In May, we presented Weightless at Cromwell Place in South Kensington. The exhibition showcased the works of eight established and emerging international artists from Japan, Sweden, Italy, the US and UK: Emelie Abrahamsson, Craig Bamford, Marco Bellini, Krista Mezzadri, Gaku Nakane, Koichi Onozawa, Hideo Sawada and Maiko Tsutsumi. Uniting these artists’ diverse array of disciplines is a pervading delicate appreciation and intimate understanding of their mediums, enabling them to mould solid materials such as clay, wood and metal into light, flowing forms - emanating a sense of weightlessness.
SEIJAKU / STILLNESS
23rd June - 8th July
We celebrated emerging contemporary artists and craftspeople from Japan in summer with the exhibition Seijaku / Stillness, featuring works by Yoko Ozawa, Kouzo Takeuchi, Shun Kumagai, Aki Sakaida, Motomu Oyama, Yasuhide Ono, Hatano Wataru, Tetsuya Ozawa, Mizuyo Yamashita and Takada Kae. These artists transform traditional Japanese aesthetics, values, techniques, and materials in unique and experimental ways. Their works strike the balance between bold and powerful forms whilst exuding a sense of calm and embodying the idea of seijaku.
OF WATER
2nd - 18th November 2023
In November, we turned to four distinguished artists based in the UK: Celia Dowson, Chloé Rosetta Bell, Felicity Keefe and Craig Bamford, for ‘Of Water’, an exhibition showcasing the profound influence of water – its ceaseless ebb and flow. Water, in all its forms and moods, has long been a source of artistic inspiration. ‘Of Water’ aspires to connect these artist’s diverse disciplines, from ceramics to glass, paintings and metalwork, to this elemental theme.
Beyond showcasing new artists in our exhibitions, Maud & Mabel also had the pleasure of introducing special collections by new artists...
STEVE SMITH
Steve Smith is a ceramic artist working from his home studio in the Scottish Borders. His current practice focuses on smoke-firing in a saggar using raw materials foraged from the wild hills around his home. Steve also uses a wide array of other materials, including wire wool, oxides and salts. The resulting pieces, a fusion of old techniques with modern design, are both serene and dramatic.
EMI SUZUKI
Emi Suzuki (b.1984) is a Japanese artist based in Kanagawa and Shizuoka. Suzuki primarily uses hand-collected soil to produce abstract works, with the belief that the tactile process of sourcing her materials to be ‘pure and powerful’. Her mud paintings are spread and polished using a technique influenced by traditional Japanese plastering techniques – the effects are a mirroring of nature.
YOUYOU WANG
Youyou Wang is an emerging ceramic artist who graduated from Central Saint Martins. Wang's teapots are made to encapsulate the everyday and the simple moments in utilitarian function. With their understated elegance, each unique teapot features a harmonious merging of elements: wide and petite bodies, small and delicate spouts. The interplay of these contrasts create a visual balance that is at once soothing and engaging.
LOUISA GREY
FELICITY KEEFE & CRAIG BAMFORD
CELIA DOWSON & CHLOÉ ROSETTA BELL
YOUYOU WANG
Building on the successful events this year, Maud & Mabel has an exciting line-up of exhibitions for 2024, here is a preview of our first two shows for the next year...
BUILT
18th January - 4th February 2024
Built is a celebration of the art of hand-crafted works and processes. This showcase is an ode to the meticulous and intricate art of hand-building ceramics, featuring a remarkable lineup of artists who have mastered this unique craft to create singular forms.
COLLECT 2024
We will be participating in Collect 2024, showcasing an array of artists, materials and techniques that exemplify the aesthetic value and fine craftsmanship at the core of Maud & Mabel.
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]]>Youyou Wang is an emerging ceramic artist who graduated from Ceramic Design in Central Saint Martins (2022). Wang creates unique, handmade works with a signature blend of form and function. In her hands, these vessels transcend their utilitarian roots, becoming works of art to be savored and admired. Wang’s teapots, coated in soft whites, sandy browns and deep blacks, stand as eloquent examples of less being more.
Wang's teapots draws inspiration from the design and forms of small and rounded Zisha clay teapots from the Yixing region, which are highly regarded in China and form an essential part of its tea-drinking culture. One of the unique properties of the red Zisha clay specific from Yixing is that they become more glossy with repeated use as the tea infuses the material, capturing time and personal history. Similarly, Wang's teapots are made to encapsulate the everyday and the simple moments in utilitarian function.
With their understated elegance, each unique teapot of Wang’s features a harmonious merging of elements; wide and petite bodies, small and delicate spouts. The wide bodies of her teapots are gentle and soft, their elegant curves evoking a sense of tranquility. The small spouts, subtle and refined, provide a counterpoint to the generous bodies. This juxtaposition of wide and small dimensions imbues her work with a sense of balance and grace. The interplay of these contrasting forms is where Wang’s work shines, creating visual harmony that is at once soothing and engaging.
In Wang’s works, simplicity and serenity is the key to beauty, and her work exemplifies this philosophy, offering an impression of a world where art and functionality seamlessly intertwine. As an emerging artist, her exploration of form is an exciting journey, and it is clear that she has already established a unique and captivating aesthetic.
Q: What formal and conception elements are you interested in exploring through your work?
My main focus now is to make teapots, but I'm still in the beginning stages – this is important since I don't intent to incorporate overly conceptual elements into my work at this point. Right now, it's more about learning through the process of making. That being said, my personality is entrenched in this process of creation and is reflected through my work.
My goal is not to make something new; I want to start with the basics of creating objects of a good standard, and then refining it to make beautiful. Teapots are rather complicated forms. A handmade teapot consists of several parts: the body, lid, knob, handle and spout. A well-designed piece, in terms of functionality and ease of use, can be achieved through experience and experimentation, while its aesthetic beauty derives from its formal proportions.
There are two components to my understanding of beauty: balance and imbalance. What is considered aesthetically balanced is dependent on subjective judgement, while asymmetry and imbalance adds to the character and uniqueness of a piece. I hope to create works that contain a playful, endearing novelty. In this pursuit, I remain dedicated to finding the balance within imbalance – ultimately, balance is key to creating harmony.
Beyond this formal proportioning, I want to embed a whimsical quality in my work: each small teapot I make is unique and distinct. I assume the local market in the UK might not use the small teapots on a daily basis, so I wanted to my work to be enjoyable for its audience. Making quirky works adds joy to my production process.
My teapots mimic mundane objects from everyday life, such as produce, a long-standing exploration in my practice. Instead of following the form of an object, I am more interested in capturing one's specific memory of it. In my subconscious creation of forms, such as a pouting spout, I realised that I emulate existing shapes drawn from my personal memory and associations. This is also why descriptions of my works vary: someone described the swirls created by my fingers as ‘bandages’; a round flat teapot with a sinking lid was referred to as a 'doughnut' or 'dried persimmon' according to the viewer's cultural background. I really enjoy seeing the trigger of memories through my creation.
Q: Your work is really diverse, could you tell us about how you go about making a work? Do you conceive of the form and colour before you begin, perhaps with sketches?
I rarely sketch to conceptualize a piece; I let everything happen naturally and intuitively in the process of creation.
Although it has been six years since I started studying ceramics at Central Saint Martins, London, in 2018, I am still rather new to teapot-making. It wasn't until last November that I made my first teapot. Before then, I watched countless videos of teapot making and accumulated all that information. Now I simply want to transfer the knowledge and energy into actually making.
I love the instant response of clay to manipulation – even to the most subtle actions, and the ease to which this reaction can be erased. Subconscious and unintended actions often lead to surprising effects; I find it a pity to follow a rigid plan and lose the interaction between the clay and tool, and maker. The material always presents more possibilities than a design made from pure conception. In this way, designs seems to emerge in my hands before it does in my mind.
Q: Could you tell us a bit about your process of making a piece? Are there particular techniques you employ in your work?
In making teapots, I consider the body, lid, knob and handle as separate elements that find its match during the assembly process. I always work on multiple works simultaneously. During this process, I keep the work-in-progress components in a plastic box to prevent them from drying out and maintain a workable dryness.
I start by throwing a batch of around ten pots and matching lids each time. While the body and lid are drying, I prepare multiple different handles and spouts. Instead of throwing, I hand build the spouts by pinching. After I have molded the clay into the desired shape, I hollow out the inside. By hand building, I have more flexibility and creative freedom in forming the shape of the spout.
Once the pots are leather hard, I trim them to achieve the right thickness to fit the lids and galleries, then finalize the knob on the lid (at times, I attach a knob retrospectively). When I assemble the teapot, I always attach the spout first and then the handle. Sometimes the pots may have to stay in the plastic box for over a month until I feel I have found the suitable matching components.
Q: How does your cultural background and training as a ceramicist inform your practice?
To start with, it influences my channels and sources of acquiring information. My native language is Chinese, which makes materials in Chinese easier for me to access. I think and digest in Chinese, and the same oriental sensibilities underlie the foundations of my aesthetic judgement and, consequently, my output. I do also appreciate the varied presentations of clay in diverse cultures: the interflow and integration of cultures throughout history make it hard to categorize ceramics across fixed boundaries. Nonetheless, there are notable differences in lifestyles as well as dietary habits between the East and West. In that respect, I would say my works lean towards an Eastern style.
The training I received informs individual elements of my process. My training in Central Saint Martins has provided me a with a solid understanding of the technicalities of health and safety issues in the industry. More fundamentally, my work experience in the Pottery Workshop Shanghai taught me to cherish clay. Once clay is fired, the process is nonreversible. While I was there, a former colleague and teacher for whom I am most grateful for, told me, 'a bit of clay is akin to a grain of rice'. I carry this appreciation for the value of clay with me.
Q: Where do you draw inspiration from? Do you have ceramicists, artists or other cultural figures or influences you’re inspired by?
My primary source of reference or my library for teapot making are Yixing teapots (紫砂壶) and Chaozhou teapots (潮州手拉壶). In China, these two traditional factions of teapot making are well-respected but also very strict in terms of their apprenticeship and production process guided by rigorous criteria.
I have not been through that systematic training so I am not worried about falling into repetition. I am not part of the system: I don’t know about the specification of each step in the production process, nor stringent standards. Without a mentor, peers or industry constrains, I gather diverse and abundant information from varied sources. Using a multiplicity of information that I have gathered and absorbed, I piece together teapots following my own approach to make works that are uniquely mine.
Q: What do you find most challenging about your creative process?
There are endless things to learn about clay, in terms of both theoretical and historical knowledge, as well as practical skills. Information on areas like glaze chemistry and kiln firing remain as words and theories in books that I find hard to truly grasp without substantial hands-on practice. I rely the most on my experience in making, which is simultaneously what I feel I lack the most at the moment. Over the years, I have gradually built a relationship with clay, but I still feel unfamiliar with some of the raw materials and kilns that I have less exposure to. I see this as a kind of limiting factor to my creative possibilities.
So far, making with clay has been more enjoyable to me than it is challenging. It's a double-edged sword, because this enjoyment has also become a way for me to escape from book-based learning. I am trying balance between making and studying, and want to invest more time on reading, research and reflection.
Q: Do you have new plans or directions you are happy to share with us?
