Isabel Wynn on Monochrome Reverie
In conjunction with the exhibition Black and White and Everything In Between: A Monochrome Journey, we visited Vancouver artist Isabel Wynn‘s studio, nestled in the heart of Chinatown, to learn more about her practice and how she explores the monochrome through ceramics.
Isabel Wynn working in her studio, 2024
Can you tell us a bit about your practice?
Isabel Wynn (IW): My practice centres around abstract ceramic sculptures, exploring form, texture and balance in ways that challenge traditional perceptions of ceramic arts. I experiment with unconventional shapes and surfaces, pushing the boundaries of what clay can express. I’m deeply fascinated by the physicality of the material and how it responds to touch and manipulation. The process itself, from raw clay to fired sculpture, is a key part of my artistic journey, embodying transformation and unpredictability.
What drew you to ceramics?
IW: My attraction to ceramics was layered. I loved how incredibly fun it was to play with something that came from the ground, like I was kid again making mud pies thinking I could strike gold on my quest to find treasure in the backyard or at the beach. Here lies a natural universe full of possibilities where I can create whatever I want.
I have always been fascinated by the science behind ceramics, the idea that we can manipulate natural materials—earth, minerals and fire—to create something enduring and beautiful. The process of transforming clay at the molecular level through heat and chemistry captivates me. It’s an art form that blends creativity with scientific principles, and I’m obsessed with how we can take something raw and unrefined and, with the right knowledge and skill, turn it into something extraordinary.
Your work often looks as though it is collapsing in on itself. What is the role of destruction in your practice? What inspired this distortion of forms?
IW: Back when I first started creating sculpture this way, it was an entirely spontaneous accident, a fluke that had me completely obsessed with learning how to work this way intentionally. I thought to myself, “Now that is saying something honest.”
Destruction plays a central role in my practice because it reflects the inherent tension between creation and disintegration, both in the material and in life. The collapse or distortion of forms is my way of capturing the fragility and impermanence that exists beneath the surface of things. It’s not just about breaking or distorting for effect—it’s about revealing something more truthful, something raw and unguarded. In a way, these pieces act as subconscious self-portraits, expressing internal states I may not even be fully aware of while I’m creating them.
This distortion is deeply personal. I see the crumbling forms as reflections of my own experience, the push and pull of control versus letting go, and the emotional layers that get compressed or eroded over time. By allowing these shapes to appear as though they are falling apart, I’m tapping into something primal and internal, a process of self-exploration and vulnerability.
The collapse speaks to my fascination with how beauty can emerge from the act of unraveling—whether that’s in nature, our lives or within ourselves. It mirrors how we go through cycles of growth and decay, and the way I approach sculpture mirrors my own understanding of those forces. Ultimately, the work is as much about inner transformation as it is about the physical transformation of the material
Isabel Wynn working in her studio, 2024
You have referred to each of your ceramic vessels as a kind of self-portrait that captures a specific period in your life. Can you tell us a bit more about the periods captured by the works on display, Monochrome Reverie 2 (2024) and Monochrome Reverie 4 (2024)?
IW: This series came from my first experience of depression and complete burn out. I had gone through some massive pivotal moments of loss, extreme stress and fear. It must have been the longest two years of my life, and I felt completely stuck in it. As if life had come to a standstill, and there was a constant simmering tension. I found it very hard to make art during this time because my cup was so empty. Vitality and vigour at an all-time low. It kind of felt like a no-mans land that I was just existing in without any control.
(Left) Isabel Wynn, Monochrome Reverie 2, 2024, ceramic, Courtesy of the Artist and Equinox; (Right) Isabel Wynn, Monochrome Reverie 4, 2024, ceramic, Courtesy of the Artist and Equinox
Can you tell us a bit about your choice of glazing? And why did you use only black and white for these Monochrome Reverie works, included in the exhibition?
IW: Black and white is simple, polarizing, complimentary and striking. I put “simple” in bold to emphasize that I chose to work in black and white because it was easier to approach than colour.
I think also by working exclusively in black and white for this series, I was rejecting the middle ground, the grey, and instead chose to express a kind of polar opposition—black and white became the visual language for the emotional contrast I was living through. These works are silent portraits of that internal conflict, capturing the unspoken thoughts and intense stream of consciousness that defined this period.
White could symbolize the peace or clarity I was craving. Black, on the other hand, perhaps the undercurrent of unease and dread.
That fragility, the sense of being caught between two polarities, worked its way into the forms I was creating.
Isabel Wynn working in her studio, 2024
Your work is deeply motivated by emotions. What is it about the medium of clay that helps you articulate feelings and energies?
IW: Clay feels like the perfect medium for expressing emotions because it’s so responsive—it reacts to the slightest touch, pressure or shift in energy. There’s something really natural and intuitive about working with it, like it has this quiet ability to absorb whatever I’m feeling and reflect it back. It’s almost as if the clay and I are in conversation, where my emotions shape it, and it, in turn, helps me make sense of those emotions.
What I love about clay is how it’s both soft and pliable, yet incredibly strong and enduring. It mirrors the way emotions can feel. There’s a vulnerability in working with it, knowing that the slightest misstep can change everything, but in that process of shaping, distorting, and transforming the material, I find a sense of release. The clay becomes this gentle space where feelings that are hard to articulate—whether they’re calm or chaotic—can take on a physical form. To me—if feelings could have a physical form, this is what they would look like.
You work in large-scale ceramics and often forego the stability of your vessels’ walls, making it nearly impossible to predict the end result. Can you describe your creative process a bit and how this element of the unknown impacts your practice?
Working this way is just so incredibly expressive to me. It’s an energy that I am completely fixated on keeping alive in the work, like capturing a moment of invigoratingly alive expression. Because if you think about it, clay is cold, dense, hard and heavy in its raw form, but when I dance with it, when I move with it, when it’s between my hands and fingers, pushed by body, it’s light, free, alive.
You have to be incredibly calculated when working with clay and glazes, especially at this scale. I find my voice when I walk the line of almost calculated unpredictability. A lot of my process is about pushing the material to its limits to see what will happen and discover those magical moments. I try my best to replicate them, but this process will always leave room for the sculptures to evolve as they will.
I think about the unpredictabilities in my process as a symbiotic relationship with my subconscious. This stream of thought has to do with the question, “How do I know when something is done?” And I think it’s because I can go back and keep adding glaze and firing the work, but I think I just know that when I see it’s done, and it’s just about a relationship between me and the sculpture and not me controlling every aspect of the sculpture.
From left to right: Works in progress in Isabel Wynn’s studio; Isabel Wynn working in her studio, 2024
FOLLOW ISABEL WYNN ON SOCIAL MEDIA
DELVE DEEPER INTO THE EXHIBITION
Closing November 3, Black and White and Everything In Between: A Monochrome Journey uses colour as an organizing principle, creating unexpected juxtapositions that allow us to see familiar works in new ways. Don’t miss this ode to the monochrome! Delve deeper into the artists’ exploration of colour through a selection of interviews.