One pair of hands, Auckland
The person behind the pots
Ru mixes, presses, carves, paints, seals, photographs, wraps and posts every piece herself, at a bench under a west-facing window. When something takes four weeks, it is because there is only one of her.
Where the name came from
The first set she carved was for her own windowsill, and it had a monkey on it because a monkey was the easiest animal to paint with a brush that was slightly too big. Her niece looked at it and asked what happened next in the story. That was the whole beginning: not a brand, a question from a five-year-old.
Ru is what her family has always called her. Jungle Story was what the pot became. The two went together on the first parcel label and never came apart.
Why every piece gets a line
Each set leaves with one sentence written for it — the guardian who watches the path, the vine that connects a forgotten story. She started writing them because a photograph of a pot tells you nothing about the afternoon it was made in, and because the person receiving it deserves to be told what she was thinking about while she painted.
The line goes on the tag, and it is never used twice.
A few things she has decided about, so you do not have to ask
No moulds
Every body is pressed and shaped by hand, which is why the rims are never perfectly level. A moulded pot would be cheaper and would not be this.
No repeats
Once a design has sold she does not paint it again. She will happily make something in the same spirit, and tell you where it differs.
No rushing the paint
One commission gets one afternoon. If two people ask in the same week, the second waits rather than gets less.
No sales, ever
The price is the price. Discounting handmade work only tells you the first number was invented.
New pieces, by email
A short note when a new set comes off the bench
Two or three photographs and the piece’s story line. Once or twice a month, never more, and only when there is actually something to show.
No sales, no discount codes, one click to stop