Teapot making is a long journey that I may never stop, but I am also interested in exploring the creation of other everyday objects. Functional wares have always intrigued me, especially the forms of cups and bowls, which I find endlessly fascinating. After working on teapots for a while, I increasingly feel that the simpler the form, the more challenging it is to infuse with charm.
See Youyou Wang's collection at Maud & Mabel
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]]>Celia Dowson and Chloé Rosetta Bell work with different materials, processes and in disparate environments, creating distinctive pieces embodying each of their artistic interests and philosophy. And while the artists’ works appear dissimilar, the pair have collaborated on various occasions – including for the group exhibition 'Of Water', on view at Maud & Mabel from 2nd to 18th November. Underlying their works and unique friendship is a shared dedication to their craft, practice and belief, including a mutual connection to nature. The two artists speak to the Maud & Mabel team about the exhibition, their workspace, processes and inspiration.
How did you collaboratively come up with the theme of ‘water’ for an exhibition showcasing both of your works?
Celia: One of the things we all felt very connected to within our lives was water. It was a very natural conversation – Chloé was obviously talking about the island and the sea, and I was interested in how I observe water and look at colour and reflection.
Chloé: We both have a very strong connection to natural landscapes, and it happens to be that Celia’s often by water. One of our strongest connections is that we both have a love for natural landscapes, even though we both lived and worked in London for a long time – especially Celia. Our connection together is being outside.
Celia: When I see Chloé’s posts and she’s by the water in this amazing wild space being inspired and making her work, I just want to go there and plunge myself in. But then there’s also parts of London which shape the way I think about water and landscape. People often ask me how I feel working in such an urban landscape when my work is so much about the natural world. Well, we’re still in it, you know, just because it’s urban doesn’t mean it’s not there. It’s about being attentive and observational. For me the River Thames is an amazing space to feel really connected to water, flow and nature, and it’s just right on our doorsteps.
For so many people, being out of London is a real luxury so it’s about making that nature accessible to people. This isn’t necessarily what the exhibition’s about for me, but the idea of urban-nature allows people who maybe don’t leave London to actually understand that nature is around them everywhere. They just have to be able to tune in.
How does your work and practice resonate with the concept of ‘water’?
Celia: Chloé and I had some really good conversations when we were away together about how our practices connect, because in some ways they’re really different. Chloé’s very much about materials that come out of the water and grow within the water. It feels very much like a process of working with things that exist within water, whereas mine is much more about surface and experiences of depth and light. What we’re both attuned to is this idea of observation – using that word, we were able to reflect on our own and each other’s practices.
Do you see similarities and differences in the way you approach making works?
Chloé: As Celia said – the question of light and colour doesn’t apply to my work at all, because I never know what colours are going to come out of the kiln. That’s probably one of the most simultaneously rewarding and unrewarding things of my practice.
The last time Celia and I worked together, it was because I was working with a natural material that just wasn’t giving me any colour or depth – I felt such frustration towards the work coming out of the kiln. I remember calling Celia and saying, ‘you have to make your glass to make this work.’ There’s such depth of colour in Celia’s work and the way that light moves through her glass captures the essence of a landscape for me in a way that my work can’t.
I can’t control whether my final work is going to be green, or orange or brown when it comes out of the kiln because the materials really do come from the landscape. For instance, I had no idea that the fossilised wood brought up in the lobster pots from the seafloor, which is used in this collection, was going to be blue and gold when it melted in the kiln. It was a coincidence. I didn’t even know if it would melt or if it would just do nothing. I don’t know what the glaze finish is going to come out like from the kiln, but I’m very controlled in what the form is going to be. That’s probably the most design side of my work. I’m very specific about how I want the shape to look.
Celia: I suppose that’s a similarity in the way we work, we’re both very much focused on form. Chloé’s way of developing form and the processes she uses are very natural and organic to the material. She doesn’t often tell people, but she uses a kick wheel quite a lot of the time, which is really a very, very hard process and you need to be incredibly skilled as a maker to throw a pot on a kick wheel. I suppose you look at how material cases form, whereas I’m very much about how form will allow light, or glass, to change colour. My form is all about depth, whereas yours is quite often about surface.
Chloé: We met recently to speak about the collection and work on some collaborative pieces, and because we’re both form led, we were able to work well together to develop a series. Whereas if someone approached a collaboration led by the material without knowing what the final form was like, I would be like, ‘don’t you want to know what it looks like so that we could make it work together?’ I think our joint form-connection enables us to work really well together.
It’s so nice to see the both of you have such a good relationship – in terms of your friendship and also in a professional setting. Could you share with us how your friendship, or collaborative relationship, developed?
Celia: Chloé and I were in different years at the Royal College of Art; I graduated just a year before her, but we didn’t really talk to each other then – it’s strange how education schooling does that, because you’re in a different stage, and Chloé’s a very peaceful person. Chloé, I remember being really intrigued by your practice because you always had such beautiful images, paintings and drawings; your space was always set out in this amazing, ritualistic way; and the way you capture your process is so beautiful. Everything about it is really thought about. And then you had my desk on the other end, which was absolute chaos and mess as always, where everything feels like a big mishmash of stuff, and then somehow I produce something which is quite minimal.
But our friendship did sort of develop – I think the first time we contacted each other was when I was doing a residency in a school in London and Chloé asked if I could put a piece of her work in the gas firing kiln there. After that we were also working together for a little while in a gallery. I think you’re [Chloé’s] just a really nice person, so it’s very easy to find a comforting place to work with you and talk to you. It’s a nourishing friendship, and because it’s such a nourishing friendship and we have similar interests I think that’s probably what’s made it grow.
Chloé: Also we probably have spent more time with each other than you would normally spend with a friend, because when I travel from the island to London, I stay with Celia. So we have long gaps where we don’t talk and then we have a really intense period together.
Celia has a really beautiful and very peaceful home full of amazing objects which inspires conversation and then we catch up on our practices. So even if we might not speak for a long time, when we come together it’s a fueling of ideas and checking in to see how each other’s practices are going, which has been a lifeline.
Celia: I think that’s part of it as well. When Chloé and I are together, it’s just a nonstop endless chat, and then she won’t see me for a month again.
What’s really special about our friendship is that there is no demand. It’s very open. At the beginning of this project, we decided we could not make a collaborative piece because it might just feel really forced. As we started to develop our ideas, we changed our minds and thought that our materials would work really well together: Chloé uses this beautiful copper plating on some of her works and that kind of echoes some of the colours I’ve been working with recently. Our collaborative piece came about really organically and naturally – there was no demand from either side.
Chloé: We experienced an exhibition, which was a collaboration between two artists, that just didn’t work for us. When you force two materials from the start and decide you have to collaborate and work together to make a piece that has both materials, it removes the essence of what the exhibition is about. If the exhibition is all about observing water and being in that place, then trying to force work into that rather than organically letting it come out for your practices just doesn’t feel natural. So when we came to meet at the end of the research period, it was like, ‘oh, but this could work’. It was really natural and felt like it was about observing water, because it’s the two ideas coming together in one piece.
What is it like collaborating with each other?
Celia: The first time we collaborated was when Chloé invited me to her show in the summer of August 2021. I was asked to make work with not a huge amount of time in advance but it was great!
Chloé: Can I just say that you were very generous in the amount of work that you made for me. I mean, Celia sold out so it went very well!
Celia: It was incredible to be invited to the exhibition. Chloé’s incredibly generous, always, with makers. It’s quite nice that the materials are so different. Often in shows where there’s one material, there’s a kind of competition – I don’t think artists would like to think of their work in that way, but as a viewer your eyes are drawn to a form and quality you like about a material and sometimes other things don’t get recognised.
It actually really made me think when Chloé invited me to work with her for the exhibition in 2021. Chloé, you talked about the quality of different materials coming together, and the strength that can bring. That’s really changed how I think about materials coming together from different lenses in an exhibition: what the materials can do and how they are achieved differently from different processes. Often you suddenly see the similarities and differences in materials when they are displayed under the same theme. It allows people to question more about what they’re looking at. The works aren’t competing, instead it’s collectively enhancing an idea.
Chloé: I think they elevate each other. I knew when I asked Celia to work with me, that her work would elevate the exhibition altogether. That’s the whole material concept. When you view it as a whole without focusing on a singular material – walking into the exhibition space – our materials very much combine and enhance each other and elevate the whole concept, which is why I think we were so happy to work together on this one. We get to work together from the start rather than at the end.
You both worked in London for a while, but are now based in such different environments, though you seem equally inspired by nature. Do you think your surroundings shape your work?
Chloé: We both had the experience of working and studying in London while we were at the RCA, but I immediately moved back to the Isle of Wight after that.
Celia: Did you grow up on the island?
Chloé: Yes, although most of my life was in Leeds so it was my later life that was on the island. But I’ve always come back here and lived here. I love being by nature and I have to be by nature to make work. I feel really uninspired if I don’t have that connection to be able to go out on the cliffs or be by the water, it doesn’t make sense for me to make without that.
Celia: I was born in London and sort of grew up here, but I was very fortunate to have family scattered all over the world. My grandparents lived in Norfolk before they passed away so I basically grew up as a child in Norfolk next to the River Waveney, right on the Norfolk Suffolk border in a place called Geldeston. I grew up outdoors: I was allowed to mess around, climb trees, hurt myself, make mud pies, and go and run around in the garden.
I’m quite solitary here in London I would say. I have close friends – a pocket of them – but I spend a lot of time in my studio and walking with my dogs by the river. Maybe not so much when I was younger, but now that I’m in my early thirties I find that really nourishing and inspiring. Yesterday I got off my bike on my way to work and watched a bird murmuration which lasted for about twenty minutes. Everyone else was on the Battersea Bridge and there was the noise of London behind me, but it was really meditative and beautiful.
Can you tell us about the spaces you’re in and how you engage with it in your work?
Chloé: We are both invested in curating spaces. In Celia’s room or living space, everything that’s in there is considered and is there for a reason. I find it difficult to make work if my studio is messy. When people have come to photograph my space, I think they’ve been really disappointed because everything is cleaned away and ordered. They expect to see creative chaos, but I just don't work that way.
Celia: You shuffle things around as well. When we went away together, I’d wake up in the morning and see you in the kitchen shuffling things. It’s just so beautiful and nice, because it’s very much you so I just let you get on with it! But everything is put away, and a glass would have been put out with flowers that were freshly picked. Everything’s done with intention and care, and I think your practice is exactly the same. I love when Chloé curates my work. I find curating my own work really hard because it’s not really about the individual piece, it’s been about the process and letting go.
More and more in my practice, I realise that I don’t know whether ‘inspired by the landscape’ is the right term for me to describe my work. It’s much more that I witness things so when I make work I’m aware of how those movements and flowing forms happen within a material context – I find parallels and similarities. It’s about being observant of spaces, landscapes and colours, and then being observant of the processes, materials and making. You can learn a lot about what’s happening out there through what’s happening here within the studio, especially with colour. I think that happens more and more within my practice. It’s very much about learning for me.
How does that shape your practice?
Celia: The results often surprise me. I’m sending a piece of work to Karen that I’m really, really excited about and planning to enhance and develop into bigger work. It’s a surprise happening: I was studying water and over the past year, I’d been taking loads of close-up photographs of droplets hanging on spider webs. They’re beautiful, magnificent. I wonder, ‘How is the material doing that? What’s the tension?’ One day I was making a form and engraving grooves, and air pockets got caught where the plaster touched those grooves, creating little spaces for the casted glass to fall in. They make droplets of glass that hang off of a sculpture. That’s something the material has given me – I haven’t defined that. That’s the material-led process I love.
