The Crafts Movement at a Generational Crossroads
The Craft Movement at a Generational Crossroads
Why the Pipeline of Makers Is Thinning—and What That Means for the Future of Handmade
By Wally Smith
Founder, Smith Galleries
There is a growing recognition within our field that the landscape of handmade work is shifting—perhaps more fundamentally than at any time in the past fifty years.
This moment is marked, in part, by the disappearance or diminishment of long-standing pillars of the wholesale marketplace. American Handmade (formerly IndieMe, and before that BMAC) and the American Craft Council’s wholesale shows are no longer operating in the way they once did. NYNOW, once a central gathering point for buyers and makers, now exists at a fraction of its pre-COVID scale. What was once a dense and interconnected ecosystem has thinned considerably.
At the same time, new efforts are emerging to rebuild and reimagine what a wholesale marketplace for handmade might look like. These initiatives are not only welcome—they are necessary. The opportunity for a fresh, well-led approach is real.
And yet, to understand what is possible going forward, we must first take a clear-eyed look at what has been happening beneath the surface.
An Image That Raises a Deeper Question
Several years ago, I came across a photograph that has stayed with me: a long line of people waiting to enter the Craft Fair of the Southern Highland Guild in Asheville.
What struck me was not the length of the line, but the people in it.
More than 80% had gray hair.
That image has become a kind of lens through which I now view the craft movement. It suggests that what we are experiencing may not simply be a market fluctuation or a post-pandemic disruption, but something more structural—and more generational.
The Quiet Erosion of the Wholesale Ecosystem
The decline of wholesale shows accelerated during COVID, but it did not begin there. Over time, makers and galleries have adapted—often creatively—finding new ways to connect through digital platforms and direct relationships. Services like Faire and IndieMe have helped fill part of the gap.
But they have not replaced what was lost.
The wholesale shows were more than transactional spaces. They provided energy, discovery, mentorship, and a sense of shared purpose. They were where relationships were formed and sustained over decades. As a buyer, I—and many others—feel that absence profoundly.
And importantly, not everyone made the transition. Some makers stepped away. Some galleries closed. The ecosystem did not simply evolve; it contracted.
The Origins of a Mid-Century Renaissance
To understand the current moment, it is helpful to look more closely at the forces that helped bring the contemporary craft movement into prominence in the first place.
What emerged in the 1960s did not arise spontaneously. It was, in many ways, the result of two powerful and converging historical currents set in motion in the decades following World War II.
The first was the transformative impact of the GI Bill.
Beginning in 1946, millions of returning servicemen were given access to higher education—many of whom would not otherwise have attended college. A significant number of these individuals found their way into the arts. What began as an opportunity for education became, for some, a lifelong path. By the late 1950s and early 1960s, this first wave of GI Bill–educated artists had begun to establish themselves as teachers, department heads, and institutional leaders.
Their influence was profound.
They helped build and expand art departments across the country, bringing with them a seriousness of purpose and a respect for making that reshaped academic environments. In the field of craft, figures such as Warren MacKenzie—who served during World War II and later became a central force in American ceramics—embodied this transition from veteran to maker, and from maker to teacher. More broadly, artists like Robert Rauschenberg, who also served in the war, contributed to a cultural climate in which creative practice was increasingly understood as both a discipline and a profession.
By the time the next generation arrived on college campuses in the mid-1960s, they encountered something quite new: a vibrant, expanding, and increasingly respected world of artistic possibility.
I experienced this firsthand. Entering college in 1965, I stepped into what could only be described as a renaissance in the arts.
The second major influence came from across the Atlantic.
In the years leading up to and during World War II, a remarkable group of European artists, architects, and designers fled political upheaval and persecution, bringing with them deeply influential ideas about art, design, and education. Many were associated with the Bauhaus or related modernist movements that emphasized the integration of art, craft, and everyday life.
Among them were Josef Albers and Anni Albers, Walter Gropius, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, László Moholy-Nagy, and Hans Hofmann. Their impact on American art education was immediate and lasting, helping to reshape curricula and elevate the role of craft within a broader artistic framework.
