Markku Kosonen

Markku Kosonen died in September 2010, but I have only just found out.

This explains why I never got an answer to an email I sent to him at around the same time and why the Christmas greetings he used to send dried up. But, it never occurred to me that he might have died, just maybe, he had grown weary of communicating with someone whom he rarely shared the same physical space with. He was only 65.

Last night, idly wondering what he was doing now, I looked at his website and was shocked to see a date of death appended to his date of birth. Why had I not heard that he had died through the basket making world? He was, after all, a major pioneer in what is now commonly termed 'contemporary basket making'.

It is difficult to explain what his work meant to me when I first discovered it in the early 1980's. But I have always felt that it was very significant for my own development as a maker. In Britain, at that time, basket making could be summed up as buff willow dog baskets and cane edged melamine trays decorated with photos of the Queen, flowers, or winsome puppies. It was absolutely the nadir of basket making in Britain. Few farmers or fishermen were making baskets for their own use. The only people making baskets in any quantity were the last few commercial workshops struggling to compete with cheap foreign imports by making functional, but old fashioned and unexciting willow products. For me at that time it was very difficult to see how basket making could ever be as exciting as pottery or textiles. So, when I saw a very small picture of Markkus' white willow spiral basket in a Scandinavian design magazine it was a shocking experience. Here was the essence of a willow basket made form without reference to anything that had gone before. There was no weaving in this basket, no stakes, no strands, no bases or borders, yet it could still contain fruit. It was shocking, but so exciting and beautiful and it gave me the courage to try things differently with the basket making skills I had recently acquired. I loved him for having made this basket.

In 1998 Markku came to London because his work was on show in Valo- Reflecting Finnish Culture at the Barbican. Perhaps the most memorable piece in that exhibition, was one that has latterly been much imitated by other basket makers but which was radical then. It pursued a theme he had been working on since the 1980's using freshly cut willows with their catkins. Resembling a 'catherine wheel' functionality was now forgotten – this basket contained only air and occupied space - it was pure sculpture yet it still referenced willow baskets that had more earnest ambitions.

We met at the exhibition and the following day he came to my home and studio in Tower Hamlets. His spoken English was not good and my Finnish non-existent. The journey into east London had been a 'heart of darkness' experience for him, but we communicated through basket making and we continued to communicate sporadically through letters and emails over the ensuing years.

Markku wasn't only a basket maker, he was also a woodsman, philosopher, furniture maker, designer and artist, a man who loved trees and made some very beautiful objects. I am so sorry he has slipped away.

Straws in the Wind

Coiled Shetland oat straw basket made by Jimmy Work

Oats were the staple grain in the Shetland Islands prior to the 20^th Century and as in all rural communities at that time their use was completely sustainable, nothing was wasted. The threshed grain used for porridge, flour and animal feed was ground by small water mills set in the burns. The remaining straws were then used for things such as  roofing, stuffing mattresses, wrapping the feet in cold weather, mats for threshing, animal bedding and costumes for festivals. And, as in so many other rural communities all over the world they were also used for making baskets.

Image taken from an old postcard showing large coiled straw basket 

These islands are thought to have been inhabited for at least 5000 years but there is little evidence to suggest that there was ever a strong tradition of weaving with woody plants. There used to be trees in Shetland but they disappeared a long time ago, so for centuries there were few indigenous materials for basket making, little willow or hazel, certainly no oaks, ashes or chestnuts. Consequently the baskets of these islands had to be made with the native materials that could be gleaned or grown, such as oats, dockens, bent, rushes and heather.There was no riving, skeining or plaiting of anything tree or bark like, just the softer more textile tradition of twining, and for sturdier items, coiling. No axes or woodworkers 'donkeys' were involved just hands and pocket knives and bone or driftwood needles.

The Shetland Islands have a long tradition of spinning, knitting and weaving the fine wool that the indigenous sheep provide. This was the job of the women; basket making was the domain of the men and was an activity for the winter when the weather and short days forced them indoors.

The oats that grew here in the 19^th and 20^th Century here were different. They were fine and  stayed green and softer for longer making them ideal for basket making unlike the nitrogen-fuelled cereals  of today,  bruisers by comparison, short, muscular, and brittle. Now there are few people who grow these oats and those that do provide specialist needs such as value added local oatcakes, the roofing of a few listed buildings and the last semi-professional basket-maker Jimmy Work who only uses Shetland oats.

