This time last year, I travelled through North India—from the chaos of Delhi to the quiet foothills of the Himalayas. Along the way, I kept noticing a particular kind of blue-green. Teal blues and deep river greens showed up in unexpected places: in the velvet folds of fabrics, in lime-washed village walls, in copper turned soft with age. It was the colour of stillness and age, of water and time.
When I returned home, that teal kept resurfacing in my memory. It had found its way in.
I don’t see creativity as something we own or control. It moves through us—intuitive, ancient, and often unexpected. In India, everything challenged me: the heat, the crowds, the trail hikes. And yet, beauty met me at every turn. Children playing barefoot in the dust, villagers offering food and tea, temples worn soft by time. Even the animals were honoured—dogs blessed with pujas, draped in marigolds; cows painted and fed with ceremony; the trees decorated. Everything belonged. Everything was sacred.
Surrounded by colour, ritual, and care, I felt that current move through me. I returned home devoted—not to the idea of a new ceramic collection, but to honouring whatever wanted to come through. This Antique glaze is part of that. It carries memory, story, and the warmth of something already lived. Like an old robe, worn at the collar, passed down through generations. Quietly opulent. Full of soul.
The colour itself carries deep teal blues and greens that echo the waters of the Ganga. Satin, matte, and gloss break across the form—touches of fire, time, and human hands. Flecks of iron peek through the surface, like memory surfacing through stone. We used a darker clay to deepen the contrast, leaving you with a sense that this piece has already lived a life. Our Antique glaze is an extension of our rustic soda-fired collection—the one that always felt like dining at grandma’s table.
You’ll find it now across our mugs, tumblers, espresso cups, and a sweet little teaspoon. I hope they carry something meaningful into your hands, too.
