trust

By Sue Peart. Images by Julian Calder

11 Months Ago

Not so long ago, it seemed as if the onward march of mass-production, demand for cheaper prices and an ever-more disposable society might eclipse many of the traditional arts and crafts that had kept this country at the forefront of industry for so many years in the past.

Happily, the last few years have seen a huge resurgence in interest in craft. The pandemic, along with popular TV shows such as The Repair Shop and The Great Pottery Throw Down, have awakened people’s interest in hand-made items, objects that might be treasured and passed down through the generations.

“We saw a big change during the pandemic,” says Katherine Boyle, Head of Communications for QEST (the Queen Elizabeth Scholarship Trust). “People found they had time to explore crafts, to have a go at making things at home, to experience — maybe for the first time — the satisfaction of creating something by hand. There seems to be a far greater appreciation now of hand-made, beautiful things.” It also gave us all the opportunity to stand back and question the sustainability of our insatiable appetite for ‘stuff.

QEST was founded by the Royal Warrant Holders Association in 1990 to commemorate Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother’s 90th birthday. In the years since, QEST has awarded £5.2 million in funding (for scholarships, bursaries and apprenticeships) to 700 individuals across the UK, working in 130 crafts.

“In certain artisan areas, there are very few master craftspeople still working now,” says Katherine. “Some crafts are at risk of dying out completely. Our aim is to keep these traditional crafts alive, and we do this by offering funding support to the amazing people who may spend many years learning these rare, traditional skills”

“Through our awards, we want to support the very best; we’re looking for excellence. For each round of awards [two or three times per year], we receive 200 — 300 applications, which go before our board of assessors (made up of Trustees, craftspeople, senior people from the world of art and so on). A rigorous interview process follows, until eventually 25 or so exceptional craftspeople are selected to receive funding.

“We’re proud that QEST is about more than just funding. Once you’ve become a QEST scholar or apprentice, you’ll be supported with events and opportunities, and you become part of the QEST family — our large network of makers. Seventy-two per cent of our scholars and apprentices have gone on to teach, passing on their expertise to future generations.”

On the following pages, we speak to some of QEST’s scholars, all of whom produce highly-skilled, rare and beautiful objects for future generations to enjoy.

QEST was founded by the Royal Warrant Holders Association in 1990 to commemorate Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother’s 90th birthday. In the years since, QEST has awarded £5.2 million in funding (for scholarships, bursaries and apprenticeships) to 700 individuals across the UK, working in 130 crafts.

“In certain artisan areas, there are very few master craftspeople still working now,” says Katherine. “Some crafts are at risk of dying out completely. Our aim is to keep these traditional crafts alive, and we do this by offering funding support to the amazing people who may spend many years learning these rare, traditional skills”

“Through our awards, we want to support the very best; we’re looking for excellence. For each round of awards [two or three times per year], we receive 200 — 300 applications, which go before our board of assessors (made up of Trustees, craftspeople, senior people from the world of art and so on). A rigorous interview process follows, until eventually 25 or so exceptional craftspeople are selected to receive funding.

“We’re proud that QEST is about more than just funding. Once you’ve become a QEST scholar or apprentice, you’ll be supported with events and opportunities, and you become part of the QEST family — our large network of makers. Seventy-two per cent of our scholars and apprentices have gone on to teach, passing on their expertise to future generations.”

On the following pages, we speak to some of QEST’s scholars, all of whom produce highly-skilled, rare and beautiful objects for future generations to enjoy.

Cameron Short was toiling as a labourer on a building site when QEST offered him a lifeline into a new career.

Suffering from burn-out after many high pressure years in advertising, he knew he needed a complete change of lifestyle, so he resigned from his job and — with wife Janet and their baby daughter — moved out of London to the depths of the country. The casual job on the building site offered Cameron a means of income while he recovered his health, and began to think seriously about what he’d like to do going forward.

A couple of years earlier, he’d picked up a glossy lifestyle magazine and been captivated by the unique hand-blocked wallpaper designs by Marthe Armitage. “I was bowled over by the quality, ethos and spirit of her work. I had an overwhelming sense that this was something I would really like to do — and could possibly even be good at.”

