Photography:
Join us as we explore the practice of Jagoda Dmochowska, a Krakow-born, Amsterdam-based artist working across ceramics and sculptural painting. Rooted in personal memory, art history, and the sensory weight of natural forms, her work exists between decoration and sculpture — ornamental, tactile, and unapologetically abundant in a moment when restraint dominates.
Trained at the Gerrit Rietveld Academie, Jagoda came to ceramics after years of drawing and painting, drawn by the intimacy of working directly with material. That tactile relationship continues to shape her practice today, pieces that begin as sketches and become objects through an intuitive, often unplanned process in the studio. Her references run deep: Baroque and Rococo ornament, the surfaces of shells and fossils, the fig tree at her grandmother's house in Italy. Objects that carry a history before they're touched.
Alongside her studio practice at Vrij Paleis in Amsterdam, Jagoda organizes monthly exhibitions and teaches ceramics to children at Artis: a quiet extension of her belief that art should ultimately serve others by bringing beauty into the world.
Photographer:
How did you start creating, and how did your relationship with making kind of begin?
I think most artists will respond the same way: it's always been there. From a very young age, I was always busy with drawing and making. I had a lot of interest in music, and my parents wanted to push me in that direction, but once I realized how much practicing it takes, I always ended up navigating back to painting and drawing. Quite early on, I think I was 12, I was really set on "this is it, this is what I'm going to do in my life."
There were phases of wanting to be a veterinarian, but then I also realized you have to do maths and I was rubbish at that. So quite early on, with a lot of guidance from my very supportive parents, I discovered there was an art high school in Krakow, where I'm from, and I started preparing a portfolio from when I was 14. It was quite early that I made a very mature decision. Though I don't know if it was a decision or if it just came naturally.
From the moment I started that school, it was just what I was doing. I was always rubbish at school, always stressed and insecure about tests. I somehow managed through it, but drawing and creating was an escape.
Photographer:
When did you transition into ceramics? And is there a material or direction you haven't worked with yet that you're drawn to?
As a child, you start with drawing. I did some sculpting, but not much. Even in art school I had ceramics, but I had a tough teacher who wasn't the type to encourage young girls to work with their talents. He was a bit cynical, and it was very much about making big sculptures and portraits, so that made me think "no, I'm not a sculptor."
Then I started at the Rietveld Academy in Amsterdam, which is a very conceptual school. There I began working a lot with edible materials, food art, and video. After graduating, I was craving some sort of grounding. I had convinced myself during my studies that I wasn't a good painter, so I was looking for something I hadn't really tried fully, and then I went into ceramics and never went back. Many ceramicists have the same experience: once you touch the clay and see how many possibilities there are, you really fall in love.
As for a material I haven't explored yet, I haven't really painted with oil paint. It was always a scary material to me because it feels like it's for "high art," very classical, very demanding of skill. But because I'm so inspired by classical art, I have this tingle to try it.
Photographer:
You make a fig object that's become quite iconic. Does the fig hold a specific meaning for you?
I've heard many interesting interpretations. One client told me a story about Cleopatra, that when she wanted to commit suicide, her servants brought a basket of figs with a snake hidden inside. It also comes back a lot in Baroque paintings.
For me, it was more personal. I derive inspiration from personal stories and nostalgic memories. As a child, I lived in Italy for a year, and my grandmother lived there for almost 20 years. She had a fig tree on her terrace, and it was so exotic for me coming from Poland. The idea of picking fruit in your garden was very special. I was also just fascinated with the aesthetic of the fig: the inside looks sort of gross, but you're drawn to it. It was a childhood fascination, and I just really enjoy making them.
Are there particular artists or movements that have shaped the way you think about your practice?
Most of my aesthetics come from very decorative art. I very much like beautiful objects. For a long time there was this huge minimalist propaganda that everything has to be simple and light-colored, but I've always liked to surround myself with things that are heavily ornamental, decorated, with a lot of texture.
Definitely Baroque: all the Catholic churches and this lavish, dripping wealth and beauty. And Rococo, of course. It often has a bad name for being trivial or "sugary," but I think it was actually rebellious, punk even, to go against religious art and talk about frivolity, pleasure, and beauty. Nature also inspires me a lot: sea-related forms, shells, rocks, fossils.
I am easily distracted by chaos, so I understand the need for simplicity. But I love to be at home and always have something beautiful to look at. I hope my works do that for the people who collect them.
What does your practice look like on quieter or slower days? What do you usually do?
My practice isn't yet at the point where I have to rush with thousands of orders. It's usually slow, which is a luxury. Though of course it would be great to have more regular sales, and I'm building toward that.
If I do have a deadline, because I very often exhibit my work in the space where my studio is, at least once a month, then I get a bit obsessive. On slow days, I love to be at home: sketching, writing, or just chilling, then going to the studio and feeling what I'd like to make that day. I often don't have a plan. And if I really feel uninspired, I like to throw on the wheel. It doesn't require planning. I might make a bowl that I don't put on sale, maybe just keep it for myself or give it to a friend, but it keeps my hands busy and it's very therapeutic. I love the feeling of it.
Do you have any studio must haves? A podcast? Playlist?
Audiobooks, usually some kind of crime investigation, something totally unrelated to making. I'm obsessed with Agatha Christie. They say it's not high literature, but I disagree. And since I've often heard those stories many times before, it becomes a kind of white noise in the background. Though depending on my level of focus on a given day, it can also get distracting, and then I switch to classical music, which sort of illustrates the objects I'm making and gets me into a nice mood. It's very soothing and very inspiring.
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