Jimmy Work in his 'real' indoor  work place 

Jimmy and selection of his baskets in  a 'staged' work place made for  a 1998 Calendar .
Photograph by Bill Jackson  for The Shetland Times.

Jimmy started making baskets in 1958 and he hasn't stopped. He says he taught himself and today at 88 he still makes the fine simple elegant coiled baskets that have become his trade mark. These are not traditional agricultural baskets like the kishie or fishing baskets such as the budie, these are domestic baskets for laundry and knitting, to hold peats by the fire. These are 1960's post herring trade, oil boom baskets used to decorate the home with in a much less hard and more leisurely life.

Jimmy has made hundreds of them, he doesn't know how many, and they have been sent to all parts of the world - he is a one man industry. His hobby, for that is what it is, has created a tradition and people come from all over to film him, talk to him and buy his baskets. Jimmy sells everything he makes and selling them is very important to him, he has little time for people that visit and do not buy! Most of his working life he spent painting and decorating for a building contractor, with his basket making almost a second job. He worked at it for an hour in the morning prior to the day job and several hours in the evening on his return home after a long day with the paint brush.

Jimmy says he can always recognise his baskets because he makes them without adding extra lines of stitching on the sides. There is the same number of stitches at the edge of the base as at the top edge regardless of any outward flow of the form. They are beautifully crafted, sturdy, functional and elegant baskets. He has never had any desire to alter his technique or his materials and it is probably because he has always made them the same way that they are so good.

Base of the basket

I asked Jimmy if he had ever taught anyone else to make them. I had heard whispers on the wind that he had refused to teach a woman who had offered to pay him for tuition. Apparently he told her that a woman would never have the strength to do it. I didn’t ask him if it was true, nor did I dare tell him I make baskets but I am very glad to hear that he is now passing on his precious knowledge to a couple of people – both male!  

Going Dutch

In a bid to be environmentally friendly I went to Noordwolde in Friesland by train. It took all day from Poitiers and for much of the journey time after Tours it travelled through a landscape blighted by the railways’ presence. Crossing Paris underground on a very warm day didn't add to my experience. The Gare du Nord is my least favourite Paris station surrounded, as it is, by dense traffic, expensive bars and restaurants and an annoying, though nevertheless quite interesting, assortment of audacious con merchants.

Looking at the acres of new railway infrastructure construction as we hurtled through Northern France, Belgium and southern Netherlands I began to wonder why we are being persuaded that it is more environmentally friendly to cover the land with new railway lines when looking up, all I could see was empty blue sky from horizon to horizon marked by the occasional vapour trail from a solitary aircraft!

There is a scene in the wonderful animation by Sylvain Chaumet,  Triplettes de Belleville, where the development around ‘Grandmas’ house has left the building that was once in the country jammed between a railway line, pylons, motorways and buildings with commuter trains now running right outside the upper floor windows. You can see a bit of it here . This vignette kept coming to mind as we screamed past bedrooms and gardens, places we usually like to think of as personal, private and tranquil havens.

It was the gardens that really got to me. Everywhere along these railway lines people had created little patches of verdant paradise with  affectionately tended grass, topiary, flowers and exotic trees, as though they were trying to compensate for the hideous sight and sound  of the railway line that they have to share their lives with.

Once an aeroplane is in the sky it doesn't usually bother too many people on the ground and I do believe they are not too far from developing ways to fly that do not vapourize ozone or require lakefuls of fossil fuels. Most airports shut at night but goods trains and many passenger trains allow no respite for the many poor souls who have to sleep near the lines. I am really not sure about more and faster trains.....

Things improved once I got beyond Rotterdam but, the Netherlands is undergoing a major construction boom. This is not just on their railways, cranes and cement mixers were everywhere. It was only after Zwolle that pastoral scenes became the norm and fortunately Noordwolde turned out to be a very small and quiet town in some lovely countryside. 

On my first evening stroll at twilight I saw a hare, only metres away. I had never seen a live hare before, I thought it was a dog with extra large ears!

The motive for my journey was a two day workshop to coincide with Urban Baskets which has been on show at the Nationaal Vlechtmuseum since July. The workshop was fully booked with 21 highly motivated and hard working students, including two men! I am always delighted to get men in my workshops and I like to have a lot of students mainly because it keeps me busy. More importantly though, I believe the students can learn as much from each other as from me, as everyone inevitably does something very different simply because they come with  different materials and skills.  Men often make bigger things than women which, for me, is another good reason to encourage them. 