For a brief but important period, several of these artists gathered at Black Mountain College in North Carolina, an experimental institution that became a crucible for new ways of thinking about art and learning. It was there, and in related environments, that the boundaries between fine art, craft, and design were actively reimagined.
Marguerite Wildenhain, a Bauhaus-trained ceramic artist who emigrated to the United States after the closure of the Bauhaus in 1933, was among the most influential figures in bringing European craft traditions and rigor into the American context. Her work and teaching helped elevate the status of ceramics and contributed to a broader redefinition of what craft could be.
A Convergence That Shaped a Movement
These two forces—the democratizing effect of the GI Bill and the intellectual and aesthetic influence of European émigré artists—converged in the postwar decades to create the conditions for an extraordinary cultural expansion.
By the mid-1960s, the infrastructure was in place:
- Universities with robust and growing art departments
- Teachers who were both practitioners and innovators
- A philosophy that valued the handmade as both expressive and essential
- And a generation of students ready to engage
It was within this environment that the modern American craft movement found its footing—and eventually, its audience.
A Data Point That Changes the Conversation
In October 2022, as part of CRAFT (Craft Retailers and Artists for Tomorrow), we conducted a nationwide survey to better understand how artists and galleries were faring in the wake of COVID.
At the last minute, we added a question about age.
The results were striking:
- 69% of responding artists were age 60 or older
- 70% of gallery owners were also 60 or older
- In the 20–39 age range, there were zero respondents
In retrospect, the survey did not go far enough—we should have included age brackets into the 70s and 80s. But even as it stands, the data confirms something many of us have sensed for years.
The center of gravity of the craft movement is aging.
The Generational Engine Behind Craft
For more than five decades, the primary customers—and, in many cases, the makers—have been members of the Baby Boomer generation.
They were there at the beginning of the contemporary craft movement. They built it, supported it, collected it, and sustained it. They were the ones who showed up—first as young buyers with limited means, and later as committed collectors with the resources to acquire significant work.
Today, the oldest Boomers are nearing 80.
And crucially, they are not being replaced at the same rate.
Again and again, conversations with their children reveal a consistent theme: a lack of interest in handmade work, and often no desire to inherit the collections their parents have built. Whether this reflects aesthetic preferences, economic pressures, or broader cultural shifts is a question worth exploring—but the pattern itself is hard to ignore.
An Often Overlooked Divide Within a Generation
Even within the Boomer generation, there are important distinctions.
Those born between 1946 and 1954—the older Boomers—have been the primary engine of the craft movement. They also hold a disproportionate share of wealth, controlling roughly half of the nation’s assets. By contrast, younger Boomers (born 1955–1964) hold a dramatically smaller share.
The reasons for this disparity are complex—shaped by timing, economic conditions, and historical circumstance—but the implications are clear. The individuals who have had both the inclination and the means to sustain the craft ecosystem are concentrated in a cohort that is now aging out of the market.
A Tidal Shift, Not a Temporary Disruption
Taken together, these observations point to a larger conclusion:
We may be witnessing a generational transition that represents a fundamental shift in the craft movement—not a temporary disruption, but a structural change.
If the foundation that supported handmade work for the past half-century is receding, then the question is not simply how to revive what existed before.
The question is: what comes next?
Reimagining the Future of Handmade
This is why current efforts to create new wholesale platforms are so important. They are not just attempts to rebuild a marketplace; they are opportunities to rethink the entire ecosystem in light of changing demographics and cultural realities.
Any successful effort going forward will need to grapple with questions such as:
- Who is the next generation of makers and collectors?
- How do they discover and value handmade work?
- What role do physical gatherings play in an increasingly digital world?
- How can we rebuild not just transactions, but community?
The answers may not resemble the past.
But they will determine whether the craft movement evolves—or contracts further in the years ahead.
A Moment of Both Risk and Possibility
There is, in this moment, both urgency and opportunity.
The structures we relied on are no longer as stable as they once were. But that also means there is space—perhaps more space than we have had in decades—to shape something new.
The future of handmade will not be built by accident. It will be shaped by the questions we are willing to ask now, and the experiments we are willing to undertake.
And in that sense, this is not simply a period of loss.
It is a moment of decision.