Schaedler Ceramics Studio

February 26, 2026 - “You can’t buy history. Either you have it, or you don’t. Or you neglect it.”

Philipp Eigenmann utters this sentence calmly, almost casually. And yet these words encapsulate everything that shapes his life, his work, and this place. For him, history is neither a quick look back nor a mere embellishment. It is something that has evolved, something that has been lived. Sometimes it is romantic, but often—and above all—it is a sense of responsibility. And it is always a stance.

Anyone who steps into the Schaedler Ceramics Workshop in Nendeln feels it immediately. Here, history isn’t merely on display—it’s being written anew. In the workshops, in the kilns, in the clay that has come from the same landscape for centuries. And in a family business that has been in operation since 1836 and remains in the hands of the same family line to this day.

Philipp Eigenmann is a ceramist. But in reality, he is much more than that. He is both a preserver and a creator, a doer with a sense of humor, a person who is deeply rooted in tradition yet looks to the future with curiosity. He is someone who is convinced that craftsmanship has a future only if it brings meaning to people, to the place, and to the community.

The history of the Schaedler Ceramics Workshop dates back to 1836. At that time, his great-great-grandfather, Philipp Albert Schädler, took the plunge into self-employment and began manufacturing stove tiles. At that time, Nendeln was a center for ceramics. Right across the street was the Princely Brickworks, where plain tiles were produced, and the famous ring kiln shaped the landscape. For millions of years, the Rhine had supplied the raw material—clay—offering short transport routes and ideal conditions. It is therefore no coincidence that a ceramic tradition developed here.

At first, his great-great-grandfather and great-grandfather produced only stove tiles. But as technology advanced, the market changed. Oil and gas heating systems became popular, and demand for tiled stoves declined. Philipp Eigenmann’s grandfather, Eugen Schädler, responded by charting a new course. He started a pottery business and hired German potters and ceramic painters. At the time, this was still a traditionally male-dominated profession. At the same time, he gave young people from Liechtenstein the opportunity to complete an apprenticeship. Knowledge was passed down, and the craft remained alive.

Family history and company history are inextricably linked. Philipp Eigenmann talks about his mother, Emma, the first woman to serve in the Liechtenstein Parliament, and about his father, a native of St. Gallen who joined Keramik Schaedler as a sales representative and stayed on. “That’s why we’re called Eigenmann today,” he says with a laugh. But the roots run deep in Liechtenstein.

After World War II, the industry underwent another transformation. Mass production of tableware made it difficult for small businesses to compete on price. Then came the oil crisis, car-free Sundays, and austerity measures. And suddenly the realization: wood is right on our doorstep. Tiled stoves experienced a renaissance starting in 1979. Demand was enormous until the mid-1990s. But this trend didn’t last forever either. Soapstone stoves, metal stoves, new heating systems. Once again, the industry had to reinvent itself.

And then, in 1992, a man walked into the workshop. “Back then, he seemed old to me,” says Philipp Eigenmann with a laugh. “Today I know: he was probably 45. The man had a somewhat mysterious air about him and asked a seemingly harmless question: ‘Can you make a pot?’” He was looking for an urn, a human urn.
What initially seemed unusual developed into a new, important pillar of the business. Through contacts with crematoriums, urn production gradually took shape. First for humans, later primarily for animals. Today we mainly produce pet urns. “Cats and dogs have become family members. People want to show them dignity and love even beyond death.”
This empathy is palpable. It is present in every form, in the colors, in the glaze, in the care taken with every single piece. Much of the knowledge that has long since been lost in numerous ceramic workshops has been preserved in the physical and documentary archives of the Keramik Werkstatt Schaedler.

Shapes, colors, materials. A body of knowledge built up over generations that is indispensable for the production of ceramic replacement parts and for restoration work. The workshop’s collections are a veritable treasure trove for specialists. In addition to classic pieces such as cookware, baking dishes, servingware, and storage containers, the collection also includes, upon request, floor tiles, wall tiles, roof tiles, and, of course, stove tiles.

Culture Between the Kiln and the Stage

Anyone who steps into the production facility quickly realizes: this is no ordinary factory. It is a vibrant place where people work, think, discuss, make music, and play.

