IN TANDEM
New York, March 2026
SACHA INGBER didn’t set out to make a show about duality – but in Two, the theme reveals itself with powerful insistence. On view through May 9 at the Uffner & Liu gallery in New York, the exhibition brings together conjoined vessels, architectural fragments, and domestic forms that speak to one another in pairs, suggesting relationships that are at once structural and intrinsically felt.
Ingber’s practice unfolds like a recipe – measured and deliberate – where references ping-pong between Rio de Janeiro and the US, past and present, body and built space. Familial ties pulse beneath the surface, rendered in clay, glaze, and form. What emerges is not a fixed thesis but a lived language of connection, where meaning is shaped through proximity, and where intimacy is something held and continuously negotiated.
For Shadowplay, Ingber reflects on the emergence of “twos” in her practice, the influence of her years working in television props, and how motherhood, memory, and migration continue to shape her art.
Left Portrait of Sacha Ingber by Alex Leav
Right Marzita & Lucia, 2026, urethane with pigments, epoxy clay, notebook paper, linen, oil paint, cane webbing, wood veneer, acrylic polymer with filler, bookbinding spiral
Your latest exhibition, Two, revolves around duality. When did this interest first emerge for you, and how did it evolve through the making of the work?
The theme of “twos” actually only became clear toward the end of working on the show. It wasn’t something I consciously set out to explore. I began these pieces about a year and a half ago, and only later – when I stepped back – did I start to see what they shared.
That said, the idea of relationships and meaning created through proximity has always been present in my work. On a material level, I’ve long been interested in combining elements that don’t necessarily belong together and finding ways to bind them – sometimes quite literally, like in the form of a book. There’s also an ongoing dialogue between my body and architecture.
With this show, those ideas became more specific – particularly around familial relationships, like that between a mother and child. These are connections that are both physical and deeply emotional.
The Hungry Caterpillar, 2026, glazed earthenware, epoxy clay, urethane with pigments, oil and acrylic paint, gouache
There’s also a strong sense of domesticity in your work. What draws you to that sphere of life?
I’ve always been drawn to architecture and functional domestic objects, as well as the energy of domestic spaces. I grew up in the US, but spent time frequently with family in my birth city of Rio de Janeiro. In both places, the home felt deeply tied to family – very charged environments.
I also worked in television for about eight years, doing props for cooking shows. That meant constantly engaging with table settings, kitchen environments, and vessels. As a result, those visual elements naturally found their way into my work.
Left Duas, 2025, glazed earthenware, grout, concrete, acrylic paint on linen, piping, epoxy clay, watercolor
Right Two, 2025, glazed earthenware, grout, concrete
That’s fascinating – and it really recontextualises the presence of utensils and vessels in your pieces. How did that profession come about for you?
Completely by accident. When I first moved to New York, I was just looking for any work I could find. I met someone who was an art director for a cooking show, and we worked well together. It became a way to support myself while maintaining my studio practice. That said, it actually ended up being an amazing experience. It fed directly into my work and deepened my appreciation for cooking. There was a kind of natural collision between the two worlds.
Left Backgammon: Knives vs. Forks vs. Spoons, 2026, glazed stoneware, urethane with pigments, wood, paint, hardware
Right Farewell Fazenda, 2026, glazed stoneware, wood veneer, urethane with, pigments, cast tin, cane webbing, thread, steel, oil paint
Did that experience shape how you approach your practice now?
Definitely. Working with tabletop props taught me to pay attention to nuance – different types of vessels, historical references, even the specific names of objects. It’s all incredibly sculptural.
It also reinforced a way of working that’s very similar to cooking. I prepare different components and then bring them together. There’s a misconception that I use found objects or assemble things intuitively from what’s around me, but it’s actually very intentional. I don’t really collect things. I make or source elements with a specific piece in mind – it’s like following a recipe.
Left House for You (Citrus), details, 2026, glazed earthenware, grout, dried blood oranges,, epoxy clay, paint
Right Gambler’s Footstool, 2026, glazed stoneware, rattan, thread, cast urethane with pigments
So there’s a strong sense of intention, even if it might not be immediately visible.
