Akiko Jackson

I often wonder whether art can hold us amid generational grief, injustice, and loss. The studio can feel like a fragile refuge, yet I return to the slow labor of touch—where silence becomes form and memory becomes material. I work with a dense black clay that carries weight. I build through pinched coils, each a small act of care. In their rhythms, I feel the tending—like hair braided with tradition. Each fingerprint holds what words cannot feel. When displacement severs ties to land and language, the body becomes the archive. This piece is small—an exercise in resisting my instinct to build at an embodied scale. The tension of repetition, the pressure of touch, and the layered traces in each coil explore intimacy and closeness. My mother, born in Japan and separated from her family, passed on culture in fragments—gestures, textures, stories. And so, a kintsugi-inspired gold backing supports the heart, asking whether we can face brokenness without glorifying the wound. Can we?



Urn

$1005.00



Urn

$1005.00



bb series #3

$255.00



bb series #4

$255.00



bb series #5

$255.00



bb series #6

$255.00



bb series #7

$255.00


 

Urn

$1005.00



Urn

$1005.00



bb series #3

$255.00



bb series #4

$255.00



bb series #5

$255.00



bb series #6

$255.00



bb series #7

$255.00


  

Urn

$1005.00



Urn

$1005.00



bb series #3

$255.00



bb series #4

$255.00



bb series #5

$255.00



bb series #6

$255.00



bb series #7

$255.00


 

Urn

$1005.00



Urn

$1005.00



bb series #3

$255.00



bb series #4

$255.00



bb series #5

$255.00



bb series #6

$255.00



bb series #7

$255.00