A scholarship from QEST allowed Cameron to pursue a mentorship with Marthe Armitage, offering him the window of opportunity he needed to hone his skills in the time-consuming and laborious — but ultimately rewarding — process of block-making and printing.

Twelve years on, Cameron and Janet run a thriving business from their light-filled studio in what used to be the village store in a small West Dorset village. Bonfield Block-Printers (named after the original owner of the shop) produces hand-blocked cushions and lampshades, along with one-off pieces of furniture upholstered in hand-dyed antique French fabrics printed with Cameron’s unique designs, and heirloom items of clothing designed by Janet, featuring Cameron’s prints.

The couple are tireless in their determination to keep every aspect of their work sustainable, and true to history. “We work with wonderful upholsterers who use traditional techniques to make furniture, and we source our linen, for example, from a mill in Ireland.”

Cameron grew up in the Hampshire countryside, and through all the years in London, his love of nature never left him. It is reflected in his designs now. “I’m inspired every day by the beauty around me here,” he says. “The countryside is rugged and hilly, and the sea is just a stone’s throw away.” The animals and scenery all around him allow him to continue to develop his designs, and challenge himself to create new and innovative pieces.

“I will forever be grateful to QEST for giving me the chance to try my hand at something that I knew in my heart I really wanted to do,” says Cameron. “It made me well again; the work I do is good for the soul and the mind, and it brings me great joy.”

When Ben Short was 8 years old, he was taken on a nature ramble with his class. In a local wood, they came upon a group of charcoal burners. Although life was later to take him down a number of different paths — the chance of a career as a professional rugby player, an art degree, a high-powered job as creative director in an ad agency in London — that formative early encounter always stayed with Ben.

“It was elemental,” he says. “It was a cold afternoon and the light was fading. There they were, gathered round a traditional steel-ring kiln, baking wood. I was immediately drawn to it.”

A mental health crisis in his early thirties was the catalyst that led to a complete overhaul of his life. “On the surface, I had everything. A great job in advertising, a flat in London, a lively social life. But inside I was struggling. I was a wreck.

“The only way to get well again — which, at the time, I never thought I would — was for life to be quieter, more sedate. I wanted my work to be more physical, and to be working outdoors in the fresh air.”

For a while, he did voluntary work in the gardens of a National Trust property in Cambridgeshire, but realised he was drawn more to the wild, and traditional woodland skills. A scholarship from QEST allowed him to dedicate a year focusing on acquiring a new set of skills, working alongside an experienced forester learning the traditional skills of tree felling, coppice restoration, woodland management, hedge laying, and of course, charcoal burning.

Now living on the Dorset/Devon border, Ben manages the woodlands on a nearby 2000-acre estate. He is one of the few remaining charcoal burners in England, selling charcoal locally at farm shops through his company, Old Way Dorsetshire Charcoal.

With his partner, Holly, and their three year-old son, Ben has found the life he yearned for. “I still have to keep an eye on my mental state, but this life has brought me back to health.” He works with nature and the seasons, hedge laying and felling in the spring, charcoal burning from April to September, all the while managing the woodland and coppicing on the estate.

Last year, he published a book: Burn: Fire, Wood and Healing (Hodder & Stoughton, published in paperback by Sceptre in February 2023), chronicling his journey back to mental health and his life in charcoal burning. Since then, there’s been a growing interest in charcoal burning, which Ben welcomes.

“You can buy imported charcoal, but it is often made from wood grown unsustainably and it emits harmful emissions. Traditionally produced charcoal using wood grown sustainably, properly baked to produce pure carbon, emits no harmful chemicals. Charcoal businesses are necessarily small scale, and sold locally.”

These days, working in his woodyard, with his son helping him, Ben feels truly restored. “I was able to convert all the bad things in my life into something that others find inspiring. I’m very grateful for that.”

Annemarie O’Sullivan was already the mother of young children when she signed up to learn the art of traditional basket-weaving at London’s City Lit college for mature students. “It took me five years to complete the course, going to college one day per week,” she says. In 2011, she emerged with an extraordinary skill that has sustained her and shaped her life ever since.

