Questions

We go, we walk, and we buy things we would keep. There is no buying committee and no trend forecast. The test we apply in the workshop is whether somebody made a decision — about a curve, a weight, a finish — and then stood by it, and whether the object will still be in use in twenty years. We also do not buy on the first visit. If it is still on our minds the next morning, we go back. A good proportion of our collection trips end with us buying nothing at all, which is not a wasted trip: you learn what a thing should cost and what it should feel like, so that you recognise it somewhere else.

Because that is how many there were. A workshop of three people in Kyoto makes about two hundred pieces a month and sells most of them locally; what we can buy is whatever is on the drying rack that week. Twelve of something is a large purchase for us. Four is common. We could ask a maker to scale up, and every so often someone offers, but the thing that makes the object worth carrying halfway around the world is precisely the thing that disappears when you make four hundred of it a month.

A small card that travels in the box with every object. It records where it was found, the workshop or maker where possible, the coordinates, the collection trip it came from, and the object number. It is written out for each piece rather than printed in bulk. It is the part of the business we care most about, partly for the obvious romantic reason and partly for a practical one: it is the only durable record of provenance an object like this ever gets. Keep it. We ask for it back if you return something, and it will matter if you ever pass the object on.

Almost never, and we would rather say that plainly than keep you on a waiting list. When an object shows “sold out — gone for good”, it means the batch is finished and we have no reason to believe there will be another one in that form. Sometimes we go back to the same maker on a later trip and come home with something adjacent — a different glaze, a slightly different size — and we list it as a new object rather than pretending it is the old one back. If you want to hear about that, the drops list is the place to be.

Everything from one collection trip, released at once, usually on a Sunday at 11am IST. Between twenty and forty objects. We do it that way because the alternative is trickling things onto the site as they clear customs, which means the good pieces go to whoever happened to be looking that afternoon. A drop is announced by email about four days beforehand with a full preview, so you can decide before the clock starts rather than during it. Objects in the drop are not held back or drip-fed — what is there on Sunday morning is everything.

Yes, ₹250, ticked at checkout. Unbleached paper, cotton string, a wax seal and a hand-written card with your message on it — no plastic, no ribbon, nothing that has to be thrown away. If it is going straight to the recipient we leave the invoice out and email it to you instead. Say so in the message field. We cannot gift wrap and dispatch the same day; add a day to the timings on the shipping page.

Leave it alone and it will do the right thing. Unlacquered brass oxidises from yellow to a soft brown over roughly eighteen months and then more or less stops changing. If you want it bright again: half a lemon and a spoonful of salt, thirty seconds, rinse and dry properly. What you must not do is use a proprietary metal polish on a chased or hammered surface — the abrasive collects in the recesses and dries chalky white, and getting it out involves a toothbrush and an afternoon. We know this because we did it to a tray in 2024. Never put brass in a dishwasher.

Terracotta is porous, which is the whole point — a Verdú water jug keeps water cool because a little of it evaporates through the wall. Season a new piece by filling it with water and leaving it for a day before first use; the first day of water is best poured on a plant. Wash with hot water and a brush, never with detergent, which the clay absorbs and then releases into whatever you put in next. Expect water marks and a darkening of the surface. Do not put it in a fridge wet and do not put it in a dishwasher.

Lacquer is tougher than it looks and hopeless at exactly two things: heat and sunlight. Do not put it in a dishwasher, a microwave or an oven, and do not leave it on a windowsill — UV dulls the surface and, over years, will craze it. Wash by hand in warm water with a soft cloth, dry immediately, and never use anything abrasive. A new piece may smell faintly for a week or two; leave it out and it goes. Properly kept, a Hoi An bowl outlives its owner, which is the standard we bought it against.

No. We import everything ourselves, pay the duty, and clear it through Indian customs before it is ever listed — the price you see is the price you pay, and there is nothing to collect at your door. We ship domestically within India only. If you are ordering from outside India, we are afraid we cannot help yet; see the shipping page for why.

Yes, within reason, and the reason is stock. We can usually put together twenty to fifty gifts if you give us four to six weeks, and we will be honest about which objects can be matched in that quantity and which cannot — a set of forty identical Kyoto bowls does not exist and we will not pretend otherwise. What tends to work better is a fixed price per gift with a curated spread of objects, each with its own passport card. Email us with numbers, a budget and the date, and please make the date real.

Not everything, and we try to be exact about it. Some objects are hand-made start to finish by one person. Some are machine-made to a very high standard by a small workshop — the Zurich rulers are turned on a lathe by a shop that otherwise makes aerospace parts, and they are none the worse for it. What we do not carry is anything that is factory-produced and dressed up as artisanal. If you want to know exactly how a particular object was made, ask; whoever answers will have been in the room.