By Elena Filini

Tiny workshops where medieval bookbinding is reborn, studios where ceramics are shaped from ancient clays, and spaces where wildflowers become scented bouquets and natural decorations. Age-old techniques and craftsmanship meet upcycling, yielding one-of-a-kind items. All strictly handmade—far beyond clichés.
The hills of Conegliano and Valdobbiadene offer a hidden geography of artisans and creatives, almost folded into the landscape. A world of art and quality craft, far removed from the sameness of global brands, where you’ll stumble across unexpected shopping experiences and fascinating personal stories.

Ancient clays, modern methods: Sara’s story

There’s violet clay, and then there’s blue. Soils that, when fired, release surprising colours and tones. They’d been lying there for millennia—just waiting to be found and fired at high temperatures to become ceramics that are both unique and precious.

Born in Vittorio Veneto at the foot of the Prealps, between a riverbank and a house made of stone, and trained at Venice’s Academy of Fine Arts, Sara Dall’Antonia (www.saradallantoniaceramista.com) discovered a passion for ceramics thanks to the Scomigo small potters’ association, which she now heads.
“I love heading out across fields and forests to discover clay—nature’s most precious material. I use it to make unique ceramics rooted in local geology and the shape of the land. Each soil is different. You have to sample and catalogue it at different firing temperatures because wild clay doesn’t come with a label.”

Her research began during Covid lockdowns. She’d hike the woods with a backpack, testing the earth with her fingers. If it stuck, she could feel its potential. Firing changed everything: the colour, the texture. That’s how she discovered these ancient, shimmering clays—and began turning them into bowls, plates, mugs and vessels.

Floral theatre

In Soller, a hamlet of Cison di Valmarino, Margherita Dalle Ceste (www.daisystudio.it) grows daffodils, tulips, hyacinths, roses, sunflowers and amaranth—transforming them into centrepieces, displays and even floral stage sets.
“I specialise in sustainable, natural flower design. I use the flowers I grow and materials from my surroundings.”
In her Cison studio, she runs workshops that alternate with time in the field. “Growing flowers has always been a passion. I studied botany and agroecology and now I try to express all that knowledge through my designs.”

Daisy Studio reflects a growing interest in environmentally conscious floristry—a kind that’s gentle, sustainable, and deeply rooted in the rhythms of nature. Her bouquets and garlands include not just wildflowers, but nostalgic blooms too.
“I love to plant and revive the flowers our grandmothers once loved—zinnias, gladioli, lunaria, lilies. They carry memories.”

From the bouquinistes of the Seine to book covers

Giuseppe De Santis (giuseppe.bookbinder) likes to dress in clothes reminiscent of Marco Polo’s time. For him, the Middle Ages weren’t dark at all—they marked the dawn of writing as a means to preserve memory and culture.
He’s always been a bookbinder, crafting notebooks and fragile, beautiful objects from a medley of materials, all guided by one principle: the beauty of reuse.

“I learned the craft in a workshop. For years I worked in Venice, mastering the technique of papier-mâché masks. Now I make notebooks, albums and books, all bound by hand with unusual materials.”
These range from Nepalese newspaper sheets to hemp bedlinen found at a bouquiniste along the Seine, old music scores, and the paper sleeves from vintage records. “I try to create something new from the old.”

Born in the heart of Treviso, in the Pescheria district, De Santis now lives in Revine Lago, where he invented a board game called la rana di Lago, showcased at medieval fairs and reenactments. “It’s like a backwards version of snakes and ladders—whoever arrives last wins.” A celebration of the slow life, joyfully lived among the stone houses of Lago.

The beauty of imperfections: loquats and cherries reborn

Wood—and the life it once held. The flaws of a cherry tree, a loquat. Garden shrubs, felled forest trees destined to become firewood. In Valdobbiadene, Anonima Torniture (Anonima torniture) takes a spartan and self-reliant approach.
They work with woods that furniture makers reject, and they never cut trees just for wood. Because nature already offers plenty of timber—perfect for creating beautiful, original things.
They shape vases, then plates and trays, lampshades, mirrors, stools, and small tables from hill-grown plants. All made from leftover material, given a second life in line with a deep environmental ethic.

“We love anything imperfect,” say Matteo Cattafesta and Samuele Pierasco. “Wild plums, apple and apricot trees—they all have veining that’s worth discovering.” And once touched by Anonima Torniture, these woods become handcrafted, one-of-a-kind pieces. Because beauty, too, evolves.