Provoked by the homogeny that the expanding industrial world contributed to the nineteenth century, the Arts and Crafts movement longed for a pre-urban planet that made use of local materials and vernacular crafts. Oak, rush, thatched roofs, and the ticking of copper-beating in the nearby workshops of slow life in rural Cotswolds somewhere in England where a Shire horse pulls a wagon of fruit up the cobbled streets after a perfectly gnarled apple falls off and rolls to the old man whittling chair legs at the bottom of the road.
That’s not to say that the Arts and Craftsists were anti-machine, despite their vision of rural utopia. Commercial viability was - as ever - also part of their picture with the horse, and apple, and the older gentleman. If a small machine or two speeds up the delivery of workshop-crafted furniture then let’s see it as a collaboration - so long as the aesthetic output remains.
William Morris, one of the biggest advocates of the movement, was in favour of machine production, for example, if it meant the sensibilities of skilled crafts would align with his Socialist outlook.
E.G. Punnett certainly designed for commerciality. Manufacturers, William Birch Ltd in High Wycombe, produced designs for Punnett, which sold through retail outlets Liberty, in London - and to much success. So, did rural idealism rely on the capitalism of a fog-filled metropolis? Maybe. What’s also telling about Punnett is their hint at upcoming trends and selling points. Decorative emblems in exotic ebony inlay creeps towards a Nouveau palate and manages to keep his London clientele interested into the twentieth century. Most design still wasn’t fully published by manufacturers at this point so, I’m sure there is still more to be uncovered by him.
-Abel Sloane