Celia, what’s your favourite element about Chloé’s work?
Celia: Aside from the beautiful work that Chloé makes, I think what’s really special is that it’s not just about her. It’s also about the way she engages with materials, the landscape, the space that she’s in, and, importantly, the community. Chloé’s always working in conjunction with a chef, fisherman, or someone else. There’s a whole connective idea in the way that she works, which is really important to her practice. I think that’s beautiful, because she’s not just creating pieces in solitude but it’s about everyone and everything else that informs the landscape and space. I think you’re quite a connected person, Chloé, in that you’re always drawing people together: artists, furniture designers, glass artists, ceramicists… because you see how things can work as a whole.
Chloé: At the start of my practice, I was very zoned in. I wanted to be the maker of beautiful objects that would be in people’s homes. Then I got really fed up. I just didn’t want it to be about me. So I moved to Paris for a while and worked for a designer called Marlene Huissoud and assisted her in her practice. It had very little similarities to my practice. But I greatly admired the way she was working with natural materials. I had never experienced her methods and found it very inspiring. I thought it’s beautiful the way that she develops these natural materials into projects. It was something I wanted to capture in my own work.
I’m really drawn to people who have this innate connection to a landscape, who absolutely depend on it and have to live off that landscape, like the fisherman for this collection. This morning he was out at 5:30am and yesterday he was out at 5am, because when he went out at night the light had faded and it’s dark so he couldn’t see the lobster pots. My work is about these stories and the connection of really knowing the people who love and work with that landscape. I want to let other people know their story too, that it’s somebody’s normal livelihood to be dependent on that environment.
My objects try to be a connecting point between these conversations, not in an elevated and otherworldly way, but I really want my objects to be a record of a time, place and people. They’re very much of the moment that they’re made in. This collection is my first collection that isn’t a single edition – in the sense that, when I finish all the other projects, I never return to them and that’s it. But this collection, the Undercliff Collection, is my ongoing conversation with the land and the people that live in it, because I want it to be the documentation of the life and practice that’s ahead. This is just the start of that.
Celia: It’s about how things change and move as well. The island’s going to go through changes and there are new people that come in now as well. There’s going to be never-ending stories you can talk about within your work. That part of your practice is, like you said, documentative. A lot of the images you take almost look analogue and the way that you document your process as well – it’s all interconnected.
And Chloé, what’s your favourite element about Celia’s work?
Chloé: Celia’s objects are so incredibly, beautifully made; every single step is so considered, and full of knowledge and care in the way that she makes. Everything is documented in a beautiful way in a book, and there’s her drawings and colour samples and all the tests. They do so much more than just be the physical form of the glass objects themselves – they have such depth and colour. They are very ethereal for me because they transcend their forms. The way they capture light and colour is so beautiful, especially when it’s displayed in the right space.
Celia: I’m mostly interested in allowing materials to speak, and Chloé you definitely do that through many different ways. Your colours are often unexpected, whereas mine is very controlled. To an extent, the only time I feel really, really free in making is when I’m making the form, so when I’m on the lathe carving things, and that’s the process I always talk about as sketching. Drawing is gestural and that doesn’t necessarily need to be how we actually draw a picture. My process of developing form is always really intuitive. I might have an idea of a shape, but it will always change because of the wax and the way it behaves; because of the speed of the machine; because of my temperament… Then, like Chloe says, the rest is quite controlled. I can control colour and a lot about what I do. The reason the forms are so simple is because I want to reduce everything back to the essential, which is colour for me.
Chloé: But at the point in which it goes in the kiln, that’s not something you can control, right?
Celia: Absolutely. That’s all about materiality, which defines the depth. In a sense, I can control colour if it’s a solid form; I can get a really thin gradation based on how thick I leave it in certain places. But I can never be wholly in control when I’m working with frits and powders and mixing colours. It’s about how it melts. The shape of the form will allow the material to flow in a different way. A bit like how you look at a river: if there’s a rock in it, water would move around it. It’s the same principle.
How do you position yourselves as artists or makers? Do you have any artistic inspirations? How has your artistic journey differed or been similar and where do you see this going?
Chloé: I recently got asked on the spot at my last exhibition, ‘Who do you admire most as a ceramic artist?’ My mind went totally blank because I’m more inspired by people who are experimenting with materials. If you asked me about who I’m inspired by in terms of people working with natural materials, I can immediately say formafantasma, Marcin Rusak, Marlene Huissoud or FOREST + FOUND. I love the essence of their practice, the way they study materials, and the freedom they have to make objects that don’t need to have a function. They have material investigation at the heart of it and that’s really what I love and admire.
I don’t like positioning myself as an artist, maker or craftsperson, or a potter, or a production potter… I don’t like using those words because, I guess, I’m an artist with a practice that studies materials, people and landscapes, and that just evolves naturally as it is. What you think about that, Celia?
Celia: I think if I’d find it really hard to answer who my favourite ceramicists were. Perhaps I’d find it easier to answer for glass artists, but mainly because there’s specific people in my life who made me interested in it. It’s more that I look at artists who explore flow and embody a movement within their work. I’m really interested in people who embrace the physical qualities of a material and are able to manifest that within their work.
It’s an interesting question to think about how I position myself…it depends on the context, really, doesn't it? I’ve worked a lot with restaurants and very closely with a lot of chefs in different ways – there’s a parallel there, Chloé has worked with restaurants and chefs as well. We both worked in making one-off pieces that are very special for a specific idea, a specific chef or restaurant, but I would never call myself a designer, really. Or maybe I would. But maybe in that context, I’d refer to myself as an artist. If I’m talking to someone who explores material or is a maker, I’d say I work with glass and ceramics. It’s very dependent on the context of the conversation. I don’t solely define myself as one single thing. I find that whole conversation really difficult to get my head around, and also I’m like, ‘who cares?’
Chloé: I have moments when I wake up in the night and I think, ‘I said I was a maker, they’re probably going to think I’m a production potter, but maybe am I a production potter because I work for a chef? Does that make me a production potter? But then I actually love the artistry of working with material…’ It’s just too much!
Do you foresee future collaborations?
Chloé: We can't really share what's going on, but hopefully two projects.
Celia: One of them is an invitation from Chloé again, because she’s always inviting people to work with her. The other one is a collaborative exhibition. I’m quite excited about this because even though, well hopefully, you can recognise our work, it does change and move through different forms and qualities. So it’s an exciting thing to look forward to: In a year’s time, what are the forms you’re going to be making? What are the glazes that you’re going to have developed? Who are the people you’re going to have worked with? How are things going to change?
With water, it is this flow and movement and constant change. It’s never stagnant. It’s always going on and moving forward. It echoes the way you talked about your Undercliff Collection, Chloé, you were talking about how things change with the spaces and the people that you’re working with. And then I think about that in terms of our relationship to being artists, and we’re doing exactly the same thing with changing and growing. It’s quite interesting to think about how our practices might develop separately or together in the future and what that might look like.
Water, with its shifting, reflective, and mysterious nature, has always held profound symbolism and metaphorical significance in the world of art. From 2nd to 18th November, Maud & Mabel is set to host the captivating ‘Of Water’ exhibition, featuring the mesmerising works of four talented artists. This article will shine a spotlight on two of the artists, Felicity Keefe and SASA Works (Craig Bamford). These two artists, with their unique perspectives, beautifully weave together the ethereal and tangible aspects of water.
Felicity Keefe’s artistic journey is a fascinating one. Her style, which fluctuates between figuration and abstraction, has been moulded by a deep connection with the landscape. As Keefe explains, her work is a reflection of both her personal experiences and her interaction with the environment. Keefe’s unique approach involves using paint in a traditional manner but also incorporating the use of thrown paint and water, creating a delicate balance between the control of the brush and the spontaneity of this technique in her mark-making process.
Keefe’s work delves into the metaphors and symbolism that water embodies. She draws inspiration from the ancient and continuing links that water has with healing, purification, wisdom, and transformation in different cultures. Her fascination with spiritual systems such as Shintoism, contributes to her belief in water as a shifting, reflective, and mysterious element that underlies all life on the planet. This profound perspective forms the foundation of her work and serves as a strong narrative that runs throughout her artistic creations.
Keefe’s use of colour is striking, with a focus on the winter landscape’s stillness, mystery, and its bleakness. Her colours are muted yet deep, using earthy umbers and siennas. Keefe explains that mixing primary blues and cadmium tones adds depth to her work. The colours within the water areas are often reflective of the sky, ranging from stark whites to dark shades, all dependent on the constant changes of nature; weather, time, seasons.
Craig Bamford, the artist, architect, and master craftsman behind SASA Works, embarks on an emotional and creative journey that transcends the boundaries of traditional materials. For the 'Of Water' exhibition, Bamford's works, fashioned from silver, brass, and steel, beautifully capture the essence of water and its deep connection to the human experience. Bamford's creative process for this exhibition draws from a poignant source – a line from John Masefield's poem "Sea Fever." The poem begins with the line, "And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by," which resonates with a deep sense of wonder and simplicity. This line held a special significance for Bamford, as it was recited by his father in the weeks leading up to his passing. The concept of journeying, symbolized by a boat and a guiding star, inspired a sense of peaceful meditation. It allows individuals to withdraw from the overstimulation of the world and find clarity and peace within.
Bamford's art also delves into the timeless myth of boats carrying souls to the other world. This concept, found in various ancient cultures, resonates deeply with him. Whether it's the Anglo-Saxons, Polynesians, or Egyptians, the idea of a boat ferrying the soul to a cosmic ocean beyond our realm is a powerful and universal concept. Polynesians, for example, created intricately decorated boats for this very purpose, which have been discovered in caves. Bamford interprets this myth as an exploration of an ocean that is not of this realm but rather a cosmic ocean encountered only in the afterlife.
The poetry and the technical aspects in Bamford's work are intrinsically linked, with the poetic idea leading the way. The challenge lies in aligning the practical with the poetic, a vast space of learning that Bamford skillfully navigates. For example, in his piece "Between Worlds," he transformed a World War II bullet shell into a boat, symbolizing transformation and remembrance of balance and peace. Bamford constantly explores and adapts to the materials and skills at his disposal to serve the poetic vision.
Working with metals, especially steel, brass, and silver, provides the unique ability to shape-shift. Steel, in particular, can take on delicate forms while retaining its strength. In the piece ‘A Star to Sail By,’ steel, brass, and silver are employed, offering a visual lightness that reflects the perfection of the cosmos in material form. Silver, a precious metal, elevates and reflects light, adding a touch of the divine to his works.
Keefe’s work delves into the metaphors and symbolism of water, capturing the ever-changing interplay between light and water with striking colours. Her art beautifully balances aesthetic appeal with a powerful message of environmental awareness.
Bamford, contrastingly, moulds water into delicate narratives, offering viewers a glimpse into the myth and poetry of the sea. As Bamford’s pieces find their place in the ‘Of Water’ exhibition alongside the expressive paintings of Felicity Keefe, they form a compelling dialogue between the ethereal and the tangible, inviting visitors to explore the many facets of water’s beauty and significance.
