Earth and Ember | Exhibition Recap

Earth and Ember was a rare opportunity to experience the work of Keisuke Iwata in person, marking his first solo exhibition in America. The show brought together his anagama pieces alongside a broad collection of daily tableware, each reflecting the quiet depth of his craftsmanship.

Even more meaningfully, Iwata-san was here to share insights into his process. Now that the exhibition has come to a close, we’re reflecting on the moments shared, the stories exchanged, and the presence his pieces leave behind.

Keisuke Iwata and his wife, Michiko, an artist we also represent, made the long journey from Fukuoka to be here—a visit made even more meaningful given the circumstances. Though Iwata-san’s voice is softer now due to throat surgeries, he still spoke at the opening and offered reflections on his work. It was a rare moment to hear from the artist himself, a glimpse into the mind of someone who has spent decades with clay and form. His words carried weight, not only in meaning, but in the effort it took to speak them.

At the center of the exhibition were his anagama works, pieces marked by the unpredictable results of wood firing. The Anagama No.6 – Large Bulb Vase, featured on our exhibition poster, was a standout. Its surface showed layers of mineral buildup, shifting textures, and subtle lusters that could never be repeated. These works felt almost geological, shaped by the conditions inside the kiln as much as by the artist’s hand.

The anagama process requires patience, intuition, and a willingness to let go. Firings can last up to ten days, with wood stoked around the clock. In the end, only a small handful of pieces emerge with the kind of richness seen in this collection.

Beyond the anagama works, the exhibition included a broader view of Iwata-san’s practice. His well-known stone vases—sculptural, weighted, and calm—were presented alongside geometric vases with sharp lines softened by natural ash.

Sake vessels with rough, tactile surfaces sat next to a chawan with a deep, moody glaze that looked like a shifting landscape.

Teapots, bowls, and plates carried delicate shell imprints, an unexpected detail linking his tableware to the sea. These everyday pieces revealed another side of his work: how he considers the rhythm of use, how a piece feels in the hand, and the quiet satisfaction of daily rituals.

As part of the exhibition, we also introduced a special collaboration—Stone Hanging Vases. These suspended vessels grew from conversations about bringing his work into new spaces. Hung on the wall, they hold a sprig or bloom with quiet presence, bridging the grounded character of his stoneware with the lightness of air and plant life. Seeing them together in the space, arranged with the same care Iwata-san brings to his own home, was a quiet highlight of the show.

While in New York, Iwata-san and Michiko-san spent much of their time at the gallery. We were so happy they had a chance to meet friends of ours and our son.

We also spent time in Brooklyn, where the Iwatas were drawn to its neighborhoods and flea markets. They explored a few open studios in Bushwick as well. Michiko-san collected scraps—paper, fragments, small objects found on the street—pieces of the city that will find their way into a future collaboration with us. We’re excited to see how those details will reappear in new work.

To everyone who visited, shared conversations with Iwata-san, or took time to connect with the work, thank you. And a special thank you to Noriyasu Moritada, Aya Nihei, Yukari Niikaru, Samiha Alam, Ngân Nguyen, Armando Rafael Moutela, Christopher Noel Stone and Soto Sake.

Exhibitions like this remind us why we do what we do: creating space for lasting connections between artist, object, and admirer.