Many studios work in stoneware—it’s the great workhorse of ceramics and, for good reason, the industry standard. Stoneware can be soft and silky or heavily grogged and sandy. It’s strong, forgiving, and expressive, ranging from warm reds and browns to speckled, earthy surfaces. I’ve always enjoyed stoneware and own many pieces myself. Some of the most beautiful pots I’ve ever held are stoneware. The range is vast, and the material has a deep, democratic soul.
But at Channel House, we specialize in porcelain.
Porcelain’s strength and its pure white, glass-like surface feel otherworldly to me. Many studios steer clear of it—porcelain is a diva. She’s expensive, often two to three times the cost of stoneware, and as temperamental as The Princess and the Pea. She’s less forgiving for newer potters and prone to cracking, warping, and slumping at nearly every stage if you’re not paying attention.
And yet—she’s also the beauty queen of clays.
Porcelain is remarkably refined: clean, all-natural, and composed of very few ingredients. Unlike many stonewares, it contains no added fillers like ball clay. It’s smooth, flawless, and when thrown thin, famously translucent. That translucency isn’t just visual poetry—it’s a sign of porcelain’s unique structure. When fired, porcelain vitrifies almost completely, transforming from mineral to something closer to glass. Think sand becoming crystal. This is what makes porcelain the hardest, densest clay body of them all, and why it has been our preferred material for dinnerware and tiles. It’s the traditional “china,” without bone ash—timeless, durable, and quietly extraordinary.
If you’re a pottery geek, you may notice my last name is Stafford. Historically, Staffordshire, England was the epicenter of ceramic innovation during the Industrial Revolution—home to the studios that defined fine porcelain and tableware for the world. You could say an obsession with porcelain runs in my lineage. Whatever the opposite of inherited trauma is, this might be it. I threw my first porcelain pot at nine years old and immediately understood it. Like a bird dog locking into a point, it felt instinctive—familiar, precise, and inevitable.
I choose to work exclusively in porcelain for these reasons.
At Channel House, we aim to make future heirlooms—objects that respect history while living fully in the present. Porcelain demands patience, discipline, and reverence, but it rewards you with longevity. Our dinnerware and tiles are made to endure daily life and outlast generations. This is our way of honoring tradition, material intelligence, and the quiet ritual of the table—keeping an ancient craft alive, one piece at a time.
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