We speak on a dark afternoon early in January. Annemarie has been outdoors all day, harvesting the willow she grows on her half-acre plot in the Sussex countryside. She sounds tired, but happy. “This is my favourite time of year,” she tells me. “Harvesting in the depths of winter is hard, physical work, but it’s lovely to be outside with a group of people — friends, family and volunteers — working collaboratively in the fields.”

“I love the connection of willow-weaving with the land, and with the rhythm of the seasons. Harvest gives me a real sense of the full cycle of the process. It’s the time when we receive once more the goods from the ground.”

The rest of the year, Annemarie works in a concentrated and focused “bubble” in her workshop alongside husband Tom, fashioning all manner of domestic objects — vessels, trays, log baskets, and simple but bold lighting — from her preferred material, willow.

“The City Lit course gave me a broad outlook across all kinds of basketweaving, but I always come back to willow,” she says. “Materials are so important to us; we want to bring these beautiful natural materials into the home. It’s what people want now; they find it enriching.”

In 2016, a bursary from QEST allowed her to work alongside renowned weavers in Ireland, Italy, Wales and Poland, filling in gaps in her knowledge. “There were specific aspects of the craft I wanted to learn. Being given the opportunity to work with different weavers was amazing for me. What I learnt from them is present in my work every day.”

As well as domestic objects, Annemarie fulfils private commissions and makes larger pieces for galleries and exhibitions all over the world. Teaching is a big part of what she does and she’s currently training an apprentice, but these days her work is so much in demand, her popular one-week workshops have had to take a back seat.

What is it that she loves about willow basket-making? “I love the slowness and the rhythm of the process,” she says. “Every piece I make is rooted in an ancient craft that people have been doing for thousands of years, but my approach is contemporary.”

David Snoo Wilson was running the metalwork foundry at City & Guilds School in east London, when a random idea led him down a new path. “I was living with a group of friends in an abandoned pub,” he recalls. “We were told we had to leave, and decided to throw a farewell party. I thought it would be nice to cast a bell to ring for final last orders,
to celebrate the space.”

Casting the bell gave him so much pleasure, he decided to specialise in bells going forward. Things moved rapidly, with David working on commissions for festivals and events, and establishing his own foundry near Bristol: Ore & Ingot. In 2012, he went to Burning Man Festival in the Nevada Desert, where he erected a mobile foundry and cast six bells.

Performance and education form an important part of David’s practice. “These days, I’m asked to make bells for weddings and other personal celebrations,” he says. “I’ll set up my foundry and cast a bell in front of the guests, so they can participate in the wonder of the process.” He invites the wedding couple to add items of their own, to make the bell more personal. “I recently made a bell where the bridal couple included some items of family silverware that they no longer use,” he said.

“I’m not about mass-production; what I appreciate is the narrative of each individual bell, what it is gives that piece its special meaning.”

Working alone, his methods mirror the pre-industrial trade of bell founding, where the bell-maker would visit villages with his foundry and cast a bell in situ, including a few local materials such as clay, metal and silver, that would all go into the crucible.

As well as making bells as personal treasures, one of David’s bells stands at the top of a mountain in Scotland to ring when you reach the summit, and he also cast a bronze bell as a gift from the Royal Warrant Holders Association to the then Prince of Wales, now King Charles, on the occasion of his 70th birthday.

Another big part of his practice is decorative metal mask-making, with his pieces featuring in galleries and exhibitions all over the world.

In 2016, David was awarded a prestigious scholarship from QEST, which allowed him to experiment with different bell shapes, metals and metal alloys. “It introduced me to a broader community of makers, in particular sculptor Marcus Vergette, who worked with me on the design for King Charles’ bell, and with whom I collaborate on a regular basis now.”

What is it about metal casting that ignites David’s passion? “I find the pouring of the molten metal into the mould the most exciting — and trepidatious — stage of the process. A lot of energy and emotion has gone into the preparation, yet you’re still waiting for the piece to be born.”

