Nika Neelova seals her own tears inside glass sculptures that will dissolve in air. She carves roses from shark teeth millions of years old. She salvages bannisters from demolished houses and carves them into the symbol for infinity. She calls all of this reverse archaeology — bypassing the straightforward to find what the material already holds. The Lacrymatories in UMBRA, Paris, have been disappearing since September 2024. That is not a metaphor. It is the actual thing it describes.

Johan Gelper calls his sculptures drawings in space. It is a fitting description. At Ricou Gallery he shows the frame of a chair that transforms into looping fibreglass tubes, clamped to heavy stones. Elsewhere, a large rake is held upright by a cable that runs on as an extension. A constellation of yellow plastic tubes covered in cable ties bears similarities to a sea urchin. A single leaf hangs at the centre of a steel cable oval. Everything is in balance. Everything is asking a question about balance.

Three years ago clay arrived. From that exact moment it felt as natural as breathing. Giorgia Piu — Rose de Nour — is a ceramicist based in Rome with strong Mediterranean roots, a background in painting and drawing, and an approach to clay that is completely her own: contemplative, instinctive, and deeply rooted in the earth. She and the matter. She and I.