Akiko Mori

Could you share a bit about yourself and your background?

I'm Akiko Mori, originally from Japan, where I studied Contemporary Arts with a focus on ceramic sculpture. For me, ceramics was never just about creating functional pieces like cups; it was an avenue for artistic exploration and expression.

After graduating, I taught ceramics in Singapore for a while. Then, after marrying my Swiss husband, I moved to Finland. During the pandemic, I dedicated time to learning Finnish, which has been invaluable for connecting with others and continuing my artistic journey. About two years ago, I returned to ceramics after taking a break for family and parenting. With the support of a government grant, I’ve been able to focus on sculpture and exhibitions, allowing me to push my artistic boundaries rather than simply creating functional ceramics or teaching.

What first inspired you to transition from metalwork to ceramics? How did this shift become a new medium for expressing your creativity?

When I first began working with metal, I was in my 20s and wasn’t sure what I really enjoyed. Metalwork felt too dangerous—there were loud noises, extreme heat, and chemicals that just didn’t feel right to me. At the time, I was in a metal craft course, but I felt a strong desire to join my friends in ceramics. Their workspace was calm, peaceful, and the material was more approachable. That’s when I decided to switch to ceramics, which felt like a more fitting medium for my creativity.

With your background in metal art, how do you see these skills influencing your approach to ceramics? Are there any techniques or principles that overlap between the two?

I think there’s definitely a connection. When I worked with metal, I was drawn to thin, sleek lines and elegant structures. I enjoyed shaping metal into delicate forms, and that same preference carries over to my ceramics. I love creating thin, flowing lines in my ceramic pieces, much like how I used to approach metal. My work has always leaned towards simplicity and refinement, with a focus on line and form.

Could you walk us through your creative process? From concept to completion, what steps do you take to bring your ideas to life?

My creative process is deeply tied to my love for architecture and space. When I create sculptures, I’m not just thinking about the object itself but the environment that surrounds it. It’s important to me that people don’t just see the sculpture but also experience the inner space it holds. For me, architecture and sculpture share this connection—they both play with the concept of space, light, and shadow. I try to make objects that feel delicate, almost like thin lines, allowing the space itself to become the main feature.

This fascination with space began in childhood, when I would sketch detailed floor plans of houses, carefully mapping out staircases, entryways, and garden views. This early passion eventually drew me to study architecture for a time before I discovered ceramics as my true medium. Even now, I find inspiration in visiting architectural landmarks and observing how spaces are utilised. Mid-century design, with its sleek and boxy forms, remains a significant influence on my work. I’m captivated by the idea of crafting environments through sculpture, where each element—the piece itself, its shadow, and the surrounding light—comes together to create a harmonious experience.

Your Grid Series stands out as especially captivating. Can you tell us more about its origins and your personal connection to this theme? What inspired you to explore this motif?

As mentioned, architecture is a field that fascinates me. I view it as a bridge—a support system made up of intricate lines, almost like wires, that work together to create stability. In this series, I explore how these structures, while complex, rely on interdependence. A bridge isn’t supported by a single wire; it requires multiple elements to hold it up, much like my ceramic sculptures. Each piece supports the others; without that connection, they wouldn’t stand.

I wanted to make the internal structure of the ceramics more visible. By removing some excess material, I could highlight the essential forms that give the piece its integrity. The result is a shape that stands with a minimal amount of material, emphasising both strength and beauty.

How does the tactile nature of working with ceramics resonate with you? In what ways does the physicality of the process contribute to your overall well-being and creative fulfilment?

Working with ceramics is deeply physical and intuitive for me. It's like learning to ride a bicycle—once you understand the material, your body remembers the process. But there's a nuance that goes beyond repetition. The clay itself, with its unique texture, moisture, and pliability, communicates with you in ways that you can't fully grasp through instruction alone. It’s a practice that engages both the mind and body, requiring you to constantly adjust based on how the material responds.

The tactile nature of ceramics offers a profound sense of connection—touching, shaping, and moulding the clay brings me into the present moment. Every time I work with it, there’s a rhythm that emerges, a dialogue between my hands and the clay. This back-and-forth creates a grounding experience, something deeply satisfying on a physical and emotional level. The act of feeling the material respond to my touch, its gradual transformation under my fingers, brings a sense of fulfilment and control that resonates deeply with my well-being.

Working with ceramics is also unpredictable. Even when you've mastered the techniques, each piece is different depending on the conditions, or the way you happen to move that day. This unpredictability keeps me engaged. That ongoing challenge and the way my body adapts each time feeds my creativity and gives me a deep sense of accomplishment.

In the context of contemporary art, where do you see the greatest potential for preserving important local crafts? How does your work contribute to this dialogue?

I believe craft is something you can’t just learn from watching YouTube tutorials. While technology can assist in sharing techniques, the true essence of craft comes from repetitive practice and continuous improvement. My work contributes to this dialogue by maintaining a hands-on approach, emphasising the importance of mastering skills through dedication. I also encourage people to value the tactile experience and not rush the learning process—it’s about embracing the journey of improvement.

You’ve had the opportunity to showcase your work in various solo exhibitions. What goes into developing a solo show for you? How do these opportunities come about, and what do they mean to you as an artist?

Preparing for a solo show is a collaborative process for me. It’s not just about presenting my work; it’s about creating an atmosphere that communicates my artistic vision. For example, I’ve worked closely with galleries to ensure that my sculptures are presented in a way that reflects the spatial concepts behind them. These shows mean a lot to me because they’re not just about displaying finished pieces—they’re about creating an immersive experience for viewers.

What current projects are you most excited about right now? Are there any new ideas or collaborations on the horizon that you're particularly passionate about?

I’m really excited about a project coming up with Vitra, a company known for its iconic mid-century furniture designs. They invited me to be part of a group exhibition featuring various artists, which feels like a dream come true since I’ve admired their work for so long. It’s a great opportunity for me to merge my love for architecture and design with my ceramics practice. I’m also preparing for a group show in Finland where I’ll be showcasing larger pieces, pushing the scale of my work beyond what I’ve done before.

Artist website akikomoristudio.com
Artist IG @akikomori_
Images [4, 7, 8, 9, and 16] are by Henry Vogt, image [2] is by Anayan Tanttu, and the rest are by Akiko.henrivogtphoto.com ananyatanttu.com