In the vast, rolling grasslands of the Tibetan Plateau, ceramicist Elise Gettliffe has brought her artistry to Norden Camp, a remote retreat deeply rooted in the ethos and traditions of Norlha — the renowned yak-wool atelier founded to sustain local nomadic culture. Invited to create all the tableware and vases for the camp’s reopening, Gettliffe immersed herself in Ritoma’s striking landscapes and rich spiritual heritage.

Drawing on the muted winter palette of the plateau, the vivid details of monastery architecture, and the sacred Tibetan numbers three, seven, and nine, which guided the proportions of every vessel, Elise’s tableware reflects the beauty of the landscape and natural tones of this very unique region.

Textures echo timeworn stone, inspired by both the surrounding earth and antique ceramics found in the camp’s kitchen, with the natural tones of clay sourced from the region connecting to the environment. A sense of place.

Carved flowers hidden inside bowls and plates, revealed only as a meal is eaten, mirror the plateau’s summer bloom’s and diverse landscape.

Over four months, Gettliffe worked closely with the Norlha and Norden teams, embracing a process shaped by Buddhist values of patience and presence. The resulting collection blends utility and storytelling, embodying the rhythm, history, and beauty of the region — turning each dining experience at Norden Camp into a quiet reflection of place, culture, and connection.

Champ Editorial Director Monique Kawecki speaks to Elise Gettliffe about her creative journey and process in bringing ceramics to life for this extraordinary destination.

You recently made all of the tableware and vases for the reopening of Norden Camp, a wonderful camp on the Tibetan plateau. Can you tell us how this collaboration and invitation came about, and also more about it?

In the remote, rolling grasslands of the Tibetan Plateau’s nomad country, Norlha set out to create an industry from a neglected local commodity, yak wool.

Founded by Kim Yeshi and her daughter Dechen in 2007 Norlha has trained local nomads to process, weave and felt yak wool, a fibre that was previously used for insulation, stuffing and to make tents. Starting from a vision rooted in tradition and craftsmanship, the company has grown into a beautiful and respected brand that create exquisite scarves and clothing. Their dedication to quality and sustainable materials reflects the deep connection to the region’s natural heritage and culture.

About ten years ago, Dechen’s husband Yidam, established Norden Camp, an hour and half from Norlha on the wide Tibetan plateau. A unique destination designed to immerse visitors in the landscape and culture of the area. Over the past year and a half, the camp underwent a thoughtful and extensive renovation to renew and expand its facilities, blending tradition with comfort.

I was honoured to be part of this project, working closely with the team on the reopening of Norden Camp. My role involved creating the tableware that would complement the camp’s atmosphere, helping to bring a sense of place and story to the dining experience. It was a collaborative and inspiring journey, reflecting the spirit of the area and the remarkable landscape it inhabits

I first learned about Norlha through friends who worked there, and my connection to the brand grew when they featured me in a Christmas newsletter highlighting their favourite craftsmen. From then on, I became increasingly interested in their work and began dreaming of visiting them and stay at Norden Camp for an inspiring holiday.

When Norlha was looking for a chef in Ritoma to create a weekly menu for the guesthouse, I recommended a friend, who ended up spending a month there. While she was on site, we stayed in touch, and through her conversations with the team, I learned about the renovation of Norden. This led to discussions about a potential collaboration to produce tableware for the camp.

Last December, while holding an exhibition in Tokyo, I took the opportunity to visit both Norlha and Norden — a happy coincidence that allowed us to meet in person. After spending a week in Ritoma, we agreed that I would return in March for three months to work on the tableware project. In the end, my stay extended to four months, giving us the time to complete the pieces for the newly renovated camp.

How did you approach your concept for the designs of the tableware and vases, including the practical details such as quantities and sizing?

When I arrived in Ritoma in December, the landscape struck me immediately — a vast palette of greys and earthy tones stretching in every direction. Against this almost uniform background, the harmonious colours found in monasteries and local artefacts stood out vividly. This contrast inspired me to weave these elements into my work in a subtle way.

I drew from the environment itself: the dots for example that appears on the top edge of buildings in monasteries but also in the villages and even appear on the belts worn by women over their skirts.

For the texture of the tableware, I wanted an earthy, stony feel — something that could almost be mistaken for an antique shop find. I wasn’t interested in creating brand-new, glossy pieces that would jar against the surroundings. Instead, I wanted the vastness and deep history of this land to be present in every object.

One element of daily life that particularly caught my attention was the prayer wheels in monasteries — endlessly turned by passersby as part of their daily rituals. This repetitive, meditative motion became one motif in my designs. I incorporated fine lines into each ceramic piece so that, when placed side by side, the lines would align, echoing the quiet rhythm of the prayer wheels.

