I've sat through dozens of artist talks over the years, and there's one question that makes me cringe every time: "How long did it take you to make this?"
I watch the artist's face as they scramble to calculate hours, knowing the person asking is trying to work out some crude equation of value. The artist stumbles through an answer: "Well, about five days." Meanwhile, I'm thinking what they should say instead: "This took me twenty years of experience, twenty weeks of conceptual experimentation, and five days of actual making. Shall I take you through my umpteen failed attempts that got me to this one rare success?"
This question reveals everything wrong with how most people approach collecting craft and design. They're obsessed with time when they should be focusing on understanding skill, knowledge of materials, mastery of the process, years of experimentation, and the development of a unique artistic identity. You're not paying for hours. You're paying for decades of investment in creativity and experience that most collectors completely miss.
But the "how long" question is just the surface of a much deeper problem. Most collectors have no framework for understanding how cultural value is actually created. They focus on individual objects and transactions when they should be reading the complex networks that determine which makers transition from craft producers to culturally significant artists.
"The craft sector contributes over £4.4 billion to the UK economy annually, yet many traditional craft skills are at critical risk of being lost forever." - Heritage Crafts Association, Red List of Endangered Crafts 2023
I've watched this play out repeatedly through my years on selection committees and judging panels. The makers who achieve lasting cultural significance aren't just those with exceptional technical skill and creative talents. They're the ones who navigate validation systems that most collectors don't even know exist.
This is the crucial disconnect. While makers are actively working within these complex institutional networks, most collectors are still asking about hours and calculating time-based value. They're operating in completely different frameworks. Makers thinking about cultural positioning, collectors thinking about labour costs.
But savvy collectors bridge this gap. They learn to see what the makers see, to understand the systems that actually determine cultural significance. They understand something most people never learn to see.
Collector-to-Collector
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Reading the Invisible Networks
Understanding collectible design requires recognising the complex validation systems that operate largely out of public view. Systems that savvy collectors learn to navigate instinctively. While collecting operates globally through international fairs in London, Paris, Brussels, Dubai, Hong Kong and New York City, the heritage we're creating remains distinctly national. British makers are shown globally, but they contribute to British culture and heritage, even when shown abroad.
Consider how careers develop through institutional recognition. A very simplistic view is just to look at the fairs. Emerging makers win awards at Collect (the Crafts Council's annual fair), progress to representation at leading contemporary craft galleries like Sarah Myerscough, FUMI, or Nilufar, then advance to international fairs like BRAFA (Brussels), and eventually reach venues like PAD (London/Paris) and TEFAF (Maastricht). Each step represents increasingly prestigious international art and design fairs requiring higher investment and vetting, so gallery participation signals growing market confidence. Understanding this progression helps identify makers at different career stages and their investment potential.
Through my years on selection committees and judging panels, I've tracked this progression repeatedly. I've seen newcomers receive recognition at Collect, then years later visited their studios through V&A patron programmes (exclusive access to artists' studios and museum acquisitions discussions for major donors), to later discover their work entering the museum's permanent collection. I've seen makers transition from Collect recognition to V&A Museum collection in as little as two years, while others take a decade for the same journey. This isn't coincidence. It's a validation network in action, where institutional recognition builds upon itself to create lasting cultural significance.
I've also watched established collectors discover makers through smaller gallery shows, then follow their career progression through increasingly prestigious venues. The pattern is remarkably consistent across different entry points, whether someone first encounters an artist at a student degree show or an established gallery.
Beyond traditional galleries and fairs, savvy collectors monitor other validation signals: which makers receive QEST (Queen Elizabeth Scholarship Trust) scholarships, who is shortlisted and wins the Loewe Craft Prize, who's featured in Homo Faber exhibitions, which artists participate in museum talks programmes, and who receives commissions (paid projects where institutions ask artists to create specific works, representing significant validation) from major institutions. These touchpoints when layered and leveraged start to add value to the conversation that artist is expressing and this collectively starts to create the cultural capital. The accumulated institutional recognition that elevates makers from craftspeople to artists worthy of museum collection transforms their craft into collectible design.