Watching Scott Benefield at work in his Antrim studio is to be present when magic happens. Using traditional off-hand glassblowing techniques first developed in Venice during the Renaissance, Scott draws a lump of molten glass from the furnace, and gently blows, turns, twists and stretches it, persuading it into a recognisable shape — a jug, a plate, a vase — continuing to perfect the piece as it cools and hardens, examining it from every angle until it meets his exacting gaze.

Working in temperatures of higher than 700 degrees Celsius (for the glass to remain elastic and pliable), the process is dangerous and delicate in equal measure. Once having started a piece, it’s a continuous process to the end, requiring total concentration, attention to time, gravity and motion, and a constant awareness of how long the glass has been out of the furnace.

This sense of continuous movement is evident in the precise and swirling patterns he creates, using the Italian cane technique. “The Venetians found a way to introduce pattern into the body of the glass, rather than engraving or painting it onto the exterior of the finished work,” explains Scott, and it is this highly technical challenge that he specialises in.

It’s incredible to think that Scott only came to glassmaking by accident. Born in Japan, his family moved to the USA when he was five. Later, when he was studying for a degree in languages, he got a part-time job with a stained-glass supplier. “I got side-tracked by that, and blagged my way onto an art graduate programme.” Six years later (including a period in Sweden on a Fulbright scholarship), his studies culminated in a Master of Fine Art (MFA) degree from Ohio State University.

Since then he’s had glass studios and galleries in several American states, including New Orleans and Seattle, and collected fellowships and residencies from many of the most prestigious art colleges in the world. In 2011, he was awarded Lifetime Membership of the Glass Art Society.

While fulfilling a residency in Caithness, he met Andrea — also a glass artist; they married and moved to a farmhouse property in Northern Ireland, where they converted the outbuildings into workshops. “I need space to work,” says Scott, and it is in this tranquil, rural setting that he creates his intricate and exquisite pieces.

His scholarship from QEST allowed him to study the chemistry of coloured glass — to learn how to formulate colour and melt it — despite having no background in chemistry. “It’s an aspect of glassmaking that isn’t taught on a degree course. It’s a bit like baking. You never entirely understand the alchemy of what’s happening, but it works nonetheless.”

Traditional glassmaking is technically challenging, energy-intensive work, requiring significant capital investment to ‘tool up’ to get started. For these reasons, it remains a minority craft in the UK.

“What I appreciate about handling glass are the slight variations that naturally occur in any hand-made process. Each piece is a distinctive work, even though they’re designed to be as similar as possible.”

Mary Wing To’s journey into whip-making has been a long one. Born in Manchester, “I’d always wanted to work in the fashion industry, and studied for a BA in fashion at Huddersfield University. After that, I came to the London College of Fashion to study for an MA.”

For her MA degree show, Mary wanted to combine her passion for leatherwork with her fascination for all things equine, but needed specialist mentoring. “I tracked down Lena Hanson at Capel Manor College in Enfield, and asked if she would help me. She agreed that I could study with her one day per week.” Lena taught Mary how to cut and hand-stitch leather, and other specialist leather techniques, which she included — along with silver-smithing — in her ambitious and innovative final degree show.

The show was awarded Distinction, and a welter of publicity and offers of employment followed. It could all have provided a perfect springboard for a career in fashion, but it wasn’t to be.

“I wanted to challenge myself further,” laughs Mary. “Not many people do an MA and then go back to college, but I did — I wanted to learn saddlery and elevate my craft even more.”

Two more years at Capel College followed, and then an apprenticeship at the Royal Mews, working with the Queen’s master saddler, Frances Rush. “Frances agreed to give me a three-year training in harness-making.”

Mary is now a master saddler and harness-maker. And it didn’t stop there. She wanted to learn the particular art of bespoke whip-making, but it is a dying art and there were very few people practising this niche craft. “Whip-makers tend to be secretive,” she laughs.

‘There’s no book to teach you how to do it; you can only learn from an established whip-maker, or teach yourself by taking whips apart.” A QEST scholarship enabled her to study with Dennis Walmsley, a retired selftaught master whip-maker, fashioning bespoke whips almost as a hobby, and who agreed to share his knowledge with Mary.

