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John Hall, 52, master thatcher from Sussex. Photographed at work rethatching a school building near Uckfield in Sussex.

People have this romantic notion of thatching, but it鈥檚 a trade like any other. I鈥檓 a craftsman, I suppose, but no more than a brickie or any other person in the building industry. It鈥檚 only because not many people do it that people think it鈥檚 a craft. Having said that, there are a lot of crap thatchers around 鈥� cowboy thatchers. You don鈥檛 have to have any training to call yourself a thatcher. I don鈥檛 know how Kathryn [Findlay, architect 鈥� see below] found me. Yellow Pages, I suppose. The Pool House wasn鈥檛 much different from any other job really. It was a very unusual shape with a big curved eaves. They left us to our own devices to work it out. Kathryn wanted a Japanese ridge and she sent me the details, but it was a bit beyond me; it didn鈥檛 look to me as if it would work. We did it the British way. I鈥檓 a bit of a traditionalist, but I don鈥檛 mind doing things for a laugh. I kept meaning to go back and take photos but I never got round to it. We鈥檙e like any other builders 鈥� we like big vast areas of thatch more than ones with awkward bits because we make more money. I鈥檝e been thatching for 18 years. Before that I was a jobbing builder. I did a one-year intensive course, working with a master thatcher. I could never go back to an office or work for someone else. The best thing is visiting a different place every month, right out in the middle of the country. If I could have the winters off I鈥檇 be even happier. I鈥檝e thatched abroad 鈥� Holland, America; I did a theme park in Taiwan. The best one was the Caribbean. They were building a thatched house on a rich bloke鈥檚 island. I work mostly with reed thatch 鈥� it lasts up to 50 years, whereas straw only lasts 20-25 years. The reed comes from everywhere but Britain. We鈥檙e using Austrian reed on this job, but we also use French and Turkish reed. We get it from reed dealers in the West Country. It鈥檚 like a lot of things in this country, the reed-cutting industry was just left to go 鈥� they didn鈥檛 care. Good Norfolk reed is a joy to work with, but we just can鈥檛 rely on it any more. Each thatcher has their own unique ridge pattern so you can always tell who鈥檚 done the job. You get a lot of satisfaction when you鈥檝e finished. You look at it and say, 鈥淚 put my mark on that one鈥�. Do I make a good living? I make enough, yeah. I do about nine rethatches a year, at about 拢15,000 each plus vat, and half a dozen repairs. We鈥檙e always getting enquiries from people who are disillusioned and want to become thatchers. If you鈥檙e fed up with what you鈥檙e doing, there鈥檚 worse jobs you could do. But they don鈥檛 know what it鈥檚 like. It鈥檚 quite physical, very hard work, a lot of labouring. My son shows no interest in thatching, but I don鈥檛 think the art will disappear. Most thatched buildings are listed. As long as there are thatched buildings, there鈥檒l be thatchers. Kathryn Findlay, Ushida Findlay Architects
He really is a stunning craftsman; his work was superb when we were building a Japanese-style thatched roof on the Pool House at Pulborough, near Arundel. Plus, he鈥檚 got a moustache that looks like thatch.

Koyodi Lipedi, 40, from Nigeria, concrete caster. Photographed at work on private domestic commission in Hampstead, London.

There鈥檚 definitely a buzz in being a craftsman. There鈥檚 a certain pride in feeling very much in control of what you鈥檙e making. People are relying on you to produce the object. We love what we do and we understand what we do. Concrete is probably the greatest invention of the modern age, the greatest gift of the Romans. It鈥檚 such a durable material compared with stone. It鈥檚 astonishing that we can produce something to challenge nature. It鈥檚 a fantastic product; it outperforms marble. And you can introduce an almost endless range of finishes. I love the play of touch and appearance. You can produce surfaces that look textured, but when you touch them are glass smooth. Concrete represents one of the greatest opportunities for form and appearance in modern buildings. Most other materials these days are machined and pressed into shape. Concrete is more earthy. You need something to offset the hard, clean surfaces. I rely on a team of highly skilled assistants. They normally have some kind of arts background; people who have design training and like working with their hands 鈥� they have to really like working with their hands. And they must have patience and a good eye. They must be able to respond to the imperfections of the material. But it鈥檚 difficult to find good people. Nowadays, people aren鈥檛 interested in the building crafts, which have been dying for years now. There鈥檚 been far more effort put into mass-producing things than the craft of putting together non-standard objects. There鈥檚 great pressure to make a living 鈥� that鈥檚 why people cut corners. A lot of builders do that and get into trouble. I met Block Architects two or three years ago. I did a concrete floor and worktop for them. I enjoy my relationships with architects. I studied architecture at the Architectural Association, so it鈥檚 easy to see where they鈥檙e coming from; I can understand the space; I can advise them of the finishes and colours to use. I enjoy moving from site to site, different spaces, different clients. When we鈥檙e on site, the builders tend to spend the first few days pooh-poohing us. But then they get more and more interested. By the second week they鈥檙e milling around us, asking loads of questions; and by the end of the job, they鈥檙e saying 鈥済ive us your card鈥�. We love that. We鈥檝e spent the past few years building the thing into a business, discovering new polishing methods, mastering techniques, which was really exciting. It鈥檚 important at the very start not to be tempted by the money. To build a business with the right production attitude, quality of product comes first. I鈥檓 completely happy. It鈥檚 like being at school again. Graham Williamson, Block Architects
We did a project with Koyodi a couple of years ago; he did an insitu bathroom floor and kitchen work surface. He spent ages getting the surface perfect. His level of finishing is spot-on; his attention to detail is great. He鈥檒l provide a lot of samples and he鈥檚 willing to try new things.