Philipp Eigenmann loves culture, history, theater, and music. Even as a high school student, he deliberately chose history as one of his subjects for his final exams. His teacher, Rupert Quaderer, was delighted at the time that at least one of the graduating students had chosen it. That appreciation left a lasting impression. “That’s why I’m also involved with the Hagenhaus Foundation. The building we’re in today was built in 1835; the neighboring Hagenhaus in 1837—around the same time. Incidentally, Peter Kaiser, the educator, historian, and politician, was also alive at that time. My great-great-grandfather was a contemporary of his. All of this is valuable, exciting, and motivating to me.”

Perhaps it is precisely this openness that led the workshop to become a cultural hub. “Georg Rootering called me once; he wanted to have a TAK mug designed, a small edition for subscribers. That’s how we met. The artist Sandra Rossi modeled sculptures and had them fired at our facility. One day, her husband Florin Frick stopped by to pick up the pieces. These conversations sparked new ideas—ideas that led to theater and ultimately back to director Georg Rootering.

The kiln hall became a stage. Amid the kilns, clay, and tools, Homer’s voice rang out. “The Wrath of Achilles”—archaic, intense, haunting. The audience was enthralled.

The second project was deliberately chosen to provide a contrast: “Krach im Hause Gott” by Felix Mitterer. Quirky, irreverent, and profound. The actors stood on the kilns. Amidst crosses, ceramics, and fire, a perspective on divine family conflicts unfolded that was as humorous as it was thought-provoking. Laughter and reflection went hand in hand.

“Culture is allowed to surprise,” says Philipp Eigenmann. “It’s allowed to be thought-provoking, and it’s allowed to be fun.” More projects are already in the works. They’re still under wraps, but one thing is certain: it’s going to be something special again.

Philipp Eigenmann laughs. “To sum it up: family, workshop, theater, culture, restaurants, art school, music academy in Liechtenstein… the only thing missing is the suspension bridge… we’re still working on that!”

Coffee, Family, and the Meaning of Life

Another project close to my heart is the Ceramics Café. The idea originated in Finland, where I worked as a ceramist for two years. I would drive for hours through forests and small villages, and suddenly there it was—a ceramics studio with a café, right in the middle of nowhere. You could watch the production process and have a cup of coffee. That image has stayed with me ever since.

Back in Liechtenstein, the time wasn’t right yet. Back then, no one came. It wasn’t until many years later, after passing the restaurant manager’s exam, that the café became a reality. Today, it’s a gathering place, a space for reflection, and a place for conversation. There’s a Steinway grand piano here that found its way into the workshop through a story of one Philip to another. Music evenings are planned, and conversations are a given.

I run the company together with my wife Ulrike, who supports me in everything. I come up with the ideas—she puts them into action. It makes me smile. Because Ulrike helped me start a family in a very special way: A colleague of mine, a man from Nendeln, married a family helper back then. He said to me, “Philipp, a family helper will help you start a family.” And that’s exactly how it was for me. Ulrike was also a family helper and helped me start our family. Together we have four daughters, just like my grandfather once did. Three have graduated from high school, and two of them went on to college (physics and biology). The youngest is an optician. And it’s becoming clear: two of them want to follow in our footsteps. Annina, the oldest, is already working in the business; as a physicist, she brings new perspectives. The third, Katharina, a successful skeleton racer, has decided: when her athletic career ends, she’ll return.”

So why keep going?
“Because I want to use my contribution to make my immediate surroundings more livable and beautiful—at work, with my family, and in my hobbies.”

I ask myself a question that is rarely asked: Does it pay off?
If we judge everything solely by its return on investment, we lose an incredible amount. I’m thinking of music, theater, and commitment. You can’t make a living from applause, but it’s priceless.»

A product from Liechtenstein – with a face

Since 2023, the Schaedler Ceramics Workshop has been a proud brand partner of Liechtenstein Marketing and holds the “Product of Liechtenstein” certification. The partnership began with the Experience Pass. Visitors came, received a mug, watched, and experienced the craft firsthand.

Then came an invitation to appear on the German TV show “Wunderschön.” It was last-minute, spontaneous, and authentic. The result: a huge response. “People approach me when I’m abroad,” says Philipp Eigenmann. “Aren’t you the one from the show?” He smiles. “It’s a real pleasure.”

Liechtenstein Marketing gives a face to what is created here. It shows that craftsmanship, culture, and history are not relics—but a living part of the present.

“It’s like applause—you can’t buy it, but it comes back.”

And perhaps that is precisely the essence of this story:
History lives on; it lives wherever people take it seriously, pass it on, and rethink it. In Nendeln, at the Schaedler Ceramics Workshop, and with the Eigenmann family.