“What I particularly love about whip-making is that it combines every skill I’ve learned across all the disciplines I covered during my various degrees and apprenticeships,” says Mary. “A whip may look like a simple thing, but it isn’t. There are so many stages to making a whip — each one requiring specialist skill.”

Mary’s whips are used, of course, in dressage, eventing, carriage-driving, and show-jumping, but they are also objects to be treasured: family heirlooms. “I work to commission with individual riders; whips are incredibly light — it’s important to get the weight exactly right, and I design a bespoke silver collar for each whip.”

In addition to her whip-making business, Mary has — for the past 10 years — run a specialist leather costume jewellery restoration atelier for Chanel, teaching leather repair and refurbishment, and how to maintain the exquisite leather pieces produced by the luxury fashion brand.

Established now at the very top of her profession, what does she see for the future? “I’m constantly re-inventing, “ she laughs, “using my skills to innovate. I really enjoy keeping the art of whip-making alive, and educating wherever I can about this amazing craft.”

When he’s in his workshop — a rented cow-shed in farmland on the outskirts of Bristol — sculptor and stonemason Richard Mossman is in “my happy place, my sanctuary. It’s an extension of me, really. When things are going well, it’s the holy grail: doing work that satisfies me, and is both rewarding and challenging.”

From a young age, growing up outside Liverpool, Richard knew the path he wanted to take. A creative child, he took an art degree, and became a traditional stonemason, thinking the work would satisfy his creative desires. “Working with stone is magical, life-changing. The tools you’re using are the same they used in medieval times, so it’s very seductive. Eventually, though, I found myself in a commercial workshop producing stone components for bland buildings. Window sills and door frames didn’t satisfy me; in my spare time, I started carving intricate foliage in marble.”

By now married (to his “super-supportive” wife, Clare) and with a small child, Richard decided to study ornamental carving at City and Guilds college. For two years, he commuted to London, sleeping in his van four nights a week. “I was broke, a fledgling artist. My family never had money, but my mother lent me just enough to get me started on the course. Then, when the college heard how I was getting by, they offered me a bursary which — along with a Queen Elizabeth scholarship from QEST — allowed me to complete the course.”

Now highly-skilled, highly-trained and highly experienced, Richard still finds work is patchy. “It’s feast or famine. The thing that keeps me going is the challenge; I refuse to give up. It’s a brutal career path if — like me — you can’t afford just to sit and twiddle your thumbs in your workshop waiting for the next commission.

“I have no financial safety net, but I’ve always dug my heels in and been single-minded and focused. I refused to believe that this work was only for rich people whose families could afford to bankroll them.”

For his final show at City and Guilds, Richard wanted to carve a portrait in marble of the then Prince of Wales. “I wrote a letter to Buckingham Palace, as a child would do, and thought no more about it.” Four months later, an equerry rang and invited him to Highgrove for a two-hour sitting with Prince Charles. “We had a great afternoon drinking tea and laughing, and I got all the measurements I needed for the piece.” The carving now resides in a private collection in Wiltshire.

“I’ve also done work for the Saudi royal family. It amuses me that here I am living in a beat-up
terrace house in Bristol, and I’ve worked for the British and the Saudi royal families. When people hear that, they think I’ve made it, but it doesn’t work like that. You can get a wonderful commission, and then for a couple of years after that, nothing.”

Arts Council funding enabled Richard to develop a creative practice, and he is now working on an abstractive body of sculpture to bring his work to a wider audience, and be shown in galleries around the world. He is also working on a personal project: a clay portrait of a native American Indian man — Dark Cloud — a well-known figure in Bristol. “He has the most amazing face; and then, when I heard his story, which is full of both hardship and resilience, I knew I wanted to immortalise him.” The plan is to cast the model in bronze, which Richard is hoping to bank-roll through crowd-funding.

“Mine is a crazy existence in many ways. But when I get to the end of my life, I’d like to be able to look back and know that I never gave up. When I decide to do something, I really do stick at it until I get to the end.”