Clive Williams, 52, from London, all-round maker. Photographed at the workshop of his firm, Forum Makers, in Islington, north London.

It鈥檚 the challenge that I love 鈥� creating something from nothing. Some guy does a sketch and it鈥檚 the challenge of turning it into something tangible. Not many people understand the enjoyment of doing that. I鈥檓 a maker鈥揷raftsman really. I trained as a product designer but I don鈥檛 design any more. I enjoy making things 鈥� I get a real buzz out of it. We work in any material 鈥� wood, metal, plastic. We do welding, CNC programming, moulding 鈥� we kick ass. It鈥檚 accumulated knowledge built up over the years. If we don鈥檛 know how to do something, we just phone up and ask 鈥� we take pride in what we do but we鈥檙e not proud about that. We try to help architects and designers with their design ideas, bring them down to reality. They need people like us to create their schemes. We help them with the brainstorming process to solve the problem. These office chairs for example 鈥� I carved them straight from [furniture designer Ross] Lovegrove鈥檚 sketches. Then the manufacturer digitised what we made and mass-produced them directly from that. But we don鈥檛 get recognised for our work. The Kielder shelter [a diamond-shaped bird-watchers鈥� hide beside a Northumbria lake] is totally outrageous. I went to see Softroom Architects to view the first concept sketches, then we did our own construction drawings. We agreed we鈥檇 do it in a particular way and we just carried on from there. We made very little money on that 鈥� we broke even. The specification is really high. As a maker, I don鈥檛 believe you鈥檙e going to make a fortune. Some jobs you鈥檒l make money, some jobs you鈥檒l lose money, but as long as you consistently enjoy what you do, it鈥檚 OK. Computers have taken away a lot of the crafts, and a lot of our work. When I started out in 1984 I was modelling phones and suitcases, but consumer durables are all done by computer now. That鈥檚 why we鈥檝e had to diversify. We do a lot of airline work; full-size mock-ups of aircraft interiors. Our most recent thing was a full-size train for Siemens 鈥� a full, 23 m long mock-up. In the construction industry, we鈥檙e trying to get into cladding: building full-size, mock-up facades. That鈥檚 a real growth area these days. The home makeover programmes on the telly: I don鈥檛 know if they鈥檝e done us any good or not. There鈥檚 been a huge surge in DIY, which is damaging the professional people a lot 鈥� people won鈥檛 pay to have things done properly. There are fewer and fewer craftspeople on the ground and we鈥檙e frowned upon. Young people want to press buttons instead of make things. Oliver Salway, Softroom Architects
Clive鈥檚 great. He鈥檚 the kind of person you鈥檇 have in the engine room on the USS Enterprise; he鈥檇 give a sharp intake of breath and say it wasn鈥檛 possible and then do it. When he makes a promise, he鈥檒l deliver. He built the Kielder shelter for us 鈥� a small, unconventional structure fabricated in stainless steel. He has a very good level of finish and he鈥檚 used to ridiculous deadlines.

Michael McHugh, 52, from Tasmania, joiner. Photographed at Westside Design Studio, his workshop in Bath.

