Clog-makers hoping to preserve craft for posterity
AARLE-RIXTEL (Netherlands): Just decades ago, there were thousands. Now, only about 30 Dutch clog-makers remain, fighting to save a dying craft with the wooden shoes more often found today as fridge-magnets rather than footwear.
Expertly wielding a long metal spoon-like tool, Nicole van Aarle rhythmically hewed away at a piece of willow, the shavings falling at her feet, the walls of her workshop here in the southern Dutch town adorned with clogs of all shapes and sizes.
“I work when I can. In the evenings, or after dropping the kids off at school, at weekends. But I can’t make a living just from making clogs,” said this former soldier, who is proud of being a fifth-generation clog-maker.
At 40, she is one of the country’s youngest clog-makers and represents the future of a trade in which most craftsmen are already reaching retirement age.
It’s a “very worrying situation”, said Pieter van Rooij, from the Dutch Heritage Centre.
“Preserving this craft is long overdue, to ensure it it is handed down to future generations. Otherwise, we will lose the know-how of how to make this Dutch icon.”
Even though clogs have been made for centuries across many countries, they have become as synonymous with this lowlands country of 17 million people.
Up until World War 2, clogs were the footwear of choice for most Dutch people. Made from a single piece of wood, they were “warm, dry and not very expensive”, said Jack van der Voort, president of the Dutch Clog Monument association.
But the tradition “is almost dead”, he said, calculating that only about 40 clog-makers remain in Europe, of which 30 live in The Netherlands.
Since the end of the war, the Dutch have increasingly donned rubber or leather footwear and clogs have become a sign of a rural past.
Van der Voort and Van Aarle organised markets, festivals and even a national clog-making championship in their passion to keep their handicraft alive.
“Young people going to music festivals are wearing clogs. They protect them from the mud,are easy to take off and no-one steps on your toes,” said Van Aarle.
For her and her father, Harrie, clogs are an essential part of Dutch identity.
“From my first steps until I was about 15 years ago, I wore clogs. I grew up watching my father making clogs and I wanted to learn when I was about 18 or 19.”
Now, the 66-year-old visits his daughter’s workshop daily, as she tries to give a modern facelift to a craft seen by most Dutch as old-fashioned.
Van Aarle hopes her two sons may one day take over the family business.
“That would make me very proud. But it’s a difficult job and I would never force them.” AFP