Bare Hands, Bare Feet: A Ceramic Tribute to Stella and Edric
Ceramics have always held a quiet power in my life—not just as objects, but as memories. My mother, Stella, has collected ceramics for as long as I can remember. As a child, I’d watch her pack tubes of pigments into her suitcase, destined not for some chic atelier in Europe, but for a potter’s studio on the island of Antigua. She wasn’t hauling art supplies for herself. She brought them for Edric—a local ceramicist who didn’t have access to any.
While most people on vacation made a beeline for the beach, Stella would go straight to the studio. It was open-air, humid, and caked in clay. I still remember the scent of the place—the rich, earthy dampness of wet soil and raw glaze. It was intoxicating. I’d sit quietly beside her as she worked alongside Edric, designing pieces that married her vision with his innate love of foliage and form. His aesthetic was rooted in the tropics, a natural extension of the land around him.
Edric was always barefoot. “Bare hands, bare feet,” he’d say. “It’s how I stay connected to the earth.” There was something so honest and reverent about that. No pretense. Just mud and magic.
Stella’s favorite color—a shade somewhere between celadon and cerulean—always found its way into the final pieces. She’d place an order each year, and pick it up the next: gifts for friends, one-offs, and pieces Edric made just for her, his tribute to her eye.
I’m not an artist in the traditional sense—I don’t throw on a wheel, nor do I paint. But the debut Anthologist ceramic collection is an homage to Stella and Edric’s beautiful creative rhythm. I’ve taken what I learned from years of observation—watching my mother direct with grace, and Edric respond with soul—and shaped a collection that’s rooted in the same spirit.
Today, our ceramics are crafted in Athens by a single artisan working in a studio not unlike Edric’s. It’s small, imperfect, human. I love being in that space. I often find myself barefoot too.
What we’ve created isn’t just tableware. It’s a continuation of a story. One of earth, memory, and the intimacy of handmade things. Of pigment tucked into suitcases, of tropical breezes and Greek sunlight. Of the way something made with bare hands can carry an entire world within it.
Shop the collection here.