'Of Water' will be on view at Maud & Mabel 2nd-18th November.
Louisa Grey is the heart and soul of British interior design studio House of Grey. Since its inception, the studio has developed and embodied its own principle, Circular Salutogenic Design®, a ‘whole-world-whole-person approach’ to holistic design. Underpinning each of their interior projects is the simultaneous and equal consideration of the practicality, eco-friendliness, aesthetics, ambience and comfort of a space. In fulfilling Circular Salutogenic Design®, the studio collaborates with select craftspeople, artisans and artists to create bespoke and unique spaces tailored to the lives and interactions of the people within the space.
Its holistic approach to design and appreciation of crafts is what makes House of Grey a long-time partner of Maud & Mabel. In anticipation of the London Design Fair 2023, we have the honour of inviting Louisa Grey to share her thoughts with us on design philosophy, lifestyle, running a design studio and managing her personal space in her converted Finsbury Park townhouse – the Home of Holism – which was renovated and launched in 2022.
Q: What inspired you to pursue interior design as a career and what was the journey to where you are today?
House of Grey was born whilst I was 3 months pregnant with my son. I had designed two restaurants and private residential home and I felt there was another way to design and build in a more positive way, one of which had less of an impact on the earth and offered health benefits for its inhabitants.
I had issues conceiving and this led me on a natural path of acupuncture, Chinese herbs and a realisation that the old, traditional ways of living should be the new way of living – simple, healthy and free of chemicals, toxins and pollutants.
Q: Could you tell us a bit about the Circular Salutogenic Design® and what it means to you and your studio? And has this changed for you over the years?
As a design studio we’re constantly evolving from within and looking to the future in all areas of our work: exploring new research, innovating products, developing partnerships, investing in our internal training, honing our design processes and applying our Circular Salutogenic principles across everything we do.
Circular Salutogenic Design® is about creating interior spaces and environments that allow humans to live in harmony with the planet and themselves.
At House of Grey we holistically fuse the features and principles of Salutogenic Design with the aims of Circular Design to create unique, personal environments which actively promote human health and have a positive impact on the planet.
Q: What do you consider important design elements in styling and designing a space? Any tips on how to create spaces with subtle luxury?
Our approach is to have a deep understanding of our clients lives and how they would like to flow through the space as they live their lives. This allows us to design a bespoke space for them which will elevate, support and nourish them daily – constantly responding to their needs, and providing a joyful and pleasurable experience everyday. It is also important for us to embrace the history and ‘bones’ of a room or building and enhance it rather than fully stripping it out.
Working with the unique structure of a building alongside the needs and tastes of the client, we develop interiors that are personal to the individual or specific to the business it homes, making each House of Grey-designed space a nuanced experience that goes deep beyond the aesthetic.
Q: We love the work of House of Grey. Are you happy to share with us how you work with your team and how you manage to instil creativity, vigour, and grace to both your work and personal life?
It is incredibly important to focus on the people you have around you, be that in a creative capacity and also on a personal level.
The choice of amazing individuals I have around me in my daily life has given me a huge amount of support to achieve being a single mother, whilst running a creative studio full time; and has allowed me to build on the foundations laid ten years ago and the business to grow organically, while thoroughly enjoying the process along the way.
Q: Does your lifestyle and personality translate into the way you approach design? How does it intermingle? Perhaps you could tell us about this synergy (or separation) in your home.
This is how and why House of Grey’s Home of Holism was born –
In 2019 we faced the task of sourcing a new studio space; after viewing a multitude of potential options, we decided none of them had the right feeling. We quickly realised that we needed to design our own creative space in full, from the ground up, to show how and where we work every day and for potential clients to experience Circular Salutogenic Design® for themselves.
As with the ‘home retreat’, the new House of Grey studio design needed to go beyond aesthetics. I looked at how we were working together as a design studio and decided that we had to create something for ourselves to elevate how we work, boost our individual health and collective creativity.
Our aim at House of Grey has been to create both a comfortable home and content workplace environment that people look forward to coming into each day and leave at the end of the day feeling inspired and energised.
Home of Holism was opened in February 2022 – launching the studio's concept for holistic work / life balance which simultaneously encompasses every aspect of founder Louisa Grey’s life. It exists to balance the needs of a designer, maker and creator; a working mother; a business owner; a social being; and person who holds the value of health in high esteem.
The Home of Holism was restored inside and out, from the roof to its foundations, using Circular Salutogenic Design® principles and materials throughout.
Q: Do you have a particular designer, artist, art and design movement, style or philosophy that you are inspired by?
It would be either Luice Rie or Gunta Stolz for being strong pioneering women, and encouraging change with creative movement at a time when women were not valued in this way.
Q: What is your favourite piece all time / at home? And why?
My mother’s painting, she’s an incredibly talented painter. I have several of them throughout the house and they really do bring me daily joy, they are the only art I have in the house…I also have a few of Romily Graham’s ceramic vases (she is my pottery teacher) her porcelain pieces are so beautifully fine, it is incredible and I really value the experience and talent that can be seen in her work.
Q: Do you have any memorable pieces or artists you like at Maud and Mabel? What draws you to this particular piece or artist?
I am particularly drawn to Steven Smith’s smoke-fired porcelain vase, it is absolutely stunning. As an avid potter (I have been throwing for 8 years now), I have a deep appreciation for the work that goes into ceramic pieces and for artists that experiment and hone their practice.
Q: Any highlights for you in terms of art / craft / design fairs and events in London? Do you have recommendations for our readers?
I am afraid I don’t as I do not find them that inspiring, I like to discover independent galleries like The Cold Press in East London that are not mainstream and curate the most inspiring and divine exhibitions.
Q: We are excited about the London Design Fair. Are you participating in any way this year?
The 2018 London Design Fair was a huge turning point for us. We launched our approach to healthy design and work-life balance with our home retreat concept at our ‘In the Neighbourhood' exhibition, which really captured the imaginations of many designers and the press at the time.
This year however we are not participating as we have several major projects completing around the same time, which is exciting, and we’ll be watching and supporting the design community in London from not so far away.
Luna Huang, founder of Huang Contemporary and member of the Maud & Mabel team, curates the exhibition Sun and Moon, which will be exhibited at The Goose Corporation Gallery in Wuhan, China from 16th to 30th September 2023. As an artist who grew up in China and is now based in the United Kingdom, Luna’s sensibilities of cross-cultural artistic interactions, confluences and divergence is translated into the conception of the show.
Sun and Moon showcases the works of emerging young artists and the dialogue of contemporary artistic dialogues between the East and West. The title of the exhibition carries a dual meaning: the simultaneous visibility of the Sun, during daytime at one end of the world, and the Moon, during night time on the other end, from the time difference between the East and West; and the implication of new possibilities from the Chinese character "明", meaning bright / tomorrow, which is a combination of the characters "日" (day) and "月" (moon).
The positive and hopeful undertone of the project aligns with the initial reason for its inception. Huang began the project when she received confirmation as a recipient of the Global Talent visa which would allow her to continue her stay in the UK, “a lot of people helped me along the way and I’m really grateful so I wanted to help other people in turn,” she explains during a conversation about the exhibition.
With aspirations to offer a platform for exchange between emerging artists in China and beyond, Huang selected eighteen artists to be represented in the show among numerous submissions from an open call. All the artists are under thirty and have experienced the stall that came with the pandemic at a critical point in their starting careers, half of them are Chinese and the other half comprises a group of artists working in diverse geographical locations – the UK, Ireland, Italy, Russia and Colombia.
Huang’s personal connection to China and the UK makes her sensitive to the gap in artistic dialogue between artists within China and beyond the country during the past three years due to the Covid-19 pandemic. By bringing the artists’ works together, she hopes to generate a sincere dialogue between emerging artists from and outside of China who have the shared experience of the disruption in communication from the pandemic in a highly interconnected world.
Her background of migration and exposure to both Chinese and Western culture, and ideas and approaches to art informs the selection criteria in the curation of Sun and Moon. She notes the differences in the focus of artists in and outside China, “I showcase these differences in the same exhibition in hopes that visitors can explore the commonalities in their artistic expression. For example, their subject matter or medium might be different, but their methods of expression might be the same. Underlying the layers of superficial differences, or even similarities, in the works of these emerging young artists is a pursuit of the same core values.”
As an artist herself Huang values a distinctive personal style which goes beyond skillful emulation and the emotional expression in an artwork, “I’m also drawn to colours, strong movement in composition and expressive forms, and especially works with a strong personality.” Her experience growing up in China makes her aware of its cultural heritage, and the specificities of artistic temperaments which result from the country’s socio-political and historical background. Knowledge of the context under which Chinese artists are working allows Huang to grasp the nuances in styles, motifs and expressions in the work by Chinese artists.
In the words of the curtator of Sun and Moon: “The exhibition will present an earnest dialogue between young artists from the East and the West. We might reflect on the fact that despite being from different cultural backgrounds, the inspirations and aspirations pursued by young artists in their creative processes are remarkably similar. They draw from the essence of their respective cultures while transcending geographical limitations, collectively exploring the mysteries of human emotions and experiences.”
Visit Huang Contemporary's page for more information.
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Ashraf Hanna (b.1967; El Minia, Egypt) is an established sculptural artist based in Pembrokeshire, celebrated across the world for his hand-built forms. Hanna's ceramics and glass pieces are highly acclaimed for its unique forms and acute awareness of the material-interplay with form, density, light and texture.
Hanna's training at the El Minia College of Fine Arts and the still life drawing classes prompted a close examination of the formal properties of pottery in two-dimensional drawings, which translates to his creation of ceramic pieces – a medium introduced to Hanna by his wife and sculptor Sue Hanna in 1997. Hanna set up his current studio in Pembrokeshire in 2000 and completed his MA in Ceramics and Glass at the Royal College of Art, London, in 2011. His work is represented in prestigious collections such as the Victoria and Albert Museum, London and the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, and he was awarded numerous accolades, including the First Prize British Glass Biennale (Best in Show) in 2015.
In the lead-up to his solo exhibition Appearing & Disappearing, we interview the artist, who writes about his practice, process and inspirations.
All responses in the following interview are in the artist's unedited text.
Q: How do you approach making a new piece or collection?
It depends on the size of the project and how much time I need to dedicate to it. However, I often work on different groups at the same time. There are different stages to the development of new work. Ideas reveal themselves through observation and engagement. Thinking through making is fundamental in my approach to creating new work. Development could be subtle and gradual as in exploring the relationship between form and colour. There are numerous possibilities for innovation within the constraints of one single form, the key is a commitment to the process and developing the awareness to identify what is a significant development when it happens.
When it comes to visualisation, drawing, doodling either in my sketch book or on my desk as I work is always a first step. A next step for glass forms would be sketching the form in clay by making a quick maquette.
Q: Could you tell us a bit about your step-by-step process of making your handbuilt ceramic pieces, and your process of making glass pieces?
All my ceramic work starts as pinched pots, many are just that. Larger works are further developed using soft slabs and modelled as I build them up, final refinement takes place when works are leather hard. The surface treatment is an application of coloured Terra Sigillata slips.
