Objects with Memory: On Collecting with Intention
We often speak about objects as if they’re static. As if they sit silently, waiting to be admired. But some pieces don’t just fill a space — they hold it.
We’ve come to see collecting not as a pursuit of things, but as a practice of attention. A way to engage with the past, the present, and the choices we make about what endures.
In our studio, we’ve handled vessels etched by centuries, masks softened by generations of touch, and figures with quiet expressions that seem to know more than they show. Some arrive worn. Others arrive whole. All arrive with presence.
The act of collecting, for us, isn’t about acquisition. It’s about alignment. Between an object and a life. Between history and home.
We don’t chase the rarest for the sake of rarity, or the pristine for the sake of polish. Instead, we choose what feels resonant. What lingers.
There’s a rhythm to it — a pace that resists urgency. That favors time, texture, and memory.
The archive we’re building isn’t defined by era or category. It’s defined by feeling. And by the belief that the objects we live with should reflect the values we live by.
