Kkachi defines craftsmanship as “beauty with purpose.” We believe there is a certain indescribable power that can only exist in objects made by hand.
Sometimes, we find ourselves watching videos of manufacturing processes on YouTube — videos without narration, filled only with the sounds of the workshop and the making itself. Strangely enough, after witnessing how something is made, even a mass-produced object begins to feel personal and cherished.
We believe it matters to know how things are made, and who makes them. Would it sound too serious to say that consumption also carries responsibility? Looking at objects we bought but rarely use, we sometimes wonder if truly caring for the environment begins with choosing things we can use for a very long time.
And of course, there’s one belief we always return to: using an object until the very end of its lifespan.
This was the very first proposal we sent to artist Mumuyo in 2020 when commissioning the teapot. Scribbled on the back of scrap office paper, Kkachi — with absolutely no talent for drawing — tried somehow to convey the shape of the teapot we had imagined in our minds.
Looking back now, the proportions are completely unrealistic — the thickness of the spout, the shape of the handle, all of it. The first version was made in buncheong ware, but from the second production onward, we transitioned to white porcelain, which has continued to this day.
The teapot on the far left was the very first sample the artist created after seeing our wonderfully imperfect proposal. Little by little, its form began to take shape, eventually evolving into the white porcelain teapot shown on the far right.
To this day, that teapot still sits on the desk and is used every morning. Through years of making samples, using them daily, and refining small details over time, it gradually became the white porcelain teapot it is today.
The first sample teapot the artist created followed the original sketch closely — modest and rounded, almost like a steamed bun. But there was one problem: when pouring tea, water would leak from around the lid. (Kkachi likes to describe this as “sweating from the forehead.”)
Over time, the shape evolved into a rounder, fuller form with a gently protruding body, improving the pouring experience and reducing leakage.
Though small in size, this teapot went through countless refinements. We believed that even the slightest inconvenience had to be resolved for it to become a truly useful object. That is how the teapot Kkachi loves so dearly came to be.
And yet, I still use the old sample from years ago. After four years together, I’ve simply grown too attached to it. Perhaps that is the charm of handcrafted objects — the more you use them, the more impossible they become not to love.