FLOW GALLERY

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Newest arrivals at the gallery, captured on film    We recently rediscovered our medium-format camera and have been enjoying using it to capture the newest arrivals at Flow - a collection of works in wood and clay. There is something about the surface and physicality of these pieces that feels particularly suited to analogue photography. The grain, texture and subtle surface variations of the works are echoed in the atmosphere and imperfections of film. We are so pleased to welcome a number of new artists to the gallery : Louis Vincent — UK-based wood artistMitch Iburg — ceramic artist, Minnesota, USAKonrad Koppold — German wood artistSarah Jerath — UK-based ceramic artist Joining here a new work in white Alabaster by Oliver Cook.    Photography by Isobel Napier

A day with Akiko in her London studio as she prepares for her upcoming exhibition with Flow, entitled Déjeuner du Matin , Breakfast.    Words from the artist:  "This exhibition takes its title from Jacques Prévert’s poem  Déjeuner du Matin (Breakfast). The works themselves are tableware intended for the rituals of breakfast, but the title carries another meaning.    I have long admired Prévert’s poetry. In Déjeuner du Matin, there is almost no psychological description. Instead, the poem simply records a sequence of ordinary actions: coffee is poured, a cigarette is lit, a raincoat is put on, someone leaves. Yet through these quiet observations, profound emotion emerges. Nothing is explained, and nothing dramatic happens, but something deeply human is felt.    I find the same quality in the novels of Marguerite Duras, where emotional states are rarely described directly, but are revealed through atmosphere, gesture and the passing of time. Some European films are often criticised as films "in which nothing happens." Yet it is precisely within these uneventful moments that a subtle fluctuation begins to appear - a slight shift in balance that quietly touches our emotions.    This sense of fluctuation is what I seek in my ceramics.    I first encountered it in antique Korean ceramics, particularly everyday vessels from the Goryeo and Joseon periods. Their beauty lies not in precision but in balance achieved through imperfection. Their irregularities are the result of materials that were less refined than those available today, guided by the sensitivity of the maker's hand. They possess a physical instability that feels alive.    I cannot reproduce those works, nor do I wish to. Instead, I try to create my own form of fluctuation. I mix some kind of impurity in my clay and throw it. During throwing, impurities within the clay move unpredictably, resisting an even pull and allowing the form to shift. During firing, the same clay responds differently to oxygen-rich and oxygen-starved flames, producing subtle variations of colour across a single vessel. In many ways, I intentionally reintroduce the irregularities that commercial ceramics have spent centuries eliminating.    Today, much of industrial production values consistency, precision and control. My work moves in the opposite direction, embracing variation as an essential part of making.    I am currently researching why certain forms of fluctuation and irregularity resonate so deeply with some people, while leaving others untouched. What was once an intuitive feeling has gradually become a more focused line of enquiry. The works in this exhibition are part of that ongoing investigation. They are quiet objects, but within their stillness I hope a gentle fluctuation can be felt - one that, like Prévert's poem, communicates not by explanation but by presence."    

When we visited Helen Carnac and David Gates at their home and studios last summer, we talked about the process of making a new home. Having recently moved from London to Somerset they were creating a shared space for living and working. Throughout the house & studios were artworks and furniture they had made and you could see how closely making was connected to the way they live.  They spoke about uncovering layers of the old buildings and about the rhythm of the garden, in a state of continual change. There are parallels in this with Helen’s work. Sheets of copper are crumpled and folded like cloth, forms remain open and unfixed and enamel surfaces seem weathered, as if shaped over time. Her materials are in dialogue with one another, her processes ongoing but not necessarily ever finished or complete.  Once shaped in part by the structures and surfaces of London, there is a softer more layered approach to her materials within this new collection for Flow.   View the collection