Slovenian ceramicists shaping emotion and landscape into bonsai containers.
In Slovenia, ceramicists Matjaž Raimondi and Nastja Legvart shape clay as if carving it from weather and time. Their collaborative studio, Me and Raimondi, produces vessels that read like alpine ridges, river‐worn stone, sun‐bleached earth. These pots don’t simply just hold bonsai, they set the stage for a landscape, grounding the tree in a sense of origin.
In the Mirai sphere, we pay attention to hands that move material with purpose. Matjaž and Nastja are those hands. One leans into slab—planes, edges, architecture. The other refines on the wheel—curve, proportion, balance. Between them emerges a conversation in clay, one voice architectural and angular, the other curved and refined.
When we asked how they describe their approach, they answered simply: “We create by touch—touch that channels emotion, heart, and soul into clay."
“We create by touch.”
That humility and directness show up in every piece.
Like many ceramicists in bonsai, access came through need: if the right container doesn’t exist, we make it. From that beginning, Me and Raimondi studied traditional bonsai forms, not to copy, but to feel the logic in their walls, lips, feet. Once that grammar settled in hand, they began bending it: altering wall planes, softening symmetry, shifting mass. Tradition became launch pad.
Nastja’s wheel work introduces tensioned curves and refined symmetry, perfect for deciduous bonsai where the tree takes the lead.
Matjaž’s Slab Builds introduce geological mass, faces, fractures, lifted corners—perfect for conifers, yamadori, and compositions with exposed live vein or deadwood drama.
Together they create continuity across contrasting forms: a family of containers united by material feel and surface atmosphere.
Me and Raimondi aren’t abandoning bonsai history—they're listening to it. Classical Chinese and Japanese silhouettes are evident, but edges relax, rims dip, wall planes torque just enough to feel discovered. Clay becomes timeless, the expected becomes unexpectedly magical.
“Clay becomes timeless.”
Stand close to one of their pots and the surface begins to read like terrain: kiln blush, oxide freckles, carved seams that recall freeze cracks, slip dragged like scree. These aren’t decorative effects; they’re references to place. When paired well, the container disappears into the story of the tree’s origin.
Perfection isn’t the goal, authentic response is. A slight lift in the wall, a hand-flattened plane, a compression fold at the corner: these irregularities broadcast the maker. That human softness gives their work depth on the bench and warmth in exhibition lighting.
Bonsai evolves when artists push medium. Me and Raimondi take the inherited language of bonsai ceramics and extend it—refining function, amplifying surface, loosening form just enough to let place and touch in. That drive mirrors the work we pursue at Mirai: progress rooted in respect.
When a tree settles into a Me and Raimondi pot, the composition deepens. Clay, touch, and time align—and the bonsai transforms from an object into a living fragment of landscape.
Each container holds the impression of its makers and the landscapes that inspired it. Bonsai, like these containers, is a living collaboration, a dialogue between earth, tree, and artist. When paired with a Me and Raimondi vessel, that dialogue gains depth and resonance, becoming something both timeless and alive.
This is where bonsai transcends tradition. Not because it defies its roots, but because it honors them while inviting us to see the art as part of a larger story—the story of place, of touch, of terrain.
Explore available Me and Raimondi vessels through Mirai Goods.
Dive deeper into their world and craft on our podcast: Inside the World of Me and Raimondi.
