Chapter one
Amelia Auckland was Martha's great-grandmother. She was born in England and emigrated as a young woman to New Zealand, where she married and settled in Auckland. She spent forty years painting glass in a workshop far too small for all that light.
She made stained glass windows for local churches, and at the end of each day, she'd stay working on pieces that were hers alone: lamps, small animals in coloured glass, things made with no order to fill and no rush to finish.
When she passed away, she left behind two boxes. One held her moulds, her tools, and her sketchbooks. The other held six cut-crystal whisky glasses and a decanter — the set her husband used every Sunday, which she never let anyone put away.
We named it Amelia Auckland Living because that's literally where it all comes from: her name, the city where she built her life, and the idea that a home is made of objects worth looking at, not just using.
Both boxes arrived at our home on the same day. It was the first time we realised that what each of us loved, separately, had already been together long before we were.
We're Martha and Henry.
Glass, light & lamps
Martha learned to cut glass from her mother, who learned from Amelia. She spent years working in a brick-walled studio, making lamps and later animals — owls, cats, dogs — because she always believed light should have personality, not just function.
She's the one who decides whether a piece has soul or is just pretty. They're not the same thing, and she can tell the difference in three seconds.
Decanters, glasses & ritual
Henry grew up among his grandfather's tools, in a workshop where wood was worked slowly and where you learned that good things take time. That's where he discovered whisky — not as a drink, but as a ritual. The right glass. The afternoon light passing through the liquid. The conversation that stretches on without anyone watching the clock.
Today, he's the one who chooses every decanter and every glass that makes it into our catalogue, and he still picks up each piece with both hands before saying yes.
For years, it was just a shared passion. He collected bottles and glasses worth displaying. She filled the house with lamps that friends never wanted to give back after borrowing them for a party.
And it was always the same question, whenever someone visited: “where do you two find this stuff?”
The answer was the hard part. Pieces with character — the kind that make a room stop and look — are scattered across small makers, hidden workshops, and catalogues nobody knows about. Finding them takes work. Choosing well takes more.
We opened Amelia Auckland Living to do that work for you. Two trained eyes looking for the same thing in different materials: glass that holds the light.
We don't sell everything. We sell what we'd want in our own home — and, honestly, most of our catalogue has already lived there first.
A whisky glass isn't just a container. The weight, the clarity and the shape change the way a pour feels in your hand.
Set one on a shelf and the shelf stops being storage. It becomes something people look at, and ask about.
A lamp doesn't only make a room brighter. It decides how the room feels once the sun has gone.
A coloured glass owl glowing in a corner changes how it feels to be in that house. That's the kind of piece we look for.
Whether you're here looking for a gift, a piece for yourself, or just something beautiful to look at, we hope you find it. And if you ever open a bottle by the light of one of our lamps, pour a glass for us — and for Amelia.
— Martha & Henry
Explore the collection