On the Saturday morning the museum was closed to the public and I was given the opportunity to look at the library and the collections on display and in store.The museum is a former school of basket making modelled on the one in Lichtenfels in Germany. The displays include the history of the school but also the history of Noordwolde and the basket and rattan furniture industry that once dominated the town. It’s an interesting tale of poverty, benevolence, colonialism and design that you can read more about  on the museum website (link above) though the google translation leaves much to be desired.

Whilst I am personally fascinated by these social histories I am even more concerned with trying to make sure that these skills are not lost for future generations, so it was a real pleasure for me to meet Esme Hoffman and to see her work. 

Esme  in her workshop, where she also offers classes

She is one of relatively few young people in Europe who have been taught how to do very fine skeined willow work by elderly master craftsmen in Lichtenfels spending three years of her four year course focussing just on skeined work. She is also possibly the only one who has decided now to make it her speciality.

Esmes  work

There is little chance for anyone to learn this craft to the same degree now at Lichtenfels as the skeined work module of the course has been reduced to just 6 weeks, which for anyone who has ever done any will know that it is barely enough time to learn how to make skeins let alone a basket! Esme is now seeking to take this skill in new directions and will be exhibiting alongside contemporary Dutch designers in a major exhibition next year in Holland. I can’t wait to see what she does.

Labyrinth

In a park in the little village of Nanteuil-en-Vallee is to be found this living willow labyrinth, it is one of the nicest I have seen, well maintained, sitting happily in the landscape and visually pleasing even on a grey winters day.


Although there was no sign to say who had created it, I guessed it was probably done by Joel Rouillé as he has become an expert at these constructions and runs a business based in Villaine Les Rochers undertaking a wide variety of commissions for public spaces.  I subsequently checked Joels website and found it there. http://www.joel-rouille-osier.com/ Joel  acknowledges that it was his neighbour  David Drew, the British basket maker, who  introduced this type of  diagonal woven living willow fence to France in 1994 when he planted one around the potager outside his troglodyte home in Villaines. This was in fact the second version as the first had been planted around his previous vegetable garden in Somerset.


The following year David and his wife Judy created a sensation at the International Garden Festival at Chaumont with a much larger version of this fence. Constructed of zig-zag willow walls using his now perfected technique and white gravel, it had a strong visual presence that altered with the seasons. The completed installation offered a unique experience to anyone entering between the walls and it became one of the most popular exhibits that year.  As a consequence of the publicity they received  the living willow fence is now a regular feature in  parks and gardens worldwide.

Image from a postcard of David and Judy Drews installation at Chaumont Garden Festival 1995.
Original photo:Yann Arthus Bertrand

The way that David makes them is as immaculate as topiary and he has developed his own techniques for their planting and pruning. This makes them distinct and aesthetically superb but there is a historical precedent for both diagonally woven fences and living woven fences. In medieval paintings, particularly of the Italian and Dutch Schools, there are often fences that look similar in construction but, despite some serious research, I have never tracked one down where the fence is obviously alive rather than constructed with dead sticks.  It is not difficult to imagine, however, that if the fence was planted in the ground from freshly cut wood there is every possibility that they were living fences.

More recently a German landscape designer Arthur Weichula (1865-1941) developed techniques for creating snow barrriers  for railway lines, bridges and buildings out of woven and grafted living wood (mainly poplar).  According to Konstantin Kirsch in his book Naturbauten aus lebenden Gehölzen (1996 ISBN 3-922201-17-2) Weichula not only ran a successful business creating living trellis fences, but he also published a book describing his techniques and successfully applied for patents for his tools and techniques.

Image taken from 'Grown Home an exploration of processes for the manufacture and culture of willow products' 2003 Lois Walpole

Medieval gardeners created their fences to keep animals in or out or to act as windbreaks for cultivated gardens. Arthur Weichula saw a practical and commercial  purpose for these fences but I feel sure they would all have also enjoyed the evolution of the diagonal living wood fence into something  that can also have a place in landscape design equal to that of topiary. Both plant and sculpture, Joel's Labyrinth is the successful result of a symbiotic relationship between man and nature where neither can exist without the other.