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Journal

Notes from the bench.

Three pieces of writing from the studio. No product launches dressed up as essays.

Undyed linen with a visible slub, folded on a pale oak table

March 2026 · Textiles

Undyed, on purpose

The mill in Guimarães asked which white we meant. Optical white, warm white, the white that photographs well next to marble. We meant none of them. We meant the color of the flax after it is retted, spun, and washed.

That color is a kind of oat. It shifts with the season’s crop, which makes a buyer nervous and a table calmer. A bright white runner is a costume. This one can sit under a Tuesday soup and still look like cloth, not like a decision.

We stonewash each runner once before it leaves the mill. The slub stays. The short hems are done by hand because a machine hem on this weight of linen looks like it is holding its breath. Wash it cold. Hang it. Iron it damp if you are having people; leave it if you are not.

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Raw speckled stoneware pieces drying on wooden boards

January 2026 · Ceramics

Notes from the wheel

In Caldas da Rainha the studio is a low room with a high window. We spent four days there in January agreeing the next firing: carafes, bowls, and the pair of mugs. The clay body is the same for all three, which is why they look related even when they are not bought together.

The mugs are where we argue. A perfectly even rim is easy to like in a photograph and slightly dull in the hand. We asked the thrower to stop trimming the lip the moment it felt finished, not the moment it looked circular. Two mugs from one board will not stack into a neat column. They are sold as a pair anyway.

The charcoal lip on the carafe is a dip, not a painted line. It breaks where the glaze is thin, over the shoulder. If yours is a little wider on one side, that is the pot, not a mistake in the parcel.

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A quiet showroom shelf with ceramics, folded linen, and brass

November 2025 · The table

A Tuesday table

A table set for guests is a performance. A table set for Tuesday has to survive being the place where mail lands. We keep that in mind when we edit the shop. If an object only works when the rest of the room is also performing, it does not stay.

The version we actually use: the oat runner down the middle, even if it is creased. The speckle bowl off to one side with fruit, not centered like a trophy. One arc holder, not three. The long board lives on the counter until something hot needs a landing place, then it comes to the table and goes back.

Water goes in the carafe in the morning. That is the whole ritual. If you are waiting for a better occasion, the objects are just stored ceramics, and storage is not what we are making.

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