My journey began in Mexico City, where I spent a few weeks immersed in its vibrant energy — wandering through the Lagunilla vintage market, exploring museums and galleries, and visiting several of Luis Barragán’s iconic houses. The city’s mix of history, design, and contemporary creativity set the tone for a trip shaped by craftsmanship.
From there, I traveled south to Oaxaca. I started eating very well — the food there is incredibly delicious — and between bites of mole and handmade tortillas, I went from village to village, each known for its own ceramic specialty.
Getting lost became part of the adventure: Google Maps would often lead me through winding routes that crossed tiny rural communities, but it was the best way to get lost. Along the way, I discovered red clay pottery, deep green glazes, and the famous black ceramics — each village showcasing its own distinct tradition. In town, cooperatives act as collective shops that bring together and represent the work of local artisans.
Next came Guadalajara — another capital of craft, known for both its glassblowing workshops and the Ceramics of Jalisco. I went there to visit glass suppliers; handblown glass is an ancestral technique in the region. The ceramics, on the other hand, revealed a very different style — not quite my own taste, but an impressive display of patience and precision. Many pieces are meticulously hand-painted with tiny decorative details. I met a family of two brothers who live and work together, crafting pottery day after day. Before I left, they offered me a tortillera woven from palm, which I still keep use at home — a small token of their generosity that carries the warmth of that encounter.
Eventually, I arrived in Puebla, a city celebrated for its artisan culture — from glassmaking to ceramics and an abundance of vintage treasures, often at more accessible prices than in Mexico City. One morning at the market, I found two beautiful ceramic bowls from the 1930s, originally from the Oaxaca region. Later, I visited the Museo Amparo, which I absolutely loved — a space rich with pottery and art from ancestral times, offering a deep and poetic view of Mexico’s artistic heritage. In the museum’s boutique, I came across a collection of plates that immediately caught my attention — clean lines, subtle glazes, and a quiet elegance.
After some research, I learned these plates were made near Tehuacán, a small village in the Puebla region — a more remote place. That’s how I eventually met Gloria and her family, artisans who have been shaping and firing clay for generations. I bought several pieces and brought them home to France.
After trying them for a couple of months, I decided to return and make a few samples together with Gloria and her family. Four months later, I went back, spending a full day in their workshop to understand every step of the process — from kneading the raw clay to the final brushing of glazes before firing.
You can read more about how these plates are made [here].
