CHINOKO SAKAMOTO - A Solo Show

A word from the artist

Flow is pleased to announce our upcoming exhibition - our second solo presentation of Japanese artist Chinoko Sakamoto’s ceramic sculptures.

Now based in Nagasaki after a period of study in London, Chinoko draws from both cultural contexts. The quietude of rural Japan, rich in nature, and the contrasting architecture of cities, inform her sense of form and scale.

Ahead of the exhibition, Chinoko told us more about her practice and the work she has made for Flow :

On Clay -

“When I was studying sculpture at university, I had no idea what I was actually capable of making. I was collecting ideas and interests, trying to figure things out, but when it came to the point of creating something tangible, I felt completely stuck. 

It was during a university workshop that I first encountered clay, and somehow, working with it felt incredibly natural. It was as if the clay itself was guiding me, helping me to create something. That feeling drew me in straight away—I was completely absorbed.”

On Influence -

“In everyday life, all sorts of images are stored in my mind—they’re scattered and unorganised. But when I begin by drawing simple ideas in my sketchbook, I extract only the elements I feel like using at that moment. It might be a sense of volume, a shadow, a texture, or a pattern—whatever stands out. From there, I start to abstract those elements. 

When it comes to actually working with clay, I look closely at the developing piece in front of me and make decisions—especially about proportions—as I move towards completing the work.”

On Place -

“When I was in London, I think I was quite powerless and ordinary as a student. There was the language barrier, of course, but more than that, I felt empty inside. Still, in that loneliness, art became a real source of support for me. I made a point of observing everything around me closely, struggling to absorb it all and turn it into something that could sustain me. 

Nagasaki, where I’m based now, is a rural area rich in nature. It’s a place where I can really focus on making, with plenty of space to work. But I also make a conscious effort to travel elsewhere from time to time, to gain new inspiration.”

On Process -

“Basically, I build up the clay by hand, smoothing and stretching it with my fingers as I shape the form. For finishing the rim, I usually either smooth it with my fingertips or use a thin wooden tool. 

When I want to carve more detailed parts, I use a metal scraper, and then refine the surface afterwards with a wooden tool.”

On Surface -

“When I first started making, I found it really difficult to match form with glaze. Even when I felt I’d created an interesting shape, applying the glaze sometimes seemed to take away from what made it special. I struggled to figure out what kind of glaze would suit the organic forms I was making—it felt like chasing clouds. I just kept testing, over and over. 

One day, I was watching a film of Lucie Rie working in her studio. I saw her brushing slip onto the surface, then scratching through it, and layering glaze on top. Suddenly it all made sense—that’s how she had been using the slips I’d seen mentioned in her books. 

That moment clicked something into place for me. I went to the library, looked up different slip recipes, began testing them, and eventually started using them myself. When I returned to Japan, the raw materials were different, so even with the same recipes, I had to start from scratch with the glazes. But after enough testing, I gradually developed a kind of instinct—I could feel when something was right.”

On Scale -

“In recent years, working on large-scale pieces—some even taller than myself—has had a significant impact on my overall practice. Since starting to make larger pieces, I feel that my approach to smaller works has shifted as well. It’s as if I can now see the whole form more clearly—my perception of three-dimensional shapes has broadened in a more abstract and spatial way. 

I’ve also become more conscious of the space that the work creates—not just the form as a single, unified object, but also pieces composed of multiple parts that seem to expand or reach out into the surrounding space.”

Photography by Isobel Napier