When I first sat down with Mitsuko to talk about our collaboration, I had all the usual questions in mind: Why clay? What was it like growing up in Japan as a female ceramicist? What inspires her work? But almost immediately, our conversation shifted. It became less about craft and more about connection—especially the deep, quiet bonds we form with animals, and the spaces they leave behind when they’re gone.
It was about three months after my dad had passed—one of the most difficult losses a person can experience. Not long after, our beloved dog passed away too. I won’t say one is harder than the other, but the ache of losing an animal—your quiet companion, your everyday joy—is a different kind of heartbreak.
Around that same time, Mitsuko had also lost her cat. Sitting together at her kitchen table, surrounded by her beautiful ceramics and a little bit of our honey, we shared quiet tears. That moment wasn’t about interviews or work—it was just two people holding space for each other, connected by the silent grief only fellow animal lovers can understand.
Mitsuko has this graceful gentleness—very Japanese in spirit—but when her name comes up among other ceramicists I know, there’s this collective, quiet admiration. She’s not only incredibly skilled, but truly humble.
Her studio, tucked along a creek, is full of light and warmth, with rustic touches and the comforting presence of her work surrounding you. It’s a place where beauty comes to life slowly and intentionally. Getting to know Mitsuko over the years has been a real joy, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have her as part of this journey.
These honey pots are a reflection of that connection—small tokens meant to be shared. They’re just the right size to hold honey for two when you’re sharing tea with someone special. And when not in use, they can sit beautifully on your shelf, a simple reminder of care and craft.
They don’t come with a spoon—on purpose. I’ve always loved using small, special spoons passed down to me, and I encourage you to find your own unique way to serve from it. Or tuck in a flower stem and let it become a little vase.
I hope you love these honey pots as much as I loved dreaming them up with Mitsuko. They carry a story—not just of clay and honey, but of kindness, remembrance, and the quiet beauty of connection.