
Potter · Class
Shunzan Gama
Sit at a spinning wheel with a third-generation Kyoto potter and shape your own cup or bowl, which the kiln then fires and ships to your home.
Kyoto, Japan
Explore the craftMake a little time for
18 real places across 18 crafts. Classes, workshops and people worth meeting.
See every place in Kyoto →A few places to begin

Potter · Class
Sit at a spinning wheel with a third-generation Kyoto potter and shape your own cup or bowl, which the kiln then fires and ships to your home.
Kyoto, Japan
Explore the craft
Weaver · Workshop
Cross silk warp and weft on a traditional loom to weave a small cloth of your own, then step inside a working Nishijin obi studio weaving since 1907.
Kyoto, Japan
Explore the craft
Tailor · Workshop
Brush layered color through hand-cut stencils to dye your own scarf or tote using the centuries-old Kyo-Yuzen method in a 1908 townhouse workshop.
Kyoto, Japan
Explore the craftPhotographs show the crafts. They are not portraits of the listed studios.
A wheel, some mud, a teacher's hands over yours. Two hours where your phone doesn't matter.
Thread by thread, on a loom older than the machine age, a person makes cloth mean something.
Cloth cut to the person, not the person to the cloth.
In a world of fonts, a person still moves a wet nib and means every stroke.
Precision you can taste. A gram off and the whole thing falls.
The person who tastes the whole cellar so your table does not have to guess.
The corners you trust with your home.
Fire, hammer, and a person who can feel, through the steel, the moment it is ready.
A person deciding, handful by handful, what a lump of clay is going to become.
A person building a memory out of scent, one drop at a time, from a palette of a thousand smells.
A hot kitchen, twelve tickets, a plate that tastes like a place.
Someone who translates what you couldn't say into stems and color.
Ink, a screen, a steady pull, and one image becomes a hundred, each pressed by hand.
Someone who thinks in seasons and kneels to work in one.
A vat of leaves and time, a length of white cloth, and hands that coax living colour out of the garden.
A papermaker lifts a screen from the vat and pulls a fresh sheet out of water and fiber.
No retakes, no edits. Just a person, a room, and tonight only.
A block of wood, a sharp tool, and a person patient enough to find the shape inside it.
Elsewhere in the atlas