Glass works are modelled in solid clay first, a refractory plaster mould is made of that and is subsequently placed in the kiln where glass billets melt and fill the mould. After cooling, the mould is broken and the glass piece undergoes a lengthy process of cold working. All the glass pieces in this show are one offs.
Q: You have worked with raku and smoke-firing, is this correct? But it is not so evident in your current work. How did you come to settle with the techniques you currently use?
Yes, I did. I worked with Raku and smoke between 1999-2009. It is not evident because what I make now is completely different.
After establishing a successful practice in Raku and smoke fired work, I decided to take time out from what was a very demanding work schedule to immerse myself in a different environment and give myself the opportunity to respond to different stimuli. I attended the RCA between 2009-11 to study for an MA in ceramics and glass, the work I am producing now is the result.
Q: Where do you draw inspiration from?
Inspiration sources are varied, as an Egyptian born artist, my formative years play a huge role in informing my sense of form and scale. Early artistic training in Egypt augmented my understanding of form through hours spent in observation during still life studies. This has also trained my eyes to look differently at objects and to appraise design concepts in different mediums.
I initially studied Theatre Design at Central Saint Martins in London before settling in the UK and eventually discovering clay when I met my wife Sue Hanna. The Theatre Design course helped to develop my sense of spatial awareness and how objects relate to one another.
My creative identity is influenced by both my cultural background and Northern European design sensibilities, as most of my formal art and design education and my subsequent discovery of ceramics happened in the UK. Ultimately, what makes a body of work authentic and identifiable to an individual is the filtering of their creative output through their own life experiences.
Q: You have mentioned that you consider yourself an artist with a multidisciplinary practice. Could you elaborate on this and tell us how the different mediums you work with supplement your holistic artistic practice?
When I made that statement, I had plans to develop a number of strands, some came to fruition, some are still on the back burner due to work commitments. I am lucky to have the opportunity to engage with design in both ceramics and glass.
When considering work in different materials, some of the key factors are why, when and how. The most important being why!
I believe that as creative individuals, we have to assess first and foremost why choose a particular material, what design possibilities it affords? Understanding the material qualities unique to each medium can inform a creative dialogue that would enrich the artistic practice.
Q: I find the entanglement of drawing with your practice quite interesting. Do you consider drawing an integral part of your process?
Yes it is. Drawing is not only a first step in visualisation, but crucially, it can also lead to discovery of new forms and directions. When observing a three dimensional composition and attempting to capture this in a drawing; profiles, proportions and shapes are processed and hard wired. This understanding feeds back in the reversal of the process.
Q: Given where you are in your career, is there a particular development, theme or practice you want to showcase with your solo exhibition at Maud & Mabel?
I am excited to be introducing a new collection of kiln-cast glass bowls and a group of double walled ceramic bowls. I hope that people would join me in observing how light interacts differently with forms executed in the mediums of glass and ceramic.
The summer season often inspires colour to be brought into lived-in spaces. In many instances, the colours in crafted objects reflect the allure of nature, built into a handmade object designated for an interior space. The vibrant colours invite associations with the cheerful and pleasant weather during summer, and the often fond memories made during this time. Glassware offers a diversity and range of colours, and its translucent quality adds a serendipitous character to the space, which interacts and changes with the light.
Celia Dowson’s glassware comes in a range of subtle colours with mesmerising gradients. Trained in both ceramics and glass-making, Dowson cross-applies techniques used in the two mediums. She begins by designing the mould and pouring glass pellets and frit into the mould, which is then heated to 860 degree celsius in the kiln. The molten glass then goes through a slow cooling process over the course of eight to ten days. The subtle hues and gradation in her work are created by the form of the vessel, with a denser pooling of glass and the slow cooling process.
Shun Kumagai uses a glass casting technique, pouring molten glass and mixed materials, including metal and soil, into gypsum moulds. The artist makes his own moulds by shaping wax and pouring liquid plaster around the wax, which he then melts after the gypsum hardens. The mixed materials generate an ambiguity – appearing more like glass or earthenware, depending on the lighting. The artist uses interesting and sometimes contrasting colour combinations to complement the textured effect.
Ashraf Hanna works primarily in ceramics, but his ceramic-making techniques and artistic instincts extend to his high-acclaimed glasswares. The artist begins by sculpting a solid clay mould for making a refractory mould from which the glass is casted. Hannah’s handbuilding technique allows him to create precise lines and controlled forms that are translated into the medium of glass, creating bold works with varying thickness in its body that showcase the effects of light through the translucency of thin and thick glass in strong colours.
Aki Sakaida uses glassblowing to create the forms of her glassware, exploring the rich expressions of colour and texture through her glass vessels. Her pieces are smoke-stained with burnt wax, attaining a matte texture. The smoky glasswares acquire a sense of enigmatic timelessness, and the undulating shapes in shades of warm colours conjure a vision of a hazy landscape.
Maud & Mabel’s upcoming exhibition featuring ten Japanese artists presents the concept of Seijaku, centering around the values of tranquillity and calmness, and stillness and solitude emitted amidst activity. This perhaps resonates with our post Covid-19 moment, when events, activities, social engagements, and various aspects of life resume after what seemed like a lull in the constant buzz present in the contemporary. Many pieces featured in Seijaku / Stillness attain the effect of visible time – an allusion appealing to the gravitational pull of time past, which induces a transient halt in our rapid pace routine activities. Objects bearing the weight of time take on a dignified presence, inviting viewers to appreciate its resilience and observe its strength against the test of time.
The natural and muted tones of Mizuyo Yamashita’s ceramics are inspired by archaeological artefacts from various cultures and nature. The artist combines different traditions of clay making and manipulates traditional craft-making techniques for modern sensibilities.
The rough textured ceramics of Tetsuya Ozawa evoke serenity. Ozawa uses black clay from Tokomame, a city in Japan celebrated for its ceramic production, combining it with Chara, a traditional glaze. The kofuki dusting technique creates textural markings that invite quiet contemplation – an effect prompted by the artist’s admiration of modern artist Mark Rothko. These markings create an illusion of the ceramics being time-worn which reflect back on the traditional materials and techniques used.
Takada Kae is a new artist presented by Maud & Mabel in the exhibition. Kae uses tebineri, hand-turned potter’s wheel, to create pieces that are finished with a handbuilding process. The artist paints textured clays on the body of the ceramics in a way which emphasises the texture of soil. The combination of the form and texture results in pieces that have an organic and archaic presence, acquiring a solemnity of archeological finds which have lived buried under earth for years.
Yoko Ozawa celebrates the simplicity of organic forms, rooted in her interest in natural phenomena – ‘seasonal transitions, fog, breeze, rain, light and shadow’. She is also influenced by the Japanese notion of yohaku (blank space). The subtle crackles in the glaze and strokes of rust-colouring make her work appear to have been weathered down by time, surviving the conditions of nature.
Shun Kumagai is another artist new to Maud & Mabel. Kumagi’s uses a glass casting technique, pouring molten glass and mixed materials, including metal and soil, into gypsum moulds. The artist makes his own moulds by shaping wax and pouring liquid plaster around the wax, which he then melts after the gypsum hardens. The mixed materials generate an ambiguity – appearing more like glass or earthenware depending on the lighting. The final product is reminiscent of ancient Roman glasswares with accrued soil encrustations and a shimmer from gradual withering.
Aki Sakaida uses glassblowing to create the forms of her glassware, exploring the rich expressions of colour and texture through her glass vessels. Her pieces are smoke-stained with burnt wax, attaining a matte texture. The smoky glasswares acquire a sense of enigmatic timelessness.
Motomu Oyama explores the beauty of iron in his metalworks. The artist is inspired by the properties of iron – the ways it rusts, melts and bends, and creates works that subtly display the different states of the material in his works. The ancient technique of blacksmithing is used to bring a sense of solemnity to the pieces, with associations to iron artefacts that were often used ritualistically.
Papermaker Hatano Wataru is based in Kurotani, an area in northern Kyoto prefecture that has a long-standing central position in the history of making washi paper. Wataru uses washi to construct pieces that are textural and have a sculptural quality from the process of building and extracting. With a 1500-year history, washi paper carries the connotation of tradition embedded in Wataru’s innovative use of the material.
‘I wear a part of the earth.’ – Yasuhide Ono
Jeweller Yasuhide Ono highlights minerals and old materials that show their age. The simplicity of Ono’s designs highlights the profund timelessness of the stones, which embody endurance through the longevity of its time against natural elements.
Millie Cluzan at Maud & Mabel interviewed Jack Doherty in October 2022, in the lead up to his solo exhibition Vocation. The artist speaks about the upcoming exhibition, his technique and practice, and artistic inspiration.
MC: Thinking about those shapes from prehistory and those vessels essential to communities protection and preservation, in a similar vein you have often referred to your works as ‘survivors’, in that they are marked by the kiln and the atmosphere within there.
JD: That’s right, and they do have quite a savage entry into the world really because the firing is quite extreme - it's a high temperature firing, they’re sprayed with water and sodium, some of them cool quickly, so it's quite a dramatic thing to happen to quite thin porcelain - there are always risks. That marking that occurs from the firing is very important to me as all of the making stories are, in trying to keep signs. The process adds a layer to the final object, and I hope to reveal that.
Read Maud & Mabel story on soda firing, technique mastered by Jack Doherty here.
Jack Doherty's solo exhibition Vocation runs from 24th February - 11th March 2023.
]]>The Japanese word kireina (綺麗な) can translate to ‘beautiful’, ‘neat’ and ‘clean’, a polysemy conflation reflecting a ponderance of beauty in simplicity. These aesthetic concepts are at the heart of wabi-sabi, the Japanese aesthetic principle guiding the curatorial scheme at Maud & Mabel. The new year invites introspection – a reflection of our way of life and consideration of things that are important to us. As we prepare ourselves for the coming year, we observe the ways simplicity can open our eyes to the quiet beauty in objects within our interior spaces.
“I believe that when we consciously cherish something precious, we deepen our relationship with it. This, in turn, deepens our bonds with other things in our lives, bringing out the best in them and in ourselves.”
— Marie Kondo
The custom of spring cleaning before the Lunar new year leads to an annual decluttering – a selective process which rekindles our connection with objects in our spaces. Japanese consultant Marie Kondo’s philosophy on organisation and decluttering amassed a huge following over the last years, introducing to a wide audience the concept of kurashi, translated to ‘way of life’ or ‘seeing the world through the lens of what matters most’.
The search for meaning extends to spaces we live in, as it shapes our habits and quotidian moments, forming places to discover unexpected beauty. Personal collections of handmade objects in these spaces enhance the purposeful engagement we make with materials surrounding us. By removing obstructions – unnecessary things empty of meaning – we create the space to breathe, observe the details that make a piece unique and remember our attachment to each object.
The thoughtful curation of interior spaces that can be described with kireina demonstrate the balance and harmony of the interior design elements of light, space and texture. The beautiful effects of light and shadow are augmented in decluttered interiors, where light has room to travel uninterrupted, diffusing softly for an atmospheric effect.
The empty spaces not only guide light into a room, it creates an airy openness conducive to meditative serenity. Against the emptiness, the objects in a room take on an affective presence – their forms, colours and texture made distinct, accentuated by the plain spaces surrounding them and the soft light falling on the curves and edges.
