Whenever Loewe gets involved with the craft aspect of a subject—whether or not you were familiar with it, or even interested in it to begin with—you come out of it compelled. I’ve learned to let go and trust the way of Loewe. They’re really that good at these sorts of things. “Loewe Teapots” might not sound like the most bombastic of show titles, but they don’t need excess hype when they’ve got the killer ceramics and porcelain to prove it.
Installation view of “Loewe Teapots,” Milan Design Week 2025. Courtesy of Loewe.
The exhibition marks the brand’s ninth showing at Milan Design Week and was unveiled today during a press presentation at the grand and cavernous Palazzo Citterio
Tea, of course, is rich in symbolism. It’s a theme that feels quintessentially Jonathan Anderson, Loewe’s outgoing creative director: rooted in the quiet ritual of British tea drinking, but also in conversation with the brand’s large and devoted Asian audience, where tea holds deep cultural and aesthetic significance.
Minsuk Cho, Boa Teapot (2024). Courtesy of Loewe.
“Loewe Teapots” is more than an exercise in form—it’s a vessel (literally and figuratively) for global craft storytelling. Many participants are affiliated with the Loewe Foundation Craft Prize, Anderson’s gangbusters passion project which the brand will persevere with. “Loewe Teapots” brings together 25 artists, designers, and architects from around the world to rethink the teapot—not just as a functional object, but as a sculptural form steeped in global tradition.
Akio Niisato, Luminous Teapot (2024). Courtesy of Loewe.
Some of the artists wield subtlety. The Japanese artist Akio Niisato’s appears deceptively minimal at first glance—pristine, smooth, and spare. But when illuminated, its surface reveals a constellation of tiny, glowing perforations, like a deep-sea creature pulsing in the dark. The Korean architect Minsuk Cho’s explores the relationship between texture and form, with a rippling, irregular body and a strikingly flat, circular lid—an interplay that gently evokes the tension between the organic and the engineered.
Rosemarie Trockel, Communal Teapot (2024). Courtesy of Loewe.
But of course, things get more interesting when artists chuck out the rulebook. The Spanish designer Patricia Urquiola’s is a hand-sculpted, violet-hued piece that tosses function aside in favor of form. Its stacked, geometric curves feel like a mash-up of architectural histories and cultural codes—you wouldn’t fill it with tea, but perhaps with some kind of mysterious elixir. German artist Rosemarie Trockel’s ominous takes things even further: massive and monolithic, it is large enough to be used to dump Gatorade on a winning team or to be substituted for a cauldron for a chic witches’ brew.
Wang Shu, Huan Cui – Surrounding Green (2024). Courtesy of Loewe.
Then there’s by Chinese architect Wang Shu, a gnostic-looking vessel that radiates quiet mysticism. It doesn’t look like it would pour well—and honestly, who cares? It seems content to simply exist, humming with presence.
Tea cozies, hand-knitted and crocheted by Loewe (2024). Courtesy of Loewe.
Alongside the one-of-a-kind teapots, Loewe is offering a limited run of zoomorphic tea cozies for sale—each one hand-knitted or crocheted into the shape of a hedgehog, owl, panda, frog, or wide-eyed pig. They nod to domestic ritual and childhood memory, with just the right dose of eccentricity.
Source: Exhibition - news.artnet.com