I suppose a craftsman is the best description of what I am, although that conjures up images of a person with a fine set of tools, working on their own. I鈥檝e got a bit of a maverick view of it: I don鈥檛 follow the rules, the rule that says you must use this tool or this joint. I like taking creative risks. The problem-solving is the thing I enjoy most 鈥� burrowing into it until you鈥檝e pulled it apart and understood it. It鈥檚 pleasurable, but a lot of it is pure graft. I never considered doing this for a living, but looking back, I was always interested in wood. When I was a teenager, I built a wooden speedboat with a friend. It was quite ambitious and it didn鈥檛 sink. When I was 15 or so, my father saw this log on the beach in Tasmania, where I鈥檓 from. It was blackwood 鈥� a bit like walnut. He dragged it home and it sat in the garage for a while. One weekend I decided it was going to become a sculpture and attacked it with a tomahawk. The encouragement I got from that catapulted me to art school. That sculpture is still in the foyer of the school. I鈥檓 lucky I didn鈥檛 have a conventional training. It allows me to think a bit more freely about the way materials go together. The sculpture stuff was a great asset when I worked on the bandstand with Niall [McLaughlin, see below]. The drawings weren鈥檛 really detailed; it left an awful lot of creative thinking to make it a reality. Niall and I get so much out of working together. We鈥檝e evolved ideas and affected each other鈥檚 methods. For the bandstand, there were a lot of impractical, expensive solutions proposed, but we went for something we knew we could make. Wood is such a variable and wonderful material. A living material with individual character and smell 鈥� just like people. Each tree is different. We had some American ash recently; we cut it up and found a bullet right in the middle of it. It conjures up an image of the tree鈥檚 history; it gives you a sense of age. We鈥檝e been quite lucky; we鈥檝e had some good working relationships with contractors. And some nightmares as well. The bigger they are, the worse they tend to be. They ruthlessly take as many shortcuts as they can. Anybody thinks they can build 鈥� and a good coat of paint will cover up a multitude of sins. There鈥檚 a lack of training. That鈥檚 always been a problem in this country. The apprenticeship system was abandoned, then came the YTS scheme. At school it鈥檚 become blurred with technology, which could be good but they never have enough budget or facilities. I鈥檝e been lucky over the years finding people who have skills. I never have a problem. We had a Frenchman once. He was fantastic 鈥� the training they have there 鈥� They have a guild system that helps people find work and give support. He鈥檇 had a more traditional, thorough training. He showed us techniques I was amazed by. But I think design and construction in this country is going through a fantastic renaissance. If the skills aren鈥檛 being taught in this country they鈥檒l be sucked in from abroad. The Romanians, Hungarians and Albanians have brought new skills. Niall McLaughlin, Niall McLaughlin Architects
We鈥檝e always used him. He鈥檚 extremely fastidious; he always has a solution. If you send him a set of drawings, it always comes back looking better than expected. Most recently he built the canopy for our bandstand at Bexhill-on-Sea. He was the hero of the piece 鈥� it was a highly complex shape and he worked out how to build it.

Dave Church, 53, from Canvey Island, Essex and Ken Rose, 61, from Molesford, Suffolk, restorers. Photographed on a job in Kilburn, London.

Ken Rose: We do stone restoration, stucco work, flint-knapping, lime rendering. They all crack your hands up. I suppose we are craftsmen in our own way. Put it this way, there aren鈥檛 many people who could do it so well. Dave Church: We did the flintwork at Southwark cathedral. We had to knap the bleeding stuff 鈥� all 15 tonnes of it. Ken: You have a blunt axe. You hold the flint in your hand and cut it to size. Dave: Knapping鈥檚 a bit dangerous; you get lots of cuts. There are bits flying all over the place. They鈥檙e so sharp you could shave with them. Ken: It鈥檚 all handed down. The blokes that taught us are all dead now. You started as improvers in those days; you learned on site. Not apprentices 鈥� apprentices went to college. We鈥檝e taught a few boys but a lot of them haven鈥檛 got the talent to do it. If they go to the loo 14 times a day, just forget them. Dave: You鈥檝e got to have the flair for it. You鈥檝e got to be good with your hands and have a good eye. Ken: I鈥檝e been doing it 45 years. Dave鈥檚 been doing it about 35 years. We used to do a lot of church work years ago, but it鈥檚 faded away. They get normal builders in now. It鈥檚 cheaper but they don鈥檛 get the work done properly. A lot of them are just bodgers. Dave: It鈥檚 all down to tender now 鈥� the cheapest price gets it. They call our work cosmetic and they think they can do without it. But some of our work is still on the wall after 35 years. Ken: Everything鈥檚 done by an accountant these days. It doesn鈥檛 matter what it looks like as long its as cheap as possible. You see houses going up with flints in but they鈥檙e not knapped in, they鈥檙e just bunged in. Dave: It鈥檚 all done in a rush now. You keep hearing people saying the industry鈥檚 going down the pan. Ken: It鈥檚 all gone crazy. Ptolemy Dean, associate, Richard Griffiths Architects
We were building the new library and refectory building at Southwark cathedral and they were recommended to us. They were brilliant because they responded not just to the materials, but to the spirit of the materials. What was exceptional about them is they were a pleasure to work with 鈥� always happy and jolly 鈥� and they were proud of what they did.