These Old Bones: The Decline of Building and Those Who Defy It
I’ve been a craftsman for years, shaping wood into furniture, metal into gates, doors into grand entrances, or canvas into paintings, all meant to stand the test of time and express my love for craft. But step into many modern homes, and you’ll find the opposite: flimsy trim, hollow-core doors, crooked walls that creak in a decade. The skilled trades—once the heart of homes built to last centuries—have faded from our culture. Today’s homebuilding industry chases profit over permanence, training trades to work fast and cheap, not to craft with pride. Builders offer a one-year warranty, the bare legal minimum in most U.S. states, because their materials and methods can’t promise more. Why no lifetime guarantee? Training is shallow, passion is scarce, and homes are churned out like disposable products, feeding a commerce machine that values sales over legacy. Yet, some builders and tradesmen push back, using techniques and materials that echo the past. Let’s unpack how we got here, why craftsmen struggle to rise above, and spotlight those who still build for the ages.
The Commerce Machine: How Craftsmanship Fell
Homes once stood as testaments to craft—think colonial timber frames or Amish barns, solid after 200 years. Carpenters, masons, and smiths built with skill and heart, using oak beams and hand-forged iron. Today, the industry’s a different beast. The post-WWII housing boom of the 1940s kicked off a shift, prioritizing speed to meet soaring demand. Balloon framing, particleboard, and vinyl siding replaced hand-hewn oak and stone. A 2023 report noted U.S. homebuilding leans on “cost efficiency,” with most new homes using materials like MDF or plastic fittings, rated for 20-50 years, not centuries. I’ve seen “new” homes with sagging roofs or cracking drywall in a decade—built to flip, not to last.
Legally, builders in most states must offer a one-year warranty on new homes, covering quick defects like leaky pipes or loose fixtures. Lifetime warranties? Almost unheard of—modern materials and rushed techniques don’t hold up. A 2024 builder survey found only 5% of new homes use solid hardwoods or heavy-gauge metals, as they’re too costly for profit-driven timelines. It’s not just stuff; it’s a mindset. Homes are disposable products, feeding a commerce machine. John Ruskin, in The Stones of Venice (1853), warned of industrialization’s erosion of craft for profit—a cry echoed by Wendell Berry in The Unsettling of America (1977), who decries commerce’s toll on meaningful work.
The Cost of True Craftsmanship
Quality craftsmanship comes at a premium, often out of reach in today’s economy, even for those of us, like me, working hard to provide for our families. Solid oak, hand-forged brass, or hand-cut stone cost 2-3 times more than MDF or plastic, per a 2024 Fine Homebuilding report. Skilled labor’s no different—a master carpenter’s time reflects decades of training, not just hours on-site. In the U.S., where commerce drives costs, a custom timber-frame home runs $500-$800 per square foot, compared to $150-$200 for standard builds, while median household incomes ($74,262 in 2023, U.S. Census) struggle to keep up.
This isn’t unique to trades. Our commerce-based lives demand speed to survive—rent, bills, tools eat margins. I’ve seen passionate carpenters forced to churn out quick fixes to make ends meet, no time to perfect dovetails or study lime plaster. It’s the same for artists and musicians—painting, composing, crafting guitars—all lose to the grind. Ervin Somogyi, a master luthier, writes in The Wisdom of the Hands (2023) that hand skills erode when profit trumps meaning. A 2024 Medium post by Dallas Blowers notes tradesmen, painters, and writers sacrifice joy for output. Wendell Berry’s Unsettling (1977) nails it: commerce turns work into a grind, stripping its soul.
Training and Passion: A Fading Art
Craftsmanship demands deep training, but opportunities are scarce. Decades ago, trades learned through long apprenticeships—my early days were with mentors who’d linger over a joint, teaching grain and care. Now, many learn on rushed job sites, where “good enough” beats “built forever.” A 2017 NAHB survey found just 3% of young adults pursue trade careers, with schools pushing college over craft. A 2025 NCCER report noted only 150 hours of basic construction training in some states—barely a start. Passion’s faded too—an assembly-line mindset leaves little room for pride. Even tradesmen eager to excel, like artists or musicians, hit walls. They’re forced to produce fast to cover costs, chaining them to commerce over craft. Georgia O’Keeffe’s call to chase the “unknown” feels distant when bills loom.
