
— the shade a tree builds out of itself.
“A grove of Indian banyans inside Hawaii's first public park, between Waikīkī Beach and the slope of Lēʻahi. King Kalākaua opened the grounds in 1877. The thing about a banyan is that the branches put down roots, and the roots become trunks, and after a century the tree is no longer a tree but a room. The Kapiʻolani specimens are protected under the state's Exceptional Tree Act. People sit under them with thermoses, with strollers, with paperbacks. Nobody hurries through.

Each tile is finished by hand in our Knoxville studio. Artwork is slowly infused into the ceramic surface under high heat and pressure, and rests beneath a thin glossy finish. The colour lives in the surface, not on top of it.
Pick any four 4-inch tiles — National Parks you've been to, a Smokies set, the four seasons of one place. $ for a set of , cork-backed, ready to live on the table.
Each tile ships in a kraft box, tied with cream ribbon, with a handwritten note from the studio if you'd like to add one.
Three or five different vistas, hung together — a chapter of places you've been, or want to go.