Kincraft: Relating to the land through skills and crafts.

In many courses today, the focus tends to be on methods and approaches—what skills we need to learn and how to master them. Whether in bushcraft, survival, or ancestral skills, the attention gravitates toward the techniques: how to build a shelter, how to start a fire, or how to craft a tool from bone or stone. What is often missing is a deeper exploration of the meanings and values that spark the desire for these skills in the first place. How do these practices affect the way we relate to the land, and what kind of culture might emerge from them if we shifted our perspective?

Take bushcraft as an example. Much of the focus here is on the knowledge and abilities needed to traverse a landscape, whether it's woodland, coastline, or another environment. There’s an underlying narrative that evokes adventure and discovery—often with subtle nods to colonial histories of exploration. The language around bushcraft sometimes emphasizes the thrill of venturing into "other lands," unintentionally echoing colonial narratives of discovery and domination. This notion of wilderness as something "out there" to be conquered or tamed is deeply ingrained in many outdoor pursuits.

Survival training, on the other hand, is often framed around preparing for extreme, often unlikely, scenarios—how to escape a dire situation. While many find entertainment in the adrenaline of survivalism, this doesn’t resonate with me personally. The mindset it promotes can feel disconnected from the more grounded, everyday relationship we have with the land we live on. In both bushcraft and survival, there’s an implicit separation: nature is something external to the self to be mastered or endured.

Ancestral skills represent a different but still incomplete approach. These crafts—whether making fish leather, flint tools, or bone needles—are rooted in a deeper tradition, connecting practitioners with their ancestors. Yet even here, the focus remains largely on the tangible artefacts themselves. The intricate relationships between materials and the land from which they come often remain unexplored. The emphasis is on the object: "Look, I made this with my hands," as though the process of crafting alone will bring about some internal transformation. And while making something tangible can indeed stir something profound within us—I have experienced this myself—it feels incomplete when it stops there. What’s often missing is an exploration of how these practices connect us, not just to the past or to an abstract notion of wilderness, but to the physical places we inhabit.

Other others, such as forest school, have an explid educational and human wellbeing focus. Interestingly, the structure of forest schools means that there is long term, regular time within the Land. Whilst this is positive, this can lead to a formulaic, curriculum-driven approach that treats the Land as something to be gained from and/or learned about they miss the fundamental question of how it can nurture kinship with the Land in any meaningful way.

Whilst there are those that engage with the approaches mentioned above, with clear intention of connecting with the more-thatn-human, the framing of them in and of themselves limits, or biases the experiences they provide.

A Place-Centered Approach to Skills

The courses I’m currently developing aim to shift the focus. Instead of seeing bushcraft or ancestral skills as an end in themselves, I want to explore how these practices can foster a deeper relationship with the land, especially the land immediately around us. I’ve always found the most interesting question that arises from learning these kinds of skills is this: How does this change my relationship with the land where I gather and practice these crafts?

The emphasis of these courses will be on how skills and crafts can create a meaningful impact on the places we live in in the 21st century. In a world where terms like "wilderness" or "nature" are often romanticized or disconnected from everyday life, I want to bring attention to the local land, the places that are imminent and immediate to us. The fields, hedgerows, woodlands, and heathlands that make up our watersheds—these are the landscapes that shape our daily lives, whether we are aware of it or not.

In many outdoor skills communities, there’s a tendency to focus on the “wild”—an often distant, abstract idea of untouched nature. This notion can create a barrier between ourselves and the places we inhabit, as though meaningful connection to the land is only possible in remote, pristine environments. What interests me, however, is how these crafts influence the way we perceive and relate to the land that is close to us—the landscapes we are part of every day. How do these skills help us see the hedgerow behind our house or the woods on the edge of town in a new light? How do they encourage us to belong to these places rather than merely passing through them on our way to somewhere else?

More Than Entertainment: Craft as Culture

There is, of course, nothing wrong with enjoying outdoor activities as a form of entertainment. I have a deep appreciation for anyone who finds joy in spending time outdoors, as long as they respect the land and the communities wherever they go. But what excites me most is seeing these skills and crafts as something more than just a hobby, more than an industry to capitalize on. I am passionate about exploring how these practices influence culture, not just on an individual level but also within the wider community.

The word "culture" itself comes from the Latin "colere", meaning to tend, cultivate, or dwell. In this sense, culture is inherently about place. The way we inhabit and care for the land shapes who we are as a people. I believe that the ancestral knowledge embedded in traditional crafts can help nurture a sense of the land being part of who we are, not just something we visit or use. Many people today understand the intellectual arguments about ecology and climate change—we know that we need to live more sustainably and that our actions have a profound impact on the planet. However, what I want to explore through these courses is how communities can drive themselves to live not just sustainably but regeneratively by deepening their relationship with the land they inhabit.

Craft as a Path to Regeneration

The idea of living regeneratively is central to these courses. In a world increasingly focused on sustainability—often framed in terms of minimizing harm—I believe we need to push further. Regeneration is about actively improving the health and vitality of the land, creating systems that support life in all its forms. The question then becomes: How can these traditional skills contribute to a regenerative culture that respects the land and actively restores and enriches it?

Through the process of making and doing—whether it’s foraging, building, or crafting—we can begin to cultivate a more intimate understanding of the landscapes around us. Gathering materials from local ecosystems invites a deep awareness of seasonal cycles, ecological interrelationships, and the limits of what the land can provide. Crafting with natural materials encourages mindfulness of the resources we use and our environmental impact. These are the foundations of a regenerative approach, where every action is an opportunity to give back to the land, rather than just taking from it.

Kincraft: A New Way of Learning

I refer to this way of teaching and learning as "kincraft." The word "kin" evokes a sense of family, connection, and belonging. In this context, kincraft is about fostering a kinship with the land, with the plants, animals, and materials we work with, and with the communities we are part of. Through this lens, the skills we learn become more than just practical tools—they become pathways to a deeper relationship with the living world.

Kincraft is also about creating new ways of belonging to the land. Instead of framing bushcraft or ancestral skills as something exotic or otherworldly, we bring them into the present, into our local contexts. How can these skills help us feel more at home in the landscapes we live in, whether rural, suburban, or urban? How can they help us see ourselves as part of the ecosystems we inhabit rather than separate from them?

Craft as a Catalyst for Cultural Change

Ultimately, the courses I’m developing are about cultural transformation. The skills we learn in bushcraft, ancestral crafts, or any other traditional practice are not just about survival or self-sufficiency—they are about shaping how we relate to the world around us. By grounding these skills in the local landscape, we can begin to create a culture that is more deeply connected to place, more attuned to the rhythms of the natural world, and more committed to the work of regeneration.

This is not an abstract or ideological goal. It can be woven into the fabric of our everyday lives by gathering materials, making something with our hands, and paying attention to the land that supports us. Through kincraft, we can inspire others to explore new, everyday ways of belonging to the places we live.