The Generational Shift: Experiences Over Endurance
The move away from homeownership reflects both economic pressures and a cultural shift, with each generation—Silent, Boomers, Gen X, Millennials, Gen Z—facing unique motivations and barriers tied to the low quality of most homes today. The Silent Generation (ages 80–97), often on fixed incomes, rarely buys, opting for rentals or senior housing due to health and maintenance concerns (4% of buyers, NAR 2023). Their budgets can’t stretch to quality homes ($500,000-$1M), leaving them with flimsy builds (MDF, vinyl) rated for 20-50 years, not the centuries-old oak or stone I admire. Baby Boomers (ages 61–79), with 39% of buyers (23% Younger, 16% Older), downsize to smaller homes (1,900 sq ft) for retirement, but rising costs and low-quality options (only 5% use hardwoods, 2024 builder survey) push many to rent or stay put, despite valuing longevity.
Generation X (ages 45–60), at 24% of buyers with strong incomes ($114,300), buys larger homes (2,000 sq ft) but is cautious from past recessions. They face the same cheap homes—particleboard, not Amish beams—unless they can afford rare high-end builds ($500-$800/sq ft), leading some to rent in urban areas for flexibility (78% renters cite debt). Millennials (ages 29–44), the largest group at 38% (12% Younger, 17% Older), grapple with debt ($30,000-$40,000 median) and high prices ($315,000 median). 59% prioritize experiences like travel over ownership (Pew 2019), as quality homes are out of reach (median wealth $128,000) and standard builds (vinyl, 20-50 years) don’t inspire. Gen Z (ages 24–28, 4% of buyers) faces low incomes ($50,400) and high costs ($255,000 median), with 67% favoring flexibility—renting, van life—over assets (Harris 2023). They co-buy (78% more likely) or live with family (30%), as cheap homes lack the sustainability they value (Numerator 2024).
This shift stems from a cultural devaluation of longevity, as a 2021 Journal of Consumer Culture study notes—generations raised in a disposable economy see permanence as unattainable, favoring experiences (trips, concerts) over flimsy homes. A 2023 Psychology Today piece adds that lasting creations—like homes—ground identity, which transient lives erode. Experience-driven goals aren’t wrong—I admire the kid backpacking Europe over sweating a mortgage. But they risk reliability (rentals aren’t roots) and authenticity (no anchor for deep work). High-quality homes—built with oak, cherry, or hand-forged iron—are luxuries ($500-$800/sq ft) few can afford, leaving most with the commerce-driven “lie of quality” I’ve seen—homes built to sell, not last.
Traditions That Prove It’s Possible
Craftsmanship endures in pockets. The Amish build barns meant for centuries, like those I’ve seen in Pennsylvania’s Lancaster County—hand-hewn oak, mortise-and-tenon joints, no nails, standing strong after 150 years. Their generational training—hands-on from youth, passed through family collaboration—ensures every beam carries pride (Pennsylvania Folklife, 2023). Japan’s Itakura Kōhō—timber frames with wood infill—keeps temples like Hōryū-ji standing 1,200 years, per a 2025 X post, using nail-free joints that flex with quakes. Italy’s opus caementicium, lime-and-ash concrete, built the Pantheon—2,000 years, uncracked—with durable mixes. England’s stone masonry in Salisbury Cathedral, hand-cut limestone, stands 800 years. Scandinavia’s stave churches, like Norway’s 900-year-old Borgund, use interlocking pine and tar-sealed roofs, per a 2024 UNESCO report. These share a truth: quality materials, deep skill, and time beat shortcuts.
Builders Who Defy the Decline
Some U.S. builders reject the commerce machine, crafting homes with techniques and materials built to last. Here are four exemplars, plus three in North Carolina, proving craftsmanship lives:
Bensonwood (Walpole, NH): Known for timber-frame homes, Bensonwood uses solid oak and Douglas fir, joined with mortise-and-tenon techniques like Amish barns. Their “open-built” system integrates wiring into pre-insulated panels, ensuring a 100-year lifespan. A 2025 Fine Homebuilding article praised their hand-finished joinery, with visible pegs that celebrate craft over concealment.
Blue Ox Timber Frames (Booneville, CA): Specializing in heavy timber, Blue Ox hand-cuts reclaimed old-growth redwood beams, using pegged tenons for seismic resilience. A 2024 Timber Home Living piece highlighted a California estate with hand-planed surfaces and exposed beams, built for 200 years.
Heritage Restorations (Waco, TX): This firm rebuilds 18th-century barns into homes, using original hand-hewn oak and chestnut with dovetail joints. A 2025 Dwell profile noted a Texas project with lime-based mortar and hand-forged hinges, mimicking Roman durability for centuries.