"The best collections are formed not by following market trends, but by understanding the cultural significance of what artists are trying to say." - Hans Ulrich Obrist, Artistic Director, Serpentine Galleries
The ability to read these networks and start to predict success (to distinguish between craft and collectible design or fine art) develops over time and exposure. It requires understanding not just technical skill, but cultural context, artistic innovation, and market positioning. This sophistication separates serious collectors from casual buyers. You watch and learn and train your eye, not to copy and replicate, but to identify makers who will potentially be in museums one day. However, there's nothing wrong with waiting until an artist receives recognition before you buy their work. I prefer identifying talent before institutional recognition. It's more challenging and rewarding than following established validation signals.
But once you develop this sophisticated eye, you realise something profound about your role as a collector.
Becoming Cultural Architects
When you collect thoughtfully from living makers, you transition from passive consumer to active participant in cultural creation.
The Arts & Crafts movement we celebrate today exists because discerning collectors recognised and supported makers like William Morris and his contemporaries. Those collectors didn't just acquire beautiful objects. They validated an entire design philosophy that now defines British aesthetic heritage. Today's savvy collectors have the same opportunity to shape what future generations will consider quintessentially British design.
There's a crucial difference between collecting established heritage pieces and supporting living makers. Heritage collecting represents cultural consumption. Think of buying a 1950s Robin Day chair versus commissioning a contemporary furniture maker to create a piece for your home. You're acquiring what previous generations already validated. Supporting living makers represents cultural creation. You're actively participating in determining what our era contributes to design history. Your collecting choices become votes for which aesthetic directions and making traditions survive and flourish.
When savvy collectors create demand for certain makers, galleries develop more work with those artists. Institutions watch these market signals closely. Curators and patrons are in constant dialogue, and collecting patterns influence museum acquisition decisions. Your individual choices contribute to a larger cultural conversation about what matters.
"I've always believed that collecting contemporary work means you become part of the creative process. You're not just acquiring objects, you're supporting a dialogue about what matters now." - Anita Zabludowicz, Contemporary Art Collector and Founder of Zabludowicz Collection
Future design historians will study what this generation of collectors valued, which makers received support, and how aesthetic preferences evolved. Your collection becomes part of this historical record, reflecting both your personal taste and the cultural values of our time. Savvy collectors understand this responsibility and make informed choices accordingly.
This extends beyond individual pieces to preserve workshops, traditional techniques, and regional making traditions. When you commission or collect from active craftspeople, you enable them to take creative risks, develop their practice, and pass skills to the next generation. This cultural stewardship ensures that Britain's making traditions continue evolving rather than becoming museum curiosities.
This doesn't mean abandoning personal taste for institutional validation. You'll live with these pieces daily, so aesthetic connection matters. But understanding networks helps you identify makers whose work may achieve lasting cultural significance. If navigating these systems feels overwhelming, working with an experienced advisor can help develop your eye while building a meaningful collection.
The solution to British craft's undervaluation isn't just individual education. It requires savvy collectors who understand their power to shape cultural outcomes and use that knowledge responsibly.
But understanding these systems is only half the equation. The other half is knowing which living makers are positioned within these validation networks, developing their practice, and creating the work that will define British craft for future generations. These are the artists actively shaping our cultural heritage right now.
In my next article, we'll explore exactly who these makers are and why they deserve your attention.
Why I'm Watching These 15 British & Irish Artists (And You Should Too)
There are makers whose studios I find myself checking in on, whose Instagram posts make me pause mid-scroll, whose career trajectories I follow with genuine curiosity.
Collector-to-Collector
Explore The Design Collector’s Toolkit — 25 AI prompts to help you see more clearly, ask better questions, and collect with confidence.
View the toolkit →
Serious about collecting? So are we.
We advise private clients and interior designers ready to place art and design with intent. No guesswork. No speculation. Just considered acquisitions, cultural discernment, and total discretion.
See what I'm seeing: Follow along on Instagram and Threads for real-time thoughts from galleries, fairs, and artists' studios.
This is my most dreaded question! "How long did it take you to make this?"
Some of my most horrible work took a LONG time to make horrible. Most of my best pieces take me only a few hours. But I always hesitate to share that, for fear the collector will judge the piece unworthy of my asking price because it "only took two hours" to make. The truth is, it can take me months to find the right circumstances to create my best work, and it's not a repeatable process. I have to find it anew every single time. Since we are a world based on transactional relationship, this is a constant challenge.
Great article - a question I’m asked as a maker at almost every public interaction I have . Always hoping to connect with viewers I love this idea of active participation on both sides