For the table.
A bowl that earns a place in the rotation. A salt by the spoon. Coffee for the morning.
First arrivals, the story of the shop, and an invitation to the opening — no clutter, unsubscribe in a single click.
The inside; one’s home; the people and the things kept within. The shop is named for it.
A small, carefully curated shop in Ashland, Oregon — a room built for community as much as for objects.
tk uchi. is a small shop Nina and I are opening in Ashland, Oregon — a room of objects for the home, conscientiously curated, in alignment with the community we live in. It is something we have long talked about over kitchen tables and on long walks.
We are not trying to compete with the larger stores, or with the internet. We are making a smaller room — a place to walk into slowly, to handle a thing made by a person whose name we can tell you, to sit with a book, to talk to a neighbor.
Every object on the shelf has been chosen for a reason we can say out loud. Where we can, we work with makers in Southern Oregon and the broader Pacific Northwest. Where the right thing comes from further away — a scent from Iceland that journeys like the weather, or an objet d’art from Japan that is simply pure and beautiful — we have looked carefully at how it is made, and by whom.
The shop is named for the Japanese word uchi: the inside of a home, and the people kept in it. Everything here is chosen with that room in mind — and with the larger room of Ashland, our neighborhood, the families who walk past on their way to the park.
— Traci Keen, proprietor.
Ashland, Oregon.
A short list, refreshed slowly and updated frequently — moving through the seasons of life and time.
Named makers with a story behind the brand. Life is storytelling — and so is our shop.
We buy for the table you eat at, the chair you sit in. Not the photograph of the room — the room itself.
One door. Perspective and point of view are the lens; the discipline is the point — and the welcome.
A short list, chosen for the room itself — not the room as it appears.
A short list of objects for the home — things to set on a table, to hold in a hand, to keep in a small bathroom or beside a bed. Chosen for the everyday, not the photograph.
A bowl that earns a place in the rotation. A salt by the spoon. Coffee for the morning.
A bar of soap, a balm for chapped hands, a brush that hangs by the sink.
A candle, a length of linen, a small ceramic object that quietly changes the air.
A notebook to keep close. A pen worth refilling. The Book of the Month, face-out.
A short list of houses, each one a name we can stand behind.
Every maker here is one we can point to — a person or a small studio, a material we can explain, a thing built to be kept. A few come from down the road; others from Japan, Iceland, the south of France. What they share is that someone we can name made them, and made them to last.
Our own — new items thoughtfully added.
Hand-poured candles and incense, made in California.
Scent and incense from the Icelandic studio.
Japanese tableware and pour-over for the kitchen.
Seaweed-based skincare from the California coast.
California deck shoes and sneakers, since 1964.
Whole-bean coffee, roasted in small batches.
French notebooks and pads for the desk.
Undyed, transparently-made everyday clothing.
California olive oil and skincare.
Wheel-thrown stoneware from a small studio.
Botanical specimens set in clear acrylic, from Japan.
Hand-printed letterpress cards and stationery, made in Oregon.
Family-owned Arizona eyewear in premium acetate; every order helps an animal in need.
Wood-framed eyewear, made in Portland.
Limited-edition prints from artists in and around Ashland.
Every maker is chosen for a perspective, a point of view, and an origination story we can stand behind. We feature them, one at a time, in the newsletter — the story behind the shelf.