From the Daily Star, November 12, 2003

Maya Eid working on a prototype.

L'Artisan du Liban is one of the country's best-established retailers for handicrafts, but it also has a twofold self-assigned mission, for which it was founded: a social dimension, by creating work and helping people become self-sufficient especially in rural areas, and a cultural dimension, which is to preserve and make known our artisanal patrimony.
Behind the venture that employs 52 full-timers and 800 craftsmen, are the three women that founded it in 1979 with the help of the Mouvement Social: Eliane Comati Mitri, general director; Maya Eid, chief designer, and Hala Abd el Haqq, production manager. "We are a Troika without power struggles," smiles Mitri. "Who said Troikas never work?"

Far from being a mere gift shop, l'Artisan does not target the passing tourist, but the educated Lebanese and the expatriates that want to take beautiful gifts from their country to their friends abroad. In this regard quality, affordability, and innovative designs are its strong points. "We have a very sought-after quality-price ratio and a perfect finish, all this from the hands of women working at home," explains Mitri. "We've been working for over 20 years, it's a know-how that can't be overlooked." The challenge lies in producing objects that are handsome, modern, and that can be integrated into everyday life. The traditional techniques must therefore be adapted to current and practical requirements in order to be marketable. Mitri confides: "The design is the main aspect of the work, so I consider Maya to be a bit the soul of the project. It's very hard to innovate like she does, and yet it's necessary."

Maya Eid has a background in trying out every material and technique she could get her hands on, and this long before the idea of l'Artisan came to light. This priceless experience enables her to be creative in any medium. "I was lucky to come upon this job," she says. "I have many ideas, and they are becoming reality through the hands of all these workers. An idea that can't be realised is worthlessÉ"

The idea itself can be triggered in several ways. Sometimes the object exists in a finished state in Eid's mind, and from there the corresponding techniques must be found and applied. Or, a new material can open a whole new range of possibilities. Most often though, the idea is born from the skills available to the craftsmen, whether professional or amateur, and Eid's role is then to put those skills to good use. "Sometimes we get people who want to work but have no technical knowledge," Mitri adds, "and Maya has to come up with something adapted to their capacities."

Eid starts by trying herself to a prototype of her design. It is then handed to one of the women workers who replicates it. Her handiwork is returned for commentary and criticism, modified if necessary, then the price of the workmanship and the retail price are agreed upon and production begins. L'Artisan has created production workshops throughout the country, with a particularly large implantation in the Akkar. In Beirut the workshop is "broken up" in that women take the raw material home so that they can harmonize their work with their family lives. Strong of their experience with l'Artisan, many of these women have started working for their own account, and even giving work to others.

Parallel to the design work is a constant search for materials that offer good quality for a cheap price. "We get the materials from anywhere we can get them, but the labour must be Lebanese," Eid insists. "We have to get them as cheap as possible so that we can give the maximum to the workers." As their concern for the livelihood of their craftsmen is matched by their desire to preserve nearly-extinct traditional crafts, l'Artisan's team often have to adapt ancestral techniques and train populations in them. Eid gives the example of the halfa (local name of the Esparto grass) that was used to make the large ground mats called hassiri. "There was only one woman left still practicing it. Thanks to the Mouvement Social, we re-trained young women of the village, changed the weaving pattern and the loom, which was very primitive, and we were able to get a very interesting production, from which we make a variety of things – beach bags, containers, even slippersÉ We also have products that mix halfa work with regular basketry."
In the same spirit the Northern villages' specialty in beadwork was oriented towards a production more in tune with modern tastes. "We reworked the patterns, the choice of colours, the fabric, the models. The whole village is on it, they're incredible."

As different techniques are brought together to create new objects, craftsmen that would traditionally not interact are learning to cooperate. Mitri points out the example of a candleholder that combines a glass piece and a copper piece. But progress is not always immediate; adaptation to new ways of thinking about handicrafts can be difficult for or even refused by craftsmen. Eid defines a handicraft as a object handmade according to a traditional technique but above all, a useful object. This notion of usefulness is deeply ingrained in the minds of the craftsmen and it takes time to convince them that there may be value insubverting an object's original purpose. Such was the case with the copper workers that at first couldn't see a point to dishes measuring 12 by 80 cm; such was also the case with the basket weaver that refused to make baskets over 1m of diameter, because they would then be impossible to carry under the arm. Women, in Mitri's experience, are much more open to change. However it is clear that once the new concepts have been assimilated, even formerly reluctant craftsmen pour all their skill into the outstanding new products.

L'Artisan's success does not go without having to reckon with difficulties. One is the fact that any material can suddenly disappear from the market never to be seen again. " Then a substitute has to be found and the workers trained all over again, or we're just unable to continue producing an article," bemoans Mitri. The other difficulty arose with the opening of the Paris branch in 1999, which requires regular shipping to France: the State, as usual, provides no help whatsoever but makes things impossibly difficult instead. The economic crisis constitutes a threat, and Mitri explains: "If we didn't sell wholesale, which creates no profit for us at all, as well as retail, the 800 people benefiting from the project could fall down to 400. Enterprises could help considerably if they made Lebanese gifts instead than importing gadgets for their events."

Finally, not so much an obstacle as a source of aggravation is the piracy that l'Artisan, as a centre of original creation, is bound to experience: Eid's models are badly copied, produced in Syria with a cheaper labour and poorer quality, and then sold here for higher prices. When, we may ask, will Lebanese production benefit from some sort of protection?

Article by Joumana Medlej