Contrasting textures are made apparent in these spaces: light glides over the smooth surfaces and follows the undulations and uneven roughness, capturing the materiality of objects. With opened up surfaces, clay, wood, metal, glass and concrete complement each other, ameliorating distinctive patterns and contrasting textures.
SELECTED SOURCES
Sarah Warwick, ‘The 7 elements of design,’ Interior Design by Homes and Gardens, 2022, www.homesandgardens.com/news/7-elements-of-design.
KonMarie Philosophy, Kon Marie, konmari.com/category/konmari-philosophy/.
]]>“From heaven fall icy petals;
In the sky not a spot of blue remains.
A dusting of jade covers the ground
And buries the blue mountains.
The sun rises over the mountain peak.
The chill pierces my bones.
Silence prevails.”
— Musō Soseki (1275–1351)
trans. Edwin Cranston
The poem by Musō Soseki, one of the most influential Zen priests of the fourteenth century, evokes the wintry scene and sensations compelled by the colours of winter beyond the white colour of a snowscape. Embodying the Zen philosophy in being present and in touch with his own psyche, Soseki is able to conjure a strong imagery through a common emotive response to colours. Just as the dropping temperature and dark days can make us feel cold and sombre, and warm interiors and twinkling lights can make us feel warm and cosy, colours can elicit specific feelings and senses. Indeed, colours associated with the cold weather are not merely a reflection of what is visible, but rather, it reveals feelings embedded in stories and memories of the season.
The ceramicists at Maud and Mabel convey these senses through their art, drawing on colour as a language to express the introspective and almost meditative practice of crafting ceramics. This introspective and expressive act of making connect the artist and beholder — the poetic induction of winter in Soseki’s words can similarly be read in contemporary ceramics. As snow drifts over London and dusts the city in white, here are selected artists at Maud and Mabel working with colours relaying our version of winter.
Tetsuya Ozawa uses black clay from Tokoname, Japan, a city known for its pottery production and combines it with the traditional chara glaze. The textures in Ozawa’s work creates a rustic authenticity — brick red is revealed through markings of the cream glaze, a sooty black belies the red and the deep red and white under the black glaze creates the effect of rust. The interruption to uniformity is achieved with the dusting technique of kofuki (also known as kohiki): the white slip is applied in a thin layer so the original clay body is visible underneath.
The rough textures of Ozawa’s ceramics create a feeling of serenity as it compels closer looking at the overlapping layers. The combination of the black and white with the subtle red is a reminder of the simplicity that the winter months can be, as the dark nights and white snow soften in our recollections of winter as we are protected within the confines of brick walls.
Jack Doherty uses one clay body, one colouring mineral and one single firing technique to create his works. The soda fired vessels retain marks from the flame — the vapour sodium oxide glaze interacts with the chemical properties of the slips and clay body according to the movement of flames in the kiln. The cool turquoise captures the chilly winter while the smokey grey and russet marks are reminiscent of the fireplace which comes alive this time of the year.
Jack Doherty’s solo exhibition ‘Vocation’ at Maud and Mabel will run from 24th February – 11th March 2023.
Barry Stedman works with red earthenware clay, oxides and underglazes. Each of his vessels are put through multiple firings to achieve their dynamism: after hand throwing or hand building each form, Barry uses thin washes, wipes back and builds up areas of colour before firing again, finishing each piece by glazing chosen areas. The range of all three primary colours: magenta, yellow and cyan in the vessels are the playful colours of lights and ornaments decorating spaces during the festive season. The painterly broad strokes of dark blue subdues the bright colours and adds a layer of complexity and solemnity to the expressive pieces exuding a sense of measured naivete.
“I really like grey tones because I like the way some clay looks before it is fired. A lot of people don’t — they think it looks too grey and bleak. The same way that I enjoy rain, I quite like bleakness, but in a beautiful way. I think sometimes you can take things like rain and grey pavements associated with bleakness, and reinterpret it in an object to make something beautiful… it’s different grey shades and tones that I seem to keep coming back to. I seem to have a thing about grey — grey and black.” — Annette Lindenberg
On a different note to the festivities of winter, the grey palette of Annette Lindenberg’s pieces offer a charming perspective to the bleakness of winter. Lindenberg hand builds or carves each of her pieces using the traditional Japanese technique of kurinuki, and experiments with glazes and reactions in firing clay, adding delicate elements like her silver droplets and crystalline crackles in the glaze. The intricate details are juxtaposed with textures and forms emulating the sublime nature and inspired by the quiet quotidian moments, encapsulating the serenity in the balance of a wabi-sabi aesthetic, where beauty is found in imperfections.
To know more about Annette Lindenberg’s practice and artistic inspiration, read about our visit to her studio.
See Annette Lindenberg’s special collection ‘Quiet Thoughts’ for Maud and Mabel here.
“I became most excited by soda firing when I realised that this was a way of working very directly with fire and it was possible to make pieces which were marked by flame and soda in a truly individual way.”
— Jack Doherty
This atmospheric firing technique leaves dramatic flashings, gradients of colour from the glazing. In a sense, the ceramicist paints the glaze onto the pottery with flames during the process of soda firing, controlling the texture and colour by adjusting the position of ceramics in the kiln and leveraging the chemical reaction between soda and other glazes.
Soda firing was introduced as an alternative to salt firing, another firing technique which glazed ceramic pieces in a similar logic. In a salt firing, the sodium chloride vaporises and splits into sodium and chlorine gas. The sodium binds with the alumina and silica in the clay to form a glaze, while the chlorine gas creates a by-product of hydrochloric acid when exposed to moisture. The acid is released from the chimney of the kiln, generating black smoke in the firing process.
As environmental concerns were foregrounded, soda firing gained traction as a more eco-friendly atmospheric firing technique used to glaze pottery. In the process of soda firing, carbon dioxide is produced instead of hydrochloric acid, forming a key difference to the two techniques. Though salt has a lower evaporation point than the sodium ash used in soda firing and creates a more even glaze, soda firing produces brighter and more vivid colours.
Soda vapours that glaze the ceramic pieces in the soda firing process are not coloured, but react with alumina, silica and iron in the clay body and slips, liquified clay applied to the body of the pottery, to create a wide range of colours and textures. For instance, reaction with copper in the kiln can result in a pink blushing, cobalt can add a blue hue, carbon can form a grey tint. Surfaces on the ceramics more exposed to the sodium vapour can take on a glossy glaze, but the technique can also create an orange peel texture (pebbled surface).
The language and practice of soda firing is expanding and becoming acknowledged as a ceramic technique with multifarious unexplored possibilities. As a legacy to salt firing, soda firing was used to emulate the effects of the traditional salt-glaze, and many early ceramicists initially working with the technique followed the same firing temperature range, oxidation and cooling cycles as salt firing. Acclaimed artist Jack Doherty rejects this approach, challenging these accepted methods of working with soda firing. Through much experimentation over the years, Doherty’s practice has evolved into a more sustainable approach with lower temperatures reducing the amount of fuel used in the firing process while also allowing for production of a wider range of colours from copper. The respected Lisa Hammond has set up a specified kiln required for soda firing in London and her craft and knowledge is continually perpetuated by her active creation and pedagogy.
Selected Bibliography
Emily Murphy, "What is Soda Firing?", Pottery Blog. https://www.potteryblog.com/blog/what-is-soda-firing.
Jack Doherty interviewed by I-Chi Hsu, "Fuping International Soda-Firing Festival, Xian, China 2019", Doherty Porcelain Blog. https://dohertyporcelain.com/blog/2020/2/4/fuping-international-soda-firing-festival-xian-china-2019.
Harry Levenstein, "What is Soda Firing?". https://www.harrylevensteinpottery.com/whatissodafiring.html.
]]>“I like the way pots enter our lives stealthily, benignly, and exert their quiet influence. As companions, offering beauty, comfort, practical service, sensuous experience all in a modest almost subliminal way. This is the beauty of pottery — that it lives side by side with us not calling for attention, and not provoking self-consciousness. But allowing, as it were by slow release, discoveries of depth and detail.”
— James Burnett Stuart
The November 2020 issue of Elle Decoration magazine features a select group of Maud and Mabel artists. The works are casually scattered in a living space, complementing each other and the neutral tones of the rooms to bring a sense of warmth and harmony. The curves of the ceramics and natural hues softening the rigid corners of an interior space. This spread features work from Martin & Dowling, Takashi Endo, Akiko Hirai, Kin Leung, Hannah Blackall Smith, Enriqueta Cepeda, Josephine Cottrell, Kenta Anzai, Louise Egedal, Nobue Ibaraki, Marie Eklund, Mariana Alzamora, Sofie Berg, Abigail Schama and Jack Doherty.
In 2012, studio of esteemed ceramicist Jack Doherty held an exhibition titled A Place in the World focusing on presenting his work in-situ of living spaces, reflecting the artist's close personal relationship with ceramics which permeate both his living and working areas.
The sleek and vibrant porcelain vases by Anna Silverton make for a chic interior, lighting up the space and instilling it with vitality. The bulbous forms reflect a sheen from the smooth porcelain texture, crafted with an attention to the material qualities of ceramics to create simple and versatile pieces to style up any room. Anna Silverton’s vases are featured in the May 2019 issue of Homes & Gardens.
Sophie Cook’s pieces are recogniseable for their signature form completed with a delicate neck matched by a spectrum of colours that her pieces come in. The enigmatic form and kaleidoscope of colours characterise her pieces with a sense of playfulness. Interior stylist Jennifer Haslam includes a navy blue Sophie Cook piece in its signature water droplet shape with a thin neck into a fun and sophisticated setting. Placed on a low shelf alongside other ceramic pieces of unconventional forms, Cook’s work breaks up the monotony and rigidity of structured spaces, easing a sense of liveliness into the interior.
Nobue Ibaraki’s glazed earthenware pieces evoke antiquated forms and colours — emulating ancient metalware in shape and its colours of rusty brown, oxidised green and stained white. In the scene designed by interior stylist Amy Neason for House Beautiful UK, Ibaraki’s piece sets the tone, placed in a prominent position and clearly visible in the kitchen space, adding to the elegant rustic simplicity of the setting.
The intricate ties between British studio pottery and Japanese ceramics can be traced back to the interwar period and actors at the time who laid the foundations to British pottery as fine craft. Formally established during a time of artistic fluctuations and social instability, studio pottery in Britain today encapsulates Modernist concerns and its early lineage from the period: with a focus on the tactile quality of handcrafting, a strong sense of experimentation in terms of technique and the integration of various cultural influences referring to the past as well as non-Britsh cultures.
The Beginning: Bernard Leach and Shoji Hamada
Bernard Leach (b.1887, Hong Kong; d.1979 St Ives) was an eminent artist-potter and teacher, widely regarded today as the ‘founding father of British studio pottery.’ Though Leach was born British and exerted prominent influence in Britain, his practice was international — it incorporated aesthetic ideals and crafting techniques from East Asia, particularly Japan — and Leach himself lived and travelled frequently, moving between Europe and Asia. Leach spent the early years of his life moving between Kyoto, Hong Kong, Singapore and England. He was enrolled in the Slade School of Fine Art, London shortly before his education was interrupted and at the age of 19, Leach took up a position as a junior clerk in the HSBC in London. Leach then joined the London School of Art in Kensington when he was 21, where he was trained and taught etching by Frank Brangwyn.
