Why this workshop exists

We started in a shared Woodstock unit with two wheels, a borrowed kiln and a stubborn idea: that everyday objects deserve the same attention as gallery pieces. The studio grew slowly, one commission at a time, and the people who joined brought their own obsessions with them.

Documentation over decoration

Every piece leaves with real measurements in millimetres, glaze notes and a photo record of the process. If a wall thickness changes between batches, that goes in the sheet too. Clients ordering for a café or a shop need to know what they are actually getting, not a mood.

Small runs, kept honest

We take limited commissions because the kiln and the dye baths set the pace. A vajilla series for a coffee bar, a run of brass pendants for a design shop, a batch of naturally dyed throws. No piece is repeated indefinitely, and colour variation between dye lots is part of the record, not a defect to hide.

What clients take away

Objects that hold up in daily use, a paper trail they can hand to a buyer or a curator, and a working relationship with the people who threw, welded or wove the thing. That last part matters more than any catalogue.

How the studio took shape

Woodstock wasn't the first address. It was the one that finally fit the work.

  1. 2016

    A kiln in a garage

    Two ceramicists and a product photographer started sharing a single secondhand kiln off Albert Road. The first pieces were test tiles and glaze failures, logged in a notebook that still sits on the studio shelf.

    What came out of that year was a habit: photograph every stage, measure every piece, keep the rejects. That record became the backbone of how we document work today.

  2. 2018

    The first café commission

    A café in Observatory asked for a full service of stoneware that could survive a commercial dishwasher. We threw 24 pieces in white stoneware, left the rims unglazed, and fired to 1240 °C. Three of the original cups are still in rotation there.

    That order taught us to design for weight and stacking, not just for the shelf. Wall thickness between 6 and 8 mm became our working range.

  3. 2020

    Brass, linen, and a slower catalogue

    We added a metal bench and started brushing brass by hand for a pendant family in three diameters. The linen shades are cut and sewn in-house, which means a lead time we can actually predict.

    Around the same time we began dyeing wool and cotton with acacia bark, madder root, and onion skin. Every dye batch gets a colour card, so a repeat order two years later still lands in the same range.

  4. Today

    A small collective, a fixed address

    The workshop now holds four makers and one photographer. We take commissions from design shops, galleries, and cafés, and we keep a limited run of pieces available directly from the studio.

    Visits are by appointment so the kiln schedule isn't interrupted. If you want to see glaze samples in person or talk through a commission, that's the easiest way to start.

How the studio grew, year by year

A small collective in Woodstock does not appear overnight. Here is the sequence of commissions, moves and material experiments that shaped what we make today, with the dates that actually mattered.

  1. 2019

    First wheel in a shared Woodstock unit

    Two ceramists and a product photographer split a former textile warehouse on Sir Lowry Road. The first kiln was second-hand, and the earliest glaze tests were fired at night to avoid tripping the building's old wiring.

  2. 2020

    The Observatory café commission

    A café in Observatory ordered 24 pieces of stoneware for daily service. That job set our working method: 6 to 8 mm walls, slow drying, and a 1240 °C firing curve we still log for every batch.

  3. 2021

    Brass enters the workshop

    A design store asked for a lighting family. We began brushing brass by hand in 120 mm, 180 mm and 240 mm diameters, pairing it with raw linen shades sewn on site. Each unit left with a spec sheet in millimetres.

  4. 2022

    Natural dye vats and reclaimed timber

    Acacia bark, madder root and onion skin replaced synthetic dyes. We logged every dye bath as a colour reference and started building furniture from salvaged Cape hardwood, keeping the original nail marks where the structure allowed.

  5. 2023

    Documentation becomes part of the work

    Process photography moved in-house. Every series now ships with wheel shots, drying notes, material sheets and real measurements, so a gallery or shop can read a piece before it arrives.

  6. 2024

    Limited orders from the Woodstock floor

    We capped production to keep hand-finishing honest. Commissions for shops, cafés and galleries are taken in small runs, and workshop visits are arranged by appointment so the kiln schedule stays intact.

Who we are, and why the work looks the way it does

Shoppario Studio is a small collective working out of a converted warehouse in Woodstock, Cape Town. Four of us share the space: two designers, a ceramicist who runs the wheel, and a product photographer who documents every piece before it leaves the bench. We came together around a shared irritation with objects that look handmade in photos but feel anonymous in the hand.

Our work sits between craft and production. We throw stoneware in small runs, brush-finish brass by hand, dye wool and cotton with acacia bark and madder root, and build furniture from reclaimed timber that we mill ourselves. Nothing leaves the studio without a material sheet and real measurements in millimetres.

Shoppario Studio our work

Who we make for

Design shops, cafés and galleries that want a short, traceable supply chain. We also take limited commissions from individuals who care about how a piece ages.

How we work

Commissions start with a conversation about use, not aesthetics. Then samples: a glaze tile, a brass offcut, a dye swatch. Production only begins once you have held something real.

How we talk

Plainly. We tell you when a glaze will craze, when a timber batch is uneven, or when a deadline is unrealistic. No polished pitch, just the honest version of what the material will do.

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