Exactly. It’s about preparing each element carefully so that when they come together, they function the way I want them to.
How do you begin conceptualising a piece? Do you sketch? Do you make an “ingredients” list?
For this show, I made very few drawings. I might sketch a basic outline, but that’s about it. I do write a lot of notes, though – usually starting from something in the world that I want to bring into the work.
For this body of work, I tried to let my body lead rather than my mind. For example, in Farewell Fazenda, I began by making floral clay slabs based on plants from a farmhouse my family once had in Brazil. Once glazed, they started to resemble the wood finishes in my current home in New York. That led me to create a parquet floor inspired by my apartment.
There was a kind of back-and-forth – a ping-pong effect – between references. Even so, I still had to refine what belonged in the piece and what didn’t. It was about trusting intuition while remaining selective.
Left Farewell Fazenda, 2026, glazed stoneware, wood veneer, urethane with, pigments, cast tin, cane webbing, thread, steel, oil paint
Right Subindo na montanha da mamãe, 2026 glazed earthenware, grout, stucco, cast hydrocal, epoxy clay, acrylic paint, cast tin
Your family histories seem to be woven throughout the exhibition. How do you balance the personal with broader, more universal themes?
I don’t think too much about making broader statements. I focus on my own experiences and trust that they might resonate with others.
The piece called Marzita & Lucia, for example, is based on my grandmother and great-aunt, who have lived together their entire lives. They’re sisters, but their relationship feels more like life partners. I used garments they own as the basis for the work, binding two sides together with a spiral from a notebook.
In my earlier works, those paired forms were more abstract. Here, it felt right to make that pairing more personal and specific.
Right Vista, Folded, 2026, glazed stoneware, urethane with pigments, cast tin
You’ve mentioned earlier about growing up between two places and two cultures. How does that particular duality shape your work?
There’s always been a sense of longing in my relationship to Brazil. I was born there, but I didn’t grow up there, so my connection feels simultaneously deep and distant. When I’m there, I don’t fully belong – and the same is true when I’m in the U.S.
That distance creates a kind of nostalgia that feeds into the work. I’m especially drawn to the visual language of Brazil – its architecture, domestic spaces, and the interplay between buildings and tropical landscapes. It’s an emotional attachment shaped by absence as much as presence.
Left Backgammon: Knives vs. Forks vs. Spoons, details, 2026, glazed stoneware, urethane with pigments, wood, paint, hardware
Right Sacha Ingber, 2026. Courtesy of the artist and Uffner & Liu, New York
Which of the works in the exhibition felt most experimental for you?
The conjoined vessels were something new for me. I’ve been interested in forms that combine figure, architecture, and vessel, where elements can function as multiple things at once – a skirt as an awning, a handle as an arm.
In this show, I began joining two vessels together. That was inspired by Peruvian ceremonial vessels I saw at the Natural History Museum in New York, where two forms are connected by tubes that allow liquid to pass between them. That idea of internal connection – of shared flow – felt very powerful. It made me think about relationships like that between a mother and fetus, where the connection is very visceral, physical, and primal.
Now that the process of working on this exhibition is complete, where do you see your practice heading next?
I’m trying to stay with ideas longer rather than moving on too quickly. The joined vessels, for example, feel like they still have a lot of potential. This body of work also coincided with me becoming a mother. It forced me to think less and act more in the studio. At the time, I wasn’t sure how that would affect the work, but looking back, it feels like the work almost appeared on its own, in a way. Going forward, I want to continue working in that way – trusting my instincts more. It feels more natural, and ultimately, more honest.
Sacha Ingber’s exhibition Two is on view at the Uffner & Liu gallery gallery in New York, from March 12th to May 9th, 2026
Interview by Martin Onufrowicz
All installation views: Sacha Ingber, Two, Uffner & Liu, New York, 2026. Photo by JSP Art Photography.