Meet the maker: pots from Kiln Street
Every vessel on our shelves is cast just down the street. A visit to the workshop where our pots begin as buckets of slip.
Walk two doors down from the shop and you'll hear it before you see it: the rhythmic slap of slip against plaster moulds. This is where our pots come from — not a warehouse, a workshop.
The casting room still has the old foundry's bones: brick floors, iron beams, a skylight that turns the whole place gold at four in the afternoon. Each pot is poured, trimmed, and fired within a hundred metres of the plant it will eventually hold. We think that matters. A handmade pot has weight and wobble and thumbprints, and a plant potted by hand in a pot made by hand feels different on a windowsill than something that came off a line.
Next time you're in, turn your pot over. The stamp on the base is the maker's mark. Kettle's always on if you want the full tour.