6 - 23 February 2025: Low Lights and Solo Nights by Andrea Roman

Private View Wednesday 5th February, 6-8pm

An intimate collection of one-of-a-kind pieces that celebrate solitude as a space for reflection, calm, and personal connection. Inspired by the hues of dawn and dusk - deep blues, serene greens, melancholic greys - these works invite you to prolong silence, inhabit it with pleasure, and rediscover the beauty in moments of stillness.

Designed to accompany you through moments of introspection, these pieces resonate with dimmed light and the small rituals that make solitude a luxury; a flickering candle lighting up a rain stained window in the morning, or a glass of wine as the evening fades.

In contrast to her usual practice of functional wares, Andrea ventures into the realm of utilitarian art, present a series of objects that embody the connection between design and contemplation.

Ahead of her exhibition, we ask her a few questions and invite you to read below.

You are no stranger to klei, having exhibited with us back in 2020 and your work is regularly found in store. How do you feel your work has grown, changed and/or remained constant since 2020?

The essence of my work, straight lines and simple shapes, has stayed the same, but I think it has become more defined over time. My basic range is more standardised now, and I’ve played a bit more with saturated coloured clays. I’ve moved away from the more earthy, raw aesthetic towards something that feels both more industrial and playful. This exhibition gave me a good excuse to start the year by questioning that automatic pull towards straight lines. I started experimenting with breaking them half way through the making, and I feel like something new is emerging in that direction.

You studied Product Design, has this influenced your approach to making?

There’s always been a pull between the precision of industrial processes that drew me towards studying Product Design and the irregularities of handmade work. I like to sit somewhere in between—playing with repetition and uniformity while leaving room for the material to do its thing.

When and how did you start working with clay?

At university I had access to all sorts of workshops, it was a true dream, metal bending machines, wood and metal lathes, plastic extruders... and ceramics. I enjoyed all of them equally, but my ceramics teacher at the time was a really inspiring part of it all, and one thing led to another and I became obsessed with the material.

Where did the idea for this special edit of work come from?

From what I truly love about winter, the slow pace, the hibernation process, the kind of warmth that comes from within rather than outside.

"Low Lights and Solo Nights" seems suitable for the season we find ourselves in; what are your favourite things to do in winter in London?

Stay indoors and warm, enjoy my flat, watch films, read a book and have a glass of good wine.

What is your favourite part of the making process?

Getting into a rhythm when throwing makes me very happy. There’s something about the repetition of it, the flow. I also love observing the stained clay change through the whole making cycle, specifically: the powdered stains I use in their raw state, the stained clay laying on the plaster slab, the pieces drying slowly in the shelves displaying a gradient of drying colour, the chalky bright coloured bisqueware that comes out of the first firing.

The colours you use in your work are instantly recognisable, how have you come up with your palette?

Aw, I like that. Not sure, I just naturally gravitate towards certain colours. It's a bit of instinct, experimentation, trial and error and luck.

To those who don't know, can you explain in a nutshell how you achieve the colour in your work?

All the colour in my pieces comes from the clay itself rather than a surface glaze. I stain my clay with powdered stains, which means the colour runs all the way through.

The process is a bit of a mission: first, I slice and dry my base clay, then rehydrate it to a yoghurt-like consistency. I mix powdered stains with water to make a paste, blend that into the clay, then pour it onto plaster slabs to dry for days. Once it’s dry enough, I wedge it by hand, store it, and later, when it’s time to throw, I slap-wedge it again with base clay until it’s perfectly mixed. It’s a long process, and I’m deeply grateful for my wonderful assistant, who helps keep it all going.

What excites you about your future in working with clay?

Right now, continuing to develop the ideas that came up while working on this edit. Later in the year, I’ll be away on a five-week residency in Tuscany, and I can’t wait to see what comes out of that experience.

Who is a maker or artist you love, who we may not have heard of but should know?

Polly Apfelbaum. There’s something in her balance between structure and looseness that has me thinking lately.

What have you seen, heard or experienced recently that has touched or inspired you in one way or another?

Last year, I attended a masterclass taught by Dylan Bowen. His approach to making, so distant from my own, reminded me of the beauty in loosening up and embracing imperfection. It encouraged me to create space to let go of control and see where the process could take me.

While my practice tends to be more deliberate and structured, this experience reminded me of the value of unpredictability and how it can breathe new life into making. This collection is a reflection of that shift. Halfway through, I changed my approach, moving toward a looser, more spontaneous way of working.

What is the most recent ceramic vessel or piece of pottery you've bought for yourself?

A bright yellow banana shaped candleholder by Arjan Van Dal.