On a half-rainy spring morning, we arrived at May's workshop, and the scent of freshly cut wood shavings welcomed us in.

Tools, works in progress, finished pieces… the space where May works magic with her hands, and that so beautifully reflects her universe, welcomed us just as she did — with her kindness and warmth.

That morning we talked about crafts, craftsmanship, time and hopeful dreams.

Can you tell us how you came into the world of carpentry?

I came to it out of frustration — or from having ignored a childhood dream. What happened to me was what happened to many of my generation: if you were smart enough to study, you went to university. Vocational training was looked down upon; it was left for those who didn't want to study. So I never had the chance to learn a trade, which is what I loved as a child: working with my hands, the artistic side.

At 30, I was frustrated with my job. It was a qualified, well-paid and respected job, but I needed to create. So I left, went to vocational school to study carpentry, and I fell in love. I said: "This is my thing. Why didn't I discover it when I was 16?" But better late than never.

And now you teach carpentry, right?

Yes, I work at a century-old institution, the Escola del Treball in Barcelona.

I teach intermediate and advanced vocational courses to young men and women who have the good fortune I didn't have: they've found what they love, and they're learning a trade that will be with them for life.

Alongside that, I have this workshop, which started more as a hobby space. A carefully tended place to be alone with my things, with my hands and the wood.

Are there many girls in your classes?

It depends. In intermediate vocational courses, out of a group of 30 students, there are three girls and 27 boys. And we can't get that number to rise, because there are so many prejudices: the noise, the danger, that there are lots of boys, that there are no female role models, that all the workshop teachers are men except me…

But little by little we're working on it, and more and more young women are becoming interested in carpentry through social media. In advanced courses, which have more of a furniture design profile, there's already parity. When the word "design" appears, women bring something to the table.

Do you experience it as a struggle?

In intermediate courses, yes. It's like a mini society inside the classroom: everything that happens out on the street happens in the workshop, and it's also a chance to talk about certain things and work through them. Sometimes families hold them back a lot, and so does the school environment before they enter vocational training.

Everyone has to do their small part. What I want is to make it visible that this is a reality, but that it's changing.

What is craftsmanship for you? Do you think it's valued enough?

For me, craftsmanship is an opportunity. Today it has been reduced to a luxury item: getting a handmade product raises the price significantly, and since everything is low cost, artisan pieces seem incredibly expensive and inaccessible. Making that investment is difficult; it takes a change of mindset.

But you can buy craftsmanship, or you can live it and make it yourself. That's also an opportunity. On a personal growth level, it's incredible: it requires you to stay focused, to be 100% in what you're doing, to understand the material, the techniques, the tools. It's growing while you learn. That's one of the beautiful things about craftsmanship, whatever you do: wood, ceramics, stone, whatever it is.

What are your values as an artist and creator?

I try to keep them the same in the workshop, in the classroom, with my son, with my family. In the end, above all, it's about respect: respect for what you feel, for what you do, for what others do.

Also valuing that everyone has their own response to what you do, and trying not to let it influence you too much, because when you put yourself out there, your work is out there too. In the classroom we're 100% exposed to the comments of students, families, the whole educational community.

And respecting time is so important. There's a phrase I once heard that I loved: "Hurry is another form of poverty." It applies to everything we buy. If you buy clothes made in a hurry, even if they're cheap, what you're really buying is the fact that there are people being impoverished, working much harder than we do. The same happens with a chair: we want it to be valued.

That's why I also like to show the process — so that people understand there's a lot of work behind it, and that's where the result comes from.

Did motherhood change the way you experience your craft?

Motherhood was the beginning of the change. Anyone who has mothered in any way knows it's the moment when everything shifts inside you. The time you're not with your little one, doing something you're passionate about, is a huge sacrifice — especially when they're small.

When my son was 2, I got very ill, and when I came out of it, I said: "I'm not going back to how things were before, because doing something that didn't fulfil me is what made me ill."

And that's when I started studying, that's when I began working with wood.

Being a mother makes me experience it in a completely different way. The boys and girls at school sometimes get it wrong and call me mum. That's where Mamafusta (mum-wood in Catalan) comes from.

And my son loves being in the workshop — children enjoy creating. I hope he never stops, and doesn't become a frustrated adult who has to make the same change I did.

And finally, what is your dream?

I dream that one day, one of my female students will tell me: "I'm here because my mother is a carpenter — I've always been with my mother in the workshop." Just like many of my male students tell me their grandfather, their father or their uncles are carpenters, and that's why they're here — through family tradition, because they've lived it since they were little.

Motherhood, craftsmanship and the passion for making — for me, they're all one thing. And that's also what my son sees. That makes me very happy.

Our thanks to May for opening the doors of her workshop to us, and for a morning of such enriching conversations. We could have stayed for days.

And thank you to videographer and photographer Montse Capdevila for capturing it all with her sensitivity and talent.


May is wearing pieces from the Raíces SS26 collection.