Finally, I turned to Tibetan numerology for sizing. The sacred numbers three, seven, and nine guided all proportions. Nine, in particular, fascinated me: whatever you multiply it by, the digits always add back to nine. It became the only number I allowed myself to double or triple when designing plates or larger vessels — a subtle mathematical tribute to the culture that shaped the work.

After discussions with the creative team, we decided to add a natural, decorative element to the tableware. Rather than using religious motifs — which are already so present in local hotels and spaces — we turned to flowers, a fleeting and magical presence in the region.

Upon the yearly seasonal opening of Norden Camp, the landscape undergoes a complete transformation. The dusty earth of winter gives way to lush grasslands, scattered with vibrant blooms. Around the same time, herders take the yaks and sheep to higher altitudes for pasture, where they remain for four months before returning. I had only witnessed Ritoma in its muted winter palette when I started my collaboration in March but I learned of this sudden shift from locals — and it sparked my imagination. The thought that such a seemingly barren landscape could burst into life with flowers felt almost like a secret, a promise from the land itself.

We wanted to capture that moment of surprise. Drawing from a beautiful book owned by one of the Norlha team members — filled with Tibetan cultural symbols — I selected a few flowers, mainly the lotus. These were carved or stamped into the inside bottom of each vessel.

As a meal was eaten, the flower would gradually reveal itself, mirroring the seasonal transformation of the plateau: bare at first, then suddenly alive with blossoms.

It became a way of weaving the rhythm of this place into the dining experience — an homage to the joy and wonder of seeing the first flowers appear after a long, silent winter.

What was it like sourcing the right clay to use? What type of clay did you find there? Did you have your favourite tools with you?

When I first visited in December, the person in charge of sourcing for Norlha and Norden had already selected several clays based on my requests. Waiting for me in the studio were samples ready to work with. I began by making a small series of cups from each clay so we could see how they behaved after firing. From those results, we chose the colour palette that best matched our vision for the tableware.

Were there any challenges and triumphs in your process of making? For instance, the climate, resources etc.

When I returned in March, I brought some of my own tools but also wanted to work with what was available on site. My greatest challenge — and ultimate triumph — was achieving the texture I had envisioned.

The shapes came naturally, inspired by the antique ceramics in the kitchen of the guest house. But texture is unpredictable.

One evening, I mistakenly applied what I thought was glaze to a batch of samples. After firing overnight, I discovered it was probably something else I applied since I didn’t translated what was written on the bucket. Indeed it was plaster leaving a fragile, powdery white layer. At first, I thought it was a failure. But after washing and sanding the pieces, I realised they had exactly the aged, stony surface I had been seeking, with subtle variations that blended seamlessly with the local stones and the deep red earth of surrounding buildings.

That “happy accident” gave me confidence and allowed me to achieve the desired effect more quickly than I had imagined. Some pieces, when placed next to a stone, almost disappeared into the landscape.

Working in Ritoma shaped not just the work, but the process. In this deeply Buddhist place, there is a calm acceptance — an understanding that you meet each situation as it is and move forward. I had learned this mindset during my early ceramic training in Japan, and here it felt equally, or even more present.

Even samples I initially discarded were reconsidered with the creative team and ultimately included. The production flowed naturally, supported by the generosity and expertise of the Norlha and Norden team.

The finished tableware carries the imprint of this land: its vast winter stillness, its fleeting summer bloom, the rhythm of prayer wheels, the enduring sacred numbers, and the stony textures of earth and time. It is as much a reflection of the plateau’s spirit as it is a set of objects — a quiet companion to the experience of Norden Camp.

What did you learn from the experience and being in Rita?

It’s difficult to fully express the deep impact that living in this remarkable place had on me. Surrounded by wide open nature, quiet roads where horses and animals freely roam, I felt completely immersed in a way of life shaped by deep cultural and spiritual traditions.

The people I met there are profoundly influenced by Buddhist teachings, which are not just ideas but lived values that shape daily behaviour. The concept of karma — the belief that good actions bring positive returns — is at the heart of this community. You can feel it in how people treat each other: with genuine kindness, openness, and a willingness to help. They understand that negativity only creates more negativity, so they strive to act positively in every moment.

Being surrounded by this energy and belief creates a sense of peace and security unlike anything I had experienced before. There is a purity in the way they live and relate to the world — a mindfulness and compassion that feel both humbling and inspiring.

This time and place touched me deeply. It was more than just a physical environment; it was a space where the spirit feels nourished and calm. The experience continues to influence me, reminding me of the power of kindness, the importance of presence, and the interconnectedness that binds us all.