1. Tribute to Portuguese Cultural Heritage
In your recent exhibition "Moringue Vazio, Não Carrega Só Vento" you pay homage to an object of Portuguese cultural heritage—no longer used for its original purpose, but deeply symbolic. As with many of your projects, the starting point is your personal collection of traditional Portuguese ceramics. This particular object, once essential to rural life, is closely linked to folk pottery and water conservation practices.
Can you tell us more about this object, its historical significance, and why you chose to highlight it in this exhibition?
Felipa Almeida: Based on the research and text written by Maria Manuela Restivo for the exhibition book, I can say that the moringue is an object that spans centuries of history and daily practices. Also known as a moringa or moringo—and, depending on the region, as a bilha, tambor, pipo, or piporro—the term has roots in the Angolan Kimbundu word mudingi, meaning water jug. Its shape is unique: one handle and two mouths, one wide for filling and serving, the other narrow for drinking. A synthesis of the intersection of various ceramic traditions, it spread throughout the Portuguese-speaking world, especially from the 18th century onward, becoming an indispensable presence in rural life. For generations, the “moringue” refreshed water and life, accompanying men and women in the fields, in the kitchens, and at the tables. It was a functional, humble object, but central to the domestic economy. With the arrival of running water and new materials, it was progressively abandoned. It lost its original usefulness, but not its symbolic power. Today, it no longer serves to quench thirst, but to awaken memories. From an utensil to testimony, from functional piece to collectible item, it is appreciated both for its artisanal beauty and the cultural echo it carries.
It was in this "emptiness"—that of the object stripped of its function—that I found a realm of possibilities. The exhibition "Moringue Vazio, Não Carrega Só Vento" was a tribute to this resistance. Even without carrying water, the “moringue” continues to carry gestures, stories, and the memory of those who shaped it. It reminds us of a communal practice of sharing—two bottlenecks that invite us to drink together—and, in this gesture, reminds us of the value of the collective. The idea for the