The alchemy of making: Ilona Topolcsanyi’s The Good Plate.

Every ceramic begins as a lump of earth. Forms are considered by hand and eye, refined through repetition and years of practice. Surfaces are tested and glazes developed over countless rounds of trial, error and experimentation.

Then, eventually, every piece arrives at the same moment: the kiln door closes and the potter relinquishes control. Heat, atmosphere, chemistry and chance begin their work. Elements react, silica melts and colours transform. Clay metamorphoses into stone, becoming something entirely new.

Perhaps it’s the “both-and” quality of ceramics that makes it so magnetic. It lives in the space between apparent opposites: part artistry, part chemistry. Precision and surrender. Discipline and abandon. The delicacy of the maker’s hand meeting the intensity of the kiln. For all the planning and logic involved, every firing is also an act of faith and proof of magic.

For Melbourne ceramic artist Ilona Topolcsanyi, this dual nature of ceramics has always been central to her practice. While trained in fine art and familiar with the language of conceptual sculpture, her fascination lies in objects that inhabit the space between art and everyday life—pieces designed not only to be admired, but to be held, used and shared.

This year, we were delighted to acquire a collection from her Australian-made tableware range, The Good Plate, produced just around the corner from our Abbotsford office at Melbourne Clay in the Abbotsford Convent precinct.

Infusing handmade ceramics into the everyday rituals of our workplace is a quiet reminder that the most meaningful work—whether in clay, business or life—takes shape when careful preparation and technical mastery leave room for curiosity, serendipity and human connection.

A community where craft is shared.

Beyond the marks of the maker’s hand, every piece in The Good Plate range carries the imprint of the community from which it emerged. And helping Ilona’s work find a place at Kearney Group carries a personal connection.

Long before The Good Plate, I had the privilege of learning at Melbourne Clay under the guidance of Ilona, Colin Hopkins, Kevin Boyd, Sophie Moran and the extraordinary makers there.

Walking into Melbourne Clay, you quickly realise it’s much more than a production studio. It’s a culture of generosity and a community built around the belief that knowledge grows when it is freely shared.

Established as a centre for small to medium-scale ceramic production, professional development and training, Melbourne Clay brings makers and designers together to experiment, collaborate and refine their craft. 

Here, curiosity is encouraged. Breakage is expected. Mastery is understood to be a lifelong practice, not a final destination. 

It’s as much about people as pottery. Conversations move easily between benches. Ideas are tested collectively. Technical rigour sits comfortably alongside free experimentation. Everyone, regardless of experience, is both teacher and student.

For Ilona, this exchange of knowledge is central to a healthy studio—and to the artform of ceramics itself.

She describes craft as a staircase, built by the people who came before. Every maker climbs using the knowledge, techniques and discoveries passed down by others. But reaching the top of the staircase comes with a responsibility: to add another step for those who follow.

“You can’t be the last tread in the staircase,” she explains.

What we shape, shapes us.

Perhaps this is why handmade ceramics have captivated us for thousands of years.

Clay remembers every touch and every decision leaves a trace. The material asks us to pay attention, to adapt, to embrace uncertainty and to accept that perfection is neither possible, nor particularly interesting.

Life has a habit of asking these same things of us.

The pursuit of mastery reminds us that our role is not to control every outcome, but to create the conditions in which something enduring can emerge.

For Ilona, ceramics is a constant lesson in letting go. In accepting failure as an inevitable part of the craft, joy is found in the process of discovery, not only in the finished piece.

“The artists I love most are the ones who never stop asking questions,” Ilona says. “They are always exploring.”

That’s perhaps why, even in the hustle of a corporate office, Ilona’s work feels right at home. After all, good advice, like good craft, is ultimately more about exploration and stewardship than it is about certainty.

Gathering around the table.

There is one final lesson hidden inside The Good Plate: the collection was never really about plates.

It was always about people. About creating vessels around which we imperfect humans can gather in conversation, celebration and belonging. These pieces were created not simply to hold food and drink, but to hold space for the everyday rituals that bind us and the moments that become memories.

Our collection of ‘good plates’ does not sit behind glass waiting for special occasions. They’re woven into the daily rhythms of our workplace, quiet witnesses to the many decisions, milestones and transitions, both big and small, that unfold around them.

While Ilona’s work as maker is complete, our good plates remain beautifully unfinished, ready to be shaped by the hands that hold them, the people who gather around them, and the moments they help create.