Clog Making @museum.de

M: The craftsman used a paring knife and a spoon drill to get to grips with the block of wood clamped on to his workbench. Several operations were required to turn the unhewn block into a handsome wooden shoe.

F: After carving the outside of the block, it had to be hollowed out. That's the stage shown by local painter Bernhard Winter. If you look at your screen, you'll be able to see Winter's painting from 1904.

M: Clog-making was hard work physically. It was only when the clogs had reached the sanding and polishing stage that the clog maker could get help from his wife and children. Or from an older man, like the one on the right of Winter's painting. Working in this way, the clog maker could manage two pairs a day – three at the most.

F: Klompen, Klotzschen, Holsken, Zoggeli – just some of the terms for wooden shoes, which were widespread throughout Europe, especially in the neighbouring Netherlands. The Ammerland type was usually finished with a leather strap across the top. That took some of the pressure off the instep, made the clogs more comfortable to wear ... and simply looked nice.

M: Depending on what they were going to be used for, the clogs might be fitted with leather uppers, including a shaft. For peat cutting or mowing the reeds on the lake shore, tall waterproof wooden-soled boots were essential.

F: Clogs were worn in every walk of life. They're perfectly suited for life on the farm. If a horse or an ox accidentally stepped on your foot, it wasn't a problem – provided you were wearing your clogs.

M: And for children, there was another pleasant side effect anytime there was a thunderstorm. When the humidity was high, the clay floor in the halls of the houses sweated. It became damp and slippery. Then all you had to do was put on your clogs, get a running start... and you could slip-slide around on the clay floor.