Lakestone Enterprises (Schroon Lake, NY): Focused on log and timber homes, Lakestone uses hand-peeled Eastern white pine logs, sealed with natural resins like Scandinavian staves. A 2024 Adirondack Explorer feature showcased a home with interlocking corner notches and hand-chiseled detailing, built for 150 years of harsh winters.
In North Carolina, these builders shine:
Homes By Dickerson (Raleigh, NC): They use solid oak flooring, custom-milled cherry cabinetry, and hand-finished walnut trim, paired with copper flashing for weather resistance. A 2021 client review praised a Chapel Hill home’s “timeless structure,” with brickwork laid in Flemish bond for a century’s durability.
Dunning Custom Homes (Pittsboro, NC): Led by John Dunning, this outfit crafts homes with hand-selected walnut for trim and stone masonry inspired by English cathedrals. A 2022 testimonial lauded a Chatham County project for its dovetailed built-ins and hand-cut slate roofing, designed to last 100 years.
Ron Williams Building Company (Winston-Salem, NC): In its fifth generation, this family-run firm carries a legacy of quality, using reclaimed heart pine floors from 19th-century mills and hand-forged iron hardware from local smiths. A 2023 review on their site (rwbuilding.com) highlighted a Lewisville home with hand-scraped oak beams and custom-milled cherry paneling, built for “generations, not decades.” Their training—mentoring craftsmen for 10-25 years, with hands-on guidance from family elders—mirrors Amish generational hand-downs, fostering precision and pride. This approach, rare in a commerce-driven industry, ensures every cut and joint reflects a commitment to craft that endures.
Gratefully, I know there are more examples of superb craftsmanship than listed here, which a promising sign that may signal a much-needed shift toward higher expectations in homebuilding.
The Path Back
Reclaiming craftsmanship starts with self-education and higher expectations, like I did when I couldn’t afford quality and taught myself to create it. Learn about durable materials—oak over MDF, brass over plastic—and techniques that last, like precise joinery or proper staining. Demand more from your home, and appreciate the skill in a carpenter’s tight miter or a mason’s steady stonework. Recognizing quality fuels the passion to build better, setting the foundation for a lasting legacy.
You can bring pride and permanence to your home yourself, with DIY projects that echo the care of Amish barns or Japanese temples. Start small: craft wood trim or crown molding from solid oak, not MDF, using a weekend and $50-$100 in materials from a local lumberyard—measure twice, cut once, like my mentors taught. Refinish old cabinets with a durable stain and new brass knobs for $30-$75, turning dated oak into something timeless. Build a bookshelf from premade pine units, adding hand-cut trim for $100-$150, sturdy enough for generations. Upcycle an old hutch into a pantry with paint and salvaged wood for under $50, giving it a story that lasts. These aren’t quick hacks—they demand patience and skill, but they’re affordable ways to reject the “lie of quality” and learn craft, just as I did when I couldn’t afford what I craved.
For projects that feel too big for DIY—intricate millwork, structural framing, or custom gates—don’t give up on quality. Reach out to me through my Crafted Solutions, and I’ll connect you with craftsmen who share my passion for building to last, not just to sell. Whether it’s a grand entrance or a timeless built-in, we can find pros whose pride matches the Amish or Japanese masters, turning your vision into reality without the commerce-driven shortcuts. Support schools pushing apprenticeships; a 2025 trade initiative saw a 10% rise in carpentry programs with mentor-led training. Celebrate pros who build with pride—carpenters, electricians, plumbers—not for one-year warranties, but for lifetimes. It’s a mindset shift: away from commerce’s churn, toward work that lasts.
The Craftsman’s Truth
I’m constantly humbled watching true craftsmen, proud of their work as they leave a site, knowing it’ll stand for decades. I’m on this journey too—still learning every day, striving for mastery, but feeling it’s always just out of reach. As an artist, musician, and craftsman, I’ve been ground down by the commerce machine, but I won’t stop. I’m holding on to something bigger: the spirit I see behind the eyes of my fellow humans, the drive to persevere, the belief we can lift each other through shared experiences. We’re in this together. I didn’t just stumble onto this path of crafting the best I can, full of pride. I came from humble roots, surrounded by the commerce-driven lie of quality—homes thrown together, built to sell, not last. Seeing that, watching commerce chew up artists and the economy drown musicians, sparked a hunger in me for something more meaningful, elegant, lasting. I couldn’t afford the quality I craved, so I learned to make it myself. That’s what fuels me, and it’s why I carry this torch for craftsmanship. Amish beams, Japanese temples, Roman domes—they show what’s possible. Training, passion, pride make a home endure, despite a world racing for profit. Choose craft. Your home and your life are worth it.