“By this [raku] to me a miracle, I was carried away to a new world. Enthralled, I was on the spot seized with the desire to take up the craft.” — Bernard Leach, 1911
Between 1908–1920, Leach lived mostly in Japan, punctuated by a couple years in China 1914–16, instigated by Leach’s disillusionment with the growing westernisation in Japan. The turning point in Leach’s artistic career as a ceramicist happened in 1911, when Leach became enthralled with Japanese raku pottery that he had encountered at a raku party with his Japanese friend Tomimoto Kenkichi. This fascination brough Leach to study, for two years, under Urano Shigekichi, known by his title of Kenzan VI. In 1916, another one of Leach’s friends from the Shirakaba (Japanese literary group), Yanagi Soetsu, founder of the Minggei (folk crafts) movement who had been exposed to Korean pottery, persuaded Leach to return to Japan from China. During this critical period, Leach developed his unique style based on traditional Japanese, Chinese, Korean and English slipware, and importantly, met his long-time artistic partner Shoji Hamada (1894–1978) in 1917.
Hamada had a significant influence on studio pottery of the twentieth century, and was a major figure of the Minggei movement. During his time, he established the town of Mashiko as a pottery centre. In 1955 he was designated a ‘Living National Treasure’ (Ningen Kokuhō) in Japan.
Together, Hamada and Leach left for England in 1920. With support from the St Ives Guild of Handicrafts (backed by philanthropist Francis Horne), they set up a pottery, the first climbing kiln and raku kiln, at a site in Hayle. With much experimentation and persistence, the ceramicists formed their own community of students and potters, which included Katharine Pleydell-Bouverie. In 1932, the American couple Leonard and Dorothy Elmhirst invited Leach to set up a pottery and teach at Dartington, Devon, where Leach settled in 1935. In 1938, after studying pottery management in Stoke-on-Trent, Leach returned to St Ives and initiated a wide range of infrastructural changes.
Writing avidly as a pioneering crafts artist at the time, Leach’s work and his studio gained pronounced importance within and beyond Britain. His pioneering spirit and makers’ instinct coincided with the 19th-century Arts and Crafts Movement — the resurgence of crafts as a reaction against industrialisation combined with a sense of urgency following mechanised destruction of the First World War.
Close Contemporary: Lucie Rie
“Very few people in this country think of the making of pottery as an art.”
– Bernard Leach, May 1940
Lucie Rie (1902–1995), Jewish Austrian-born British ceramicist, another leading figure of British studio pottery in the twentieth century, was a close contemporary to and friend of Bernard Leach. Though she was impressed by Leach’s practice as a potter and his philosophy on the ‘completeness’ of a pot, their works are remarkably different — Leach’s pieces looked back on traditions of craft-making and rustic Japanese aesthetics while Rie’s brightly coloured works were rooted in European Modernist aesthetics. Despite the visible differences in their work, the two shared the same modern spirit, exposure to global craft-making techniques in an increasingly interconnected world.
Powerful Lineage: Jack Doherty; Kenta Anzai
The same strand of experimental zeal in technique and material, and the principles and philosophies in handcrafting remains a recurring concern in contemporary crafts. The legacy of foundational characters in the story of British studio pottery like Bernard Leach, Shoji Hamada and Lucie Rie live on through a lineage of potters and crafts artists trained by these pioneers, or introduced to the craft through institutions or potteries they had led. They continue to inspire with their work, lives, philosophies, institutional infrastructure and writing.
“Clay vessels made in a contemporary context can link people through history. As many of our functional needs have changed, what remains is the physicality of form and the detail of surface which we can experience in daily life.” — Jack Doherty
Jack Doherty’s encounter with the works of Lucie Rie as a young student altered his course and he resolved to devote himself to ceramics. Upon graduating, he took post at the Kilkenny Design Workshops, before establishing his first working studio in County Armagh. Upon relocation to Cornwall, where the artist still lives and works, Doherty acted as the first Lead Potter and Creative Director at the prestigious Leach Pottery, St Ives. Doherty is a fellow of the Craft Potters Association of Great Britain and a founding member of the organising committee at Ceramic Art London.
Observing how Lucie Rie co-existed with her works was fundamental to Jack Doherty’s relationship with ceramics; informing the persevering role of the domestic space and daily life in his creations. To this day, Doherty’s work speaks of a sustained inquisition into the concept of function - viewing his works as domestic-related objects rather than utilitarian. Doherty’s signature soda-firing technique creates chemical reactions that radically alter each of the vessels’ surfaces uniquely.
Part of an outstanding lineage of Japanese artist, Kenta Anzai, based in the Fukushima prefecture, was apprentice to Taizo Kuroda, apprentice to the second Japanese Living National Treasure of Mashiko, Tatsuzo Shimaoka. Shimaoka received his training under the first National Treasure, Shoji Hamada, speaking to the long-standing and direct influence of prominent modern potters on the landscape of contemporary crafts.
Anzai’s handcrafted ceramic pieces are informed by the notion of simplicity. He produces vessels and moon jars in porcelain, which are later covered with a black glaze containing a small amount of urushi lacquer –– a natural Japanese lacquer that originates as tree sap. Anzai’s use of urushi lacquer in his ceramics defies their conventional use for wood, and looks back to over 5000 years ago, when it was used in the creation of Jomon pots. Each piece is indicative of the Wabi Sabi aesthetic, with Anzai taking months to complete them and achieve their thoroughly aged surfaces through continuous sandpapering, polishing and refining. The simple forms of his vessels are contrasted with the unique surface patterns which represent the time and energy that Anzai puts into his ceramics.
Selected Bibliography
https://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-st-ives/bernard-leach-and-his-circle
https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/leach-spherical-vase-t12061
https://www.sothebys.com/en/articles/lucie-rie-pioneer-potter
https://www.waterstones.com/book/bernard-leach-british-artists/edmund-de-waal/9781849760430
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The winter solstice, marking the official beginning of winter with the longest night of the year, is one month away. Winter can be simultaneously festive and dispiriting, joyous and intimidating. Stepping into the season of winter means that Christmas is approaching, only a few days behind the winter solstice; a buzzing anticipation seems to tingle under the chilly air. While the shorter days and frosty weather are often associated with bleakness, cold, colourlessness and darkness, the festive season recalls delightful celebrations, warmth, vibrance and radiance.
This dichotomy of wintry celebrations permeates different cultures. As an example, winter solstice (Chin. 冬節 Dongzhi; Jap. 冬至 Tōji; Kor. 동지 Dongji) is celebrated in East Asia following the Chinese lunisolar calendar, with foods or activities tied to sweetness, family, unions and warmth: in China, the day is celebrated with festive foods like Chinese glutinous rice balls, a homophone for reunion symbolising the union between family members; in Korea, a sweet red bean soup is served to family members; in Japan, people take a citrusy yuzu hot bath. The beginning of winter is acknowledged as the ultimate day of ‘yin,’ in the terms of the philosophical concept of interconnected yin-yang forces. Festivities in winter then fulfil our craving for warmth during the cold, and the light which appears brighter in the dark.
Light in the dark
Illuminating the dark, Kerry Seaton, Ram Rijal and Florence Hill create precious jewellery pieces, adding a softly shimmering touch of gold, the lustre of pearls and brilliance of gemstones.
Jae Jun Lee’s simple oil lamps have a calming presence in their quiet perfection, the flickering flame providing a soft glow which sets the tone in a room.
The gleam of silver and bronze on coarse textures of clays subtly catch light in Annette Lindenberg’s silver droplets dancing across cups, sake sets and jars, and on Yoko Ozawa’s textured ceramics recreating the rusty metallic shine of old bronze surfaces.
Warmth in the wintry weather
Items that help keep warm are favoured in this season for its practical function but also its appeal to the warm feeling of affection and appreciation. Tea bowls, tea pots and vessels in clay and glass by Jennifer Morris, Popalini and Jezando, Sofie Berg, Tetsuya Ozawa and Celia Dowson offer various textures and materials to the experience of cupping a soothing warm drink.
Hats and scarves by Album Di Famiglia, lead by Monica Rusconi, are exclusively made in small Italian workshops. The minimalist and essential pieces are comfortable to touch and made with consideration for the intimacy and attachment to garments.
Celebratory interiors
The cosiest nights come from staying in with loved ones, protected from the cold frosty elements outside. Decorative pieces add an expressive soulful touch to the lived-in space.
Bold and beautiful jugs by Nicola Tassie and Iva Polachova liven up the interior, while hand-turned trays in woods both burnished and bare by Pacha Designs form an ideal accompaniment to display treasured tea ware.
A hint of colour and a gentle reminder of nature can be a thoughtful addition to a space; vases and vessels by Ann Van Hoey and Sophie Cook, and miniature vases by Masako Nakagami contain a whimsical playfulness and delightful charm.
Josephine Cotrell’s monotone prints bring a sense of tranquil peacefulness and serenity to longer evenings spent inside, inspiring a calming and meditative contemplation.
See our full Christmas Collection online or visit us in the gallery at 10 Perrins Court.
]]>London-based ceramicist Annette Lindenberg speaks to us about the inspirations behind her works, her love story with the techniques of kurinuki, and connection to Japanese wabi-sabi philosophy. She shares with us the solace she finds in seeking perfection in imperfections, a quality embodied in her works. Her kurinuki pieces are at once rough and soft, rugged and delicate. There is a soothing and peaceful balance between these dichotomies in her works which capture a delicate intimacy.
Revisiting memories and anecdotes from her daily life and her childhood, when she had already developed an interest in making things and playing with various materials, Annette recounts how these stories are built into her artworks. The relationship between artist and clay is intricately intertwined. While Annette’s personal moments are reflected, consciously and subconsciously, in her creative practice, her physical presence is retained by the clay during the firing process — a result of its material memory.
M&M: What inspires your work?
AL: When I go out for a walk, I see things out and about that maybe have tones I like. I go to museums a lot, which really help me. Some of my pieces are inspired by Egyptian diorite, for example – big carved stone jars. And then I take things with me sometimes: I make my pale blue glaze using things from my mom’s garden.
I know it’s a classic thing to say I’m inspired by the environment, but I really am; in particular, stones and the way I feel in different spaces and places. The reason I’m so drawn to the silver droplets is because it really reminds me of visiting my grandmother in the Canary islands and lying on top of her roof, getting to look at the stars because it’s so bright and sparkly. It gives me a calming feeling to think about that memory. I revisit memories and moments I enjoyed and bring those into my work.
M&M: How and when did you decide to become a ceramist? What was that journey like for you?
AL: I feel like I accidentally became a ceramicist. I always thought I would go down more of an academic route and maybe become a psychologist. Then my grandmother signed me up to open day at Cardiff Met, without telling me, to have a look at their art department; she told me, “you should just have a look at it and see what you think.” We went and I instantly fell in love with a particular multidisciplinary course, because I knew that I loved all different types of materials and wanted to experiment with everything. So I then did everything I could to get into that course.
I was having a really stressful time in my life when I started doing clay, or ceramics, as a way of relaxing I guess. I tried out throwing and different ways of handbuilding, and it just didn’t sit right with me. When I came across kurinuki, it was like everything had changed. I realised not everything has to be perfect and round. There’s something really nice and meditative about the process, and I guess it was, partly, a way of making myself feel more relaxed. Then it just went off from there. I sold out my degree show in about three days and had to remake everything, and it just got rolling.
