— a white steeple set against an October ridge.
“Vermont is village-and-mountain country, and the composition has held for two hundred years: a white wooden steeple at the foreground, a hardwood ridge behind it, a road running between. This piece holds that shape. The village is no village in particular; the ridge could be any rise in the Greens. Together they read as the country itself.
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.
The Green Mountains run the length of Vermont, roughly 250 miles north to south, from the Massachusetts border to the Quebec line. Most of the state's 247 towns hold to a familiar plan: a white-clapboard meetinghouse at the village center, a town green, a covered bridge or two, and a hardwood ridge close enough to walk to. The Northern Forest broadleaf canopy of sugar maple, beech, and yellow birch covers about 76% of the state.
The composition reads differently every six weeks. In late September the ridge behind the steeple turns scarlet and gold for roughly two weeks; in November the leaves drop and the church goes silver against bare grey wood; by January the snow holds the steeple line and the spruce on the upper ridge reads almost black. Sugaring season runs from late February into early April, when sap-house steam rises along the ridge road at dusk.
Vermont villages are quiet in a particular way: a single car on the road every few minutes, a Congregational bell on the hour, the wind moving through the maples behind the church. The composition holds because nothing else competes with it. There are no power lines in the foreground. The ridge does not have a town on it. The eye goes steeple, then ridge, then sky, and rests there.