Jay Blades: ‘Everything I do is much larger than myself’

Being poor brought me to making. On my council estate, you had to make do and mend in order to make your living space more comfortable. When I was younger I couldn’t afford to buy certain things, so I just got wood, bricks or anything I found out on the street and made shelving units, wardrobes – even a bed, which I made from wooden pallets. It was about being resourceful.

I came to furniture restoration through my work with young people. I was running a conflict resolution charity called Street Dreams, which was employed by local councils, police and social services – but funding dried up. While I was helping a young person restore a desk that he had been given, it dawned on me: learning how to revamp old furniture was a whole project in itself. So I set up a new charity, Out of the Dark, to focus on gaining furniture skills.

Because I got into the restoration game late, I had no formal training. But luckily I was in High Wycombe, which used to be the furniture capital of England, and I asked some retired professionals if they could teach young people and me their skills. The community came through and taught us. Our oldest teacher, Ken, was 92 – he showed us how to cane and rush a chair. I learned my craft on the job, the old-fashioned way.

I love mid-century furniture design. My furniture restoration company Jay & Co pays homage to what was classified as ‘modern’ back then, bringing those designs into the 21st century: whether that’s by painting a chair leg or adding a different flavour with a fabric that wasn't around at the time.

Today I'm known as a maker, but I'm so busy that I can't make. It doesn’t make sense! But I've sussed that my brand is bigger than me and everything I do is much larger than myself. I feel gutted about not making more, but I also feel fortunate that I'm able to influence people with what I'm doing on TV and with charities. And don't get me wrong, I've still got my workshop. Every now and again, I'll pop in there and have a little muck about. Making a mark on wood is a beautiful feeling.

The furniture designer Ernest Race made a massive impact on me. He’s the original upcycler – I applaud the designers of yesteryear who were working sustainably before it was fashionable. After the Second World War, Race melted down decommissioned aeroplanes and ammunition to make furniture. People like him were designing objects to stand the test of time, built with potential for repair. The G Plan or Ercol pieces that your grandparents bought when they got married are still going strong. Now what we've got is a consumer society, in which people are designing and manufacturing stuff with a lifespan of a year.

Nothing should go to a landfill site. Some manufacturers are now adopting lifetime repair policies for their furniture. Sebastian Cox, Benchmark and Anglepoise are basically stating: if you have something that you bought from us and it isn't usable, we'll repair it. I have 100% respect for that approach.

Make the undesirable desirable – in a nutshell, that’s the philosophy behind Jay & Co. Don’t look at rubbish as rubbish. I’m happy with every project I’ve done, because they’ve all saved materials from being thrown away. I was over the moon with the Legacy Wingback Chair we made for Heal’s recently, which is made of roughly 95% recycled or reclaimed materials.

I think attitudes are changing – sustainability is not a flash in the pan. We are destroying the planet at an alarming rate by buying then just throwing stuff away. We need more education around repair. It needs to feel accessible: people see craft experts achieving the unachievable, and that makes it quite daunting for someone who just wants to fix their curtains. We need more places like The Goodlife Centre in London, which offers really basic training first, then goes from there.

The people who go on The Repair Shop are so brave. It's daunting to come in to an environment that you've seen on TV, knowing four to six million people are watching. They often get emotional when they tell the family stories behind the object that wants fixing. They’re not actors, they’re not presenters: they’re just courageous people sharing their journey.

In my eyes, dyslexia is a superpower. Without it, I wouldn’t be where I am today. We value the creativity that often comes with it – making a chair or using fabric in a way that no one ever thought of – but not the disability. Society is all about reading, which I think isn't fair. With my BBC documentary Jay Blades: Learning to Read at 51, I wanted people to understand that dyslexia is something you adapt to – and sometimes, you achieve the unachievable.

If you can’t see it, you can’t be it. Since the Black Lives Matter protests in 2020, I’ve seen more diversity on boards of trustees and so on, but there’s still a sense that the design world is elitist. That’s why I’m looking to create change in all I do, whether it’s being an ambassador for the Queen Elizabeth Scholarship Trust and the Prince’s Foundation, a co-chair on the board of trustees of Heritage Crafts or my work on TV. I’m trying to make sure other people like me know you can be successful in craft. But if you keep knocking on a door that won’t open for you, consider getting together with like-minded people to make a new door. Don’t wait for someone to let you in.

You've got to have fun with what you're doing. That’s my advice to any craft newbies: try and have a positive attitude and enjoy yourself. Also, walk like you have somewhere to go. Hold your shoulders up and your head high; when you do that, you have presence.

My proudest moment? Ask me that question on my deathbed and I’ll let you know. I have such a drive to keep achieving. I’ve done a lot, and I’m going to do a lot more.