A Milestone in Clay - Our Largest Commission to Date
After four months of focused work, countless hours of rhythm, repetition, and refinement, our biggest commission to date is finally complete.
This project has been both a physical and emotional journey — one that required precision, patience, and deep commitment to consistency across scale. It stands as a quiet celebration of what is possible when craftsmanship is paired with trust and long-term vision.
The commission consists of:
300 dinner plates
300 bowls
300 tea and coffee cups
150 sake cups
As well as teapots, pitchers, and serving platters
Each piece was carefully shaped, fired, inspected, and finished with the same attention normally given to a single, intimate run of handcrafted ceramics — now multiplied into hundreds, without losing the soul of the handmade.
A Study in Surface & Restraint
The entire collection is finished in a refined palette that speaks of calm, modern elegance:
MAMO white matte glaze
Black matte silver
Grey glaze combination
These surfaces were chosen not to dominate, but to support the ritual of dining — allowing food, light, and touch to take centre stage. Soft, quiet, grounded — yet deeply confident in presence.
Repetition as Devotion
Large commissions demand more than technical ability. They ask for discipline, rhythm, and reverence for process. Every form had to echo the same proportions, the same balance, the same tactile language — and yet remain human, alive, imperfect in the most beautiful way.
This was not mass production. This was slow precision, multiplied.
A choreography of clay, glaze, fire, and time.
Gratitude & Growth
Completing this order feels like crossing a threshold — a moment of growth not only for our studio capacity, but for what we trust ourselves capable of holding. We are deeply grateful for the confidence placed in us and proud of the quiet strength that carried this body of work into completion.
Each plate, bowl, and cup now journeys onward to become part of shared meals, gatherings, and daily rituals — holding stories we will never see, yet somehow feel connected to.
And that, perhaps, is the most beautiful part of all.