M&M: Does your family and background impact your practice?
AL: I don’t know whether I would say my family has had a big impact. When I was a child I got left to do my own things quite a lot. Because of that, I got really into making things myself and playing around with different materials since I was quite little. I made a life-sized horse out of cardboard when I was seven because I wasn’t allowed to have a real horse – obviously, we were in Vienna. I remember I rolled all of the cardboard so that it was a horse that you could sit on. I was determined that things I made were not just an image of the thing, but rather they either had a purpose or were technical in some way.
M&M: Does functionality weigh in your creative process?
AL: It used to, but I think over time that has changed quite a bit. I’ve let go of some functionality to find more of the things I really like. I think sometimes if you’re really focused on something being functional, you can discard objects that have a lot of beauty to them. Let’s say, if you take an object that’s been cracked, in the west, we might just throw that away; whereas in Japanese culture, you might use kintsugi to repair it and it becomes a more beautiful object. I like this idea that an object can, in some cases, appear functional. You can look at some of my pieces and they can appear like a functional object, but in reality, they may be meant for decoration. It’s the thought of the object rather than the being that object.
M&M: How did you come across the Japanese aesthetic values and methods of making that you refer to and how does it formulate into your practice?
AL: I was going through a stressful time right at the beginning of my bachelor degree at the end of my foundation course, and I was doing a lot of research for my studies anyway. I just really connected with the Japanese design ideology of wabi-sabi, which I think many people feel a connection to: this idea that something doesn’t need to be completely perfect, and actually imperfection kind of gives it humanness, or, soul. I really feel quite connected to the whole Japanese way of thinking and making, and the fact that they really respect craft, in a really different way from here.
M&M: In your own writing, you mention the intimate connection between a maker and clay, and that the material is sensitive to its maker. Can you explain this connection?
AL: Clay (depending on the clay you are using) has a lot of material memory, so it will revert back to something you did to it. If you hold the clay in a certain way while you are making it, it can end up warping and changing back to that later on in the firing process.
When I started playing around with porcelain, I felt a connection to the clay. I was interested in this at the time because I had a whole batch of tea bowls come out that fitted perfectly into my hand. They had a little indent from where my hand was, even though I had gotten rid of that while I was making it. I realised that clay can mimic or mirror you in some way, shape or form. That was the initial spark that made me realise it is all about that relationship between me and the clay. And because I’m not throwing on the wheel, which automatically spins around and makes something round for me, I have to find that roundness in the block.
M&M: Can you tell us a bit more about your work?
AL: The things I make are often made with the intention to change. If something has a proper crackle on it and you were using it, over time it will begin to get a worn effect. I think there’s something really beautiful about things that are old and used, and I always come back to this. We’re very quick to discard things, especially nowadays. We just throw everything away if we don’t like it anymore, whether it’s because it has a stain or it’s not exactly how it was when we bought it. And yet, if you were to keep some of those things, over time they gain in value again and become these beautiful precious objects that other people will look back on to feel transported into a time.
When I go to a museum, the objects I look at may have been, at one point, thrown away by someone because they had a crack in them, or weren’t useful anymore, or had stains on them. But now that they are behind glass and presented beautifully, we look at them as beautiful objects because it’s a museum piece.
I really like the idea that when things are at this state [referring to the works in her studio], they are the most perfectly imperfect as they will ever be. Over time, things will change. Little bits of dirt will get stuck in there, and maybe that is exactly how it’s meant to go. Maybe that is the life of that pot.
Artist Paul Philp and Maud & Mabel Gallery Director Karen Whitely in conversation.
The Space
The studio, integrated into Paul Philp’s living space, echoes the artist’s persistence towards making ceramics — a practice interwoven into his lifestyle. Philp’s magnificent pieces sit comfortably in his understated and amiable studio space. Interestingly, the imposing presence of his pieces seem to lighten up in the studio, contained between the white, textured brick walls and tall ceiling. Like Philp himself and the work he painstakingly creates, the space is unburdened by convoluted trinkets, emitting a calm and personable charm backed by quiet resilience and a hint of playful spirit.
Form
Paul Philp hand builds each of his vessels, imprinting his physical presence onto the works piece by piece. The seemingly rudimentary process allows the vessel to organically take shape according to the intricate instincts of the artist as he moulds the clay. The time consuming processes of coiling, carving, and sculpting formulate a close relationship between clay and artist; and the casual ease and affection with which Philp handles his materials demonstrates a comfort that can only come from prolonged and close interaction. It was as if his mixtures of creamy buff Devon ball clay, Staffordshire fire clay (used for bricks), and earthenware clay were old friends he had known for years. Yet, there is no sense of repetitive blandness in the unique sculpted shapes and pinched sharp edges of the vessels. The dramatic forms and unwavering lines of the vessels speaks to a mastery of technique and confidence in artistic vision. These strong design elements reflect influence from the modern Art Deco movement, creating an unexpected appeal when combined with rustic elements in Philp’s works.
Texture
Paul Philp’s ceramics connect with its viewers through its tactile surfaces, inviting touch and close observation. A contained energy seeps through the cracks of their textured surfaces. The uneven consistency is achieved through repeated high temperature firings. The pieces are first bisque fired, then layers of ceramic slips combined with combustible organic materials, such as sand, wood ash, cement board, and firebrick, are fired on. Many of the works are finished at white heat. The varying compositions of materials react in different ways with the high temperature and the inconsistencies generate the crackles on the surface of the vessels. Each piece, amalgamating various materials, retains an element of surprise in the creation process — even for Philp who demonstrates close affinity and familiarity with the clays. This unpredictability is risky and sometimes the wares may crack during the firing process. Philp’s tireless experimentation testifies to his commitment and vigour invested into the creative process. The artist’s experienced craftsmanship and consistent stimulated efforts translates into an energetic spirit embedded in the controlled crazing and fissures of the vessels.
The Collection
The archaic effect of texturous surfaces are a result of Philp’s mastery of the firing technique and familiarity with the material, but also of heavy physical labour. During our visit, Philp admits that it is increasingly difficult for him to work with larger vessels and the large sculptural vases are his last works in this scale. We are honoured and fortunate to present a special collection of seven new extraordinary works at Maud & Mabel, including three highly collectible large vases and some smaller pieces embodying Paul Philp’s dexterous hand and unfaltering creative spirit.
Paul Philp’s works appear simple but carry an unmissable individuality and pronounced presence; they encompass an understated resolution and sense of serenity. The intimate careful construction of each piece balances the seriousness and momentousness of Philp’s interest in ancient culture, oriental art, geology, and the natural world, with a touch of playful experimentation.
View Paul Philp's full collection online
or visit us in the gallery at 10 Perrins Court, NW3 1QS
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'Lunar' vessels by Louise Egedal
Stoneware moons by Jane Yang-D'Haene
Varying in their textures, techniques, colour, and stories, the ceramic pieces in the gallery reminiscent of the moon collectively embody an ethereal quality. The works in the exhibition align the serene contemplations of the moon with the practice of ceramic-making — an acute reminder of our innate attraction to the moon and beauty of ceramics.
Yuta Segawa’s mini moons showcase an endearing and intimate interpretation of moon jars. Elevated and lining the upper display shelves, the mini moons with alluring colour palettes range from glossy vivid finishes to pastel matte surfaces. The balanced form of the vessels fitting perfectly in the palm of one’s hand explain the irresistible appeal of the mini moons which have cultivated a large following over time.
“In the hearts of Korean potters, they all have their own images of moon jars and now I think I have one.” — Jaejun Lee
If Textures can be read like text, the inaugural Maud and Mabel Collect exhibition is a haptic narrative. While walking through the exhibit your perspective would be guided over the tactile surfaces of each group of works as though you are exploring a landscape. The work of each artist was given space to breathe, so that each ensemble could be admired unencumbered from many perspectives. The roughness of one artists work is juxtaposed with the smoothness of another. These varying textural qualities come together in an understated but rigorous assemblage of hand craft.
The Japan-born Melbourne based ceramist Yoko Ozawa is fascinated by Yohaku, a Japanese concept that considers blank space. Conversely the surfaces of her work in the show are not blank at all. Her functional rotund tea pots are covered with an intricate craze pattern throughout a white slip surface, over which are layers of glaze. These textures share overt similarities with arid mysterious landscapes, and emphasized by the smooth but naturally shaped eucalyptus handle.
Beside Yoko Ozawa's work are Wu Wei Cheng's tea sets. Every element of the tea sets are architectural and specific but the materialities are elusive and appear to be in metamorphosis. Combinations of smooth ridges and strong abrupt stone like planes reference softly eroded stone. Wu's idiosyncratic textures are subtly embellished with patinated metal details.
Annette Lindberg's textures continue the geological references found in Wu Wei Cheng's pieces. Lindberg's vessels are practices of Kurinuki; the Japanese method of hollowing and carving blocks of clay. Through this ancient technique Annette Lindberg examines her relationship to water and her passion for geology. The textures here are traces of artistic intuition concisely working away the material to find an inimitable excavated artifact. This work is about the interplay between geological texture and the ephemeral droplets of silver or rivers of glaze clinging to the surfaces of the bowls. When one moves around the work they experience iridescent qualities, when all of these textures tend to transform in different kinds of light.
Beside Annette Lindberg's mountainous and aquatic pieces along the mantelpiece, are the playfully chiseled, rhythmic marks flowing over the surfaces rendered by Malcom Martin and Gaynor Dowling. These wooden sculptures were placed on the window sill where daylight could accent the rippling hand made textures. Each of these pieces are a collaboration referential of Giorgio Morandi's still life paintings. Giorgio Morandi frequently painted the surfaces of the objects that were then to be arranged as subjects for a painting, similar to how Martin and Dowling cover these wooden archetypal forms with a surface of meditative marks. The duo's carving process responds to the character of the underlying wood, making for a texture that feels dynamic, improvised and natural.
In the center of the space are a constellation of carefully composed vessels by Kenta Anzai, suspended on minimal steel frame plinths. The artist has found and refined a way to imbue these pure forms with a deep peaceful finish by mixing black glaze with urushi, a traditional japanese tree sap lacquer. After these pieces are glazed, they were patiently sanded and burnished over months, but once finished they attain an effect that suggests a single moment an ensō circle is drawn, and the mind is free within a fluid gesture of creativity.
The process of making these vessels, and the Japanese practice of ensō are meditations on the beauty of simplicity and the mystery of the void. Here the Wabi-Sabi aesthetic; the appreciation of the ephemeral and imperfect, is also embodied in the unique rings of texture that emanate from the neck of each vessel. These traces of texture are telling of the time Anzai took in carefully reworking the surfaces. As seen at Collect, the reflections of the space around this Moon Jar softly glow in it’s beautifully polished surface.
Kenta understands that the viewer completes his work. During the show we witnessed this engagement between visitors and the works of each artist exhibited. People responded to each collection of pieces with sentiment that ranged from intrigue to tranquility, and from appreciation to awe. The energy of the visitors enriched the atmosphere while they moved between the handcrafted textures they discovered throughout the curated works. The thread that ran between all the work was a passionate contemporary approach to the texture of crafted surfaces in dialogue with timeless traditions of making.