The question I wish to set myself is: Will there be such a thing as early 21st century Maltese furniture in 2214? In other words, will people fall over each other to bid for a 200-year-old Maltese table at the auction of the future?

But first, what is Maltese furniture anyway? Is it simply furniture that happens to have been made in Malta, or does it bear recognisable marks of design and craftsmanship which render it uniquely Maltese?

Like so many things, it all starts with a Google search. ‘Maltese furniture’ gives me two things. First, links to Maltese companies that make or import furniture. Second, links to and images of antique pieces, especially chests of drawers, commodes and bureaux.

That’s because the term is almost exclusively reserved for the antiques trade. It is associated with furniture of a certain period, roughly the early 17th to the late 19th century. There are a very few slightly older pieces, and the 20th century is a different story.

There are good reasons behind the timing. For one, the practice of furnishing interiors with a range of decorative pieces that also stood for the status of the owner is a relatively recent one in Europe generally. Even the grandest of medieval homes were sparse and empty by modern standards.

Thanks mostly to its harbours, Malta was lucky to enter the modern world as the island home of an Order that was wealthy, well-connected and hell-bent on maritime trade and corsairing. This meant the presence of a forward-looking and innovative elite which was based in Valletta but sowed much aspiration beyond the city walls.

While it is true that the bulk of the population lived in impoverished hovels well into the 20th century, there was a significant class of urbane types whose pockets were deep enough to accommodate some semblance of fashion and taste.

Not surprisingly, the prevailing winds blew from the north. The second characteristic of Maltese furniture is that it followed, design-wise, whichever trends happened to prevail in Europe (and especially Italy and France) at the time. Which means, for example, that we can speak of a transitional period in the late 18th century, just as we do for French furniture.

It happened when the naturalistic excess of the rococo gave way to the clean straight lines of neoclassicism. Curved and hoofed feet became straight and tapering, geometric parquetry took over from florid marquetry, and flat fronts from the earlier bombé ones.

The fascinating bit is that pieces from the transitional period often display the characteristics of both rococo and neoclassicism, and that this is as true of Maltese as it is of French and Italian furniture.

Which doesn’t mean that the local type is unrecognisable. On the contrary, the third characteristic of Maltese furniture is its appearance. It can be hard to put a finger on it. Maltese crosses apart, there are few if any design elements that are uniquely local.

Still, most Maltese pieces can be told a mile away. It’s probably down to the combination of uncomplicated design, type of woods used and workmanship.

We actually know very little about the local history of cabinet-making. The two or three books on Maltese furniture that have been published tend to limit themselves to timelines, appearance, and value.

I don’t think people living in 2214 will have a notion of 200-year-old Maltese furniture

There is a small cabal of people who know their local dovetails, veneers and other tricks of the home-grown trade very well indeed. They sit on their knowledge as jealously as a dragon squats on a pile of gold, probably because that knowledge can quite readily be converted into cash in the auction rooms.

Even so, it is usually quite possible for the average person to recognise Maltese craftsmanship. Not to put too fine a point to it, it is usually inferior to and much rougher than that of the great European traditions. And wood was in short supply, which means the average box at the greengrocers has more richness of material about it than an 18th century commode worth thousands.

Veneers could be of high quality and made use of lovely local woods like carob and orange. I’m not sure if the coupling of rich veneers and poor structure can be taken as a metaphor for much of what we call Maltese, but no matter.

In sum, I think we can safely say that there is such a thing as Maltese furniture (as opposed to furniture that happens to have been made in Malta). It is desirable and commands higher values than its workmanship might suggest. It is also invariably antique, which brings me to my main question.

I don’t think people living in 2214 will have a notion of 200-year-old Maltese furniture. (It’s not something I habitually lose sleep over, but still.) The reason is that the furniture we buy today comes in five kinds.

First, high-quality imported items of contemporary design; second, low-quality (usually flat-pack) imported stuff of contemporary design, if any; third, imported pieces that are usually gaudy and revivalist (the Versailles-meets-Ħamrun sort of thing); fourth, copies by local carpenters of the first three kinds; and fifth, replicas of antique Maltese pieces.

There is, as far as I can tell, no contemporary local tradition of furniture design and cabinet-making. By ‘local’ I don’t mean chests of drawers that heave with Maltese crosses and marquetry panels of St Paul’s Islands. Nor do I mean design and workmanship that bears no connection to the broader picture.

Rather, I mean pieces that belong squarely within contemporary fashion but are recognisable as being local nonetheless. Just like the antique commodes and bureaux that fetch such high prices at auction, in fact. I think the last of that breed were a few art nouveau and art deco pieces and the occasional decorative object made by Delia and such.

I said it’s not something that bothers me all that much. Still, it would be nice to see some kind of effort that doesn’t limit itself to filling out shipment order forms or copying pattern books. Art needs innovation, and I hate to think that ours will go down as the age of artless furniture, some of which happens to be made in Malta.

mafalzon@hotmail.com