Ingegerd Råman
Conversations with Ingegerd Råman
Interview
“It has always been about catching the light and observing how shadows form. Even with tiles, you can create a sense of depth. When they are arranged across a larger surface, you begin to notice the subtle shadows that appear between them. These shadows shift into different tones—lighter and darker—creating a quiet interplay between light and shadow.”
Working across ceramics and glass, Ingegerd Råman has long explored the quiet nuances of light, shadow, and surface. Her work resists excess, focusing instead on subtle shifts—variations that reveal themselves gradually through time and changing light.
In her collaboration with A.a. Danto, Råman brings this sensibility into the realm of architectural tiles. The collections Da Capo and Tile in Number extend her ongoing exploration of rhythm, light, and material, translating gestures of the hand into surfaces that respond to space and movement.
You are widely recognised for your work in ceramics and glass, where subtle shifts in light, form, and surface are essential. How did designing tiles differ from your usual studio practice?
Clay has always been closest to my heart. I throw my pots myself, so I have a direct feeling in my hands. My body works in a different way with clay than with glass, and I move between the two.
Designing tiles was not entirely new to me. I realised that I had an earlier design from almost 30 years ago—three-dimensional sketches—that had never been realised. I had kept the idea because I liked it so much, and of course, a good idea never gets old. So when this project began, I was able to return and develop it further in a different way.
When you first developed these tile ideas 30 years ago, what were you interested in exploring?
It has always been about catching the light and observing how shadows form. Even with tiles, you can create a sense of depth. When they are arranged across a larger surface, you begin to notice the subtle shadows that appear between them. These shadows shift into different tones—lighter and darker—creating a quiet interplay between light and shadow.
At the same time, I am interested in how a tiled wall can remain calm. It doesn’t need to be expressive in an obvious way. It can simply exist, and still feel alive.
Your use of light in Da Capo as a three-dimensional tile—expressed through relief and surface—is especially distinctive. How did you approach light when developing these designs?
Again, I like working with light, with shadow, and with very small movements, rather than decorating in a traditional sense.
Not everything needs to be immediately visible. In Sweden, we often think that white is just white and black is just black. But in reality, there are many variations within both. For me, it becomes a kind of challenge: to work with the same elements, but to find new ways of seeing them, to look more carefully.
The balance between matt and gloss is also very important. A glossy surface reflects its surroundings, while a matt surface absorbs the light. When these are combined, the surface begins to shift—changes depending on the light, the time of day, and how you move through the space. From a distance, it may appear very calm, but as you come closer, it becomes more alive. Even across a single wall, each area appears subtly different because of the light and shadows. It’s very delicate and gives the surface a different feeling each time.
Tile in Number originates from your hand sketches and retains a subtle irregularity. How important are variation and ‘imperfection’ in your work?
My hand is always moving, almost floating. It’s not about placing something exactly right, but more about a feeling—how much space there should be, how thick the line should be, and how it sits in relation to what is around. I sometimes think of being ‘incorrect in a correct way’. It has to feel easy, not too controlled.
I started making these sketches after Da Capo, when I was asked to design flat tiles. At first, I was hesitant, because I didn’t want to make patterns. But then I thought I have to find my own approach. What could I do?
I didn’t want to create a pattern in the usual way, but I eventually found a way to work within the same colour, using a contrast between matt and gloss. The glaze is like glass—it’s shiny and reflects what’s around—while the pattern is treated in matt. When you bring them together, something happens.
In my work, I try to balance structure and freedom. Even within repetition, there should always be a small variation—something that shifts slightly. That’s when it becomes more human, and more alive.
How did your dialogue with A.a. Danto and the production process shape the final outcome, and how do you see the potential of tile within this context?
It wasn’t only the factory, but also the place itself. Located on an island, the factory is surrounded by water, and there is a particular atmosphere there—you can even smell the clay. Clay is such a fundamental material. Every culture has had access to it in the ground. For me, that feeling is very important—it connects you back to something very basic, something that has always been there.
At the same time, I appreciated the way we worked together. We walked through the factory, discussing things both technically and intuitively, and took the time to understand the process. It was a very good exchange.
For me, time is essential. Today, everything has to be fast, and I think we don’t speak enough about the importance of taking time—not only as designers, but in our everyday lives. If you allow more time, you can understand things more deeply and create something better, something that lasts longer. A.a. Danto carries this deep sense of history, and they produce tiles that are made to live over time.
