Being in a production region, you naturally sense the mood of the workshops around you.
A workshop we had worked with for a long time quietly closed down the other day. The sound of machines running simply stopped, and we only noticed a few days later, when the news reached us.
No successor. That seems to be the most common reason these days. The skills of the craftsmen are still there, but there is no one to pass them on to—or rather, no one willing to receive them.
Whether young people see this work as something worth pursuing depends, in the end, on how much we can show them that it is enjoyable, interesting, and something to be proud of. If we walk around with our heads down, no one will come.
A production region is not something a single workshop can sustain on its own.
Weavers, dyers, finishers, sewers, button and rivet makers, those who pack and ship. Many hands come together to make a single pair of jeans. When one of them disappears, all the others become a little more difficult.
A quiet workshop next door means more than just one workshop being gone.
Still, we cannot only grieve.
Those of us who remain must carefully carry forward the techniques we still have, in the places we still have, while making sure someone, somewhere, can see the work being done. Hoping that, little by little, this will lead to the next step.
We hope that tomorrow, too, will be a morning when the sound of workshops can still be heard.