“Shall we get peach juice?” asks ceramicist Alma Berrow as she collects me from the end of a slightly spooky footpath that runs along the train track in North London’s Willesden Junction, where the artist’s studio is. The juice comes in those glass bottles that, as Berrow points out, make a really satisfying sound when you tap the bottom with the palm of your hand. I’m always reminded of holidaying when I drink Pago juices, not to mention it’s a sunny day. I feel something similar when I look at Berrow’s work, it’s most transporting.
Berrow’s oeuvre is eclectic, decadent, slightly grotesque yet often delicious. Gluttonous displays juxtapose banana skins, rotten lemons, shrimp and oyster shells, black gammon boards, ashtrays and cigarettes, lots of cigarettes. There’s something so deeply human about her mock-real work. It’s neither a critique nor complement, just a sociological observation – or, a wink, as she puts it.
The pastry chef turned ceramicist draws inspiration from food and family. Only taking up ceramics in lockdown, the artist has quickly soared to new heights, exhibiting her work at a plethora of galleries including Sapling Gallery and Sotherby’s. And, come October, Berrow is hosting a solo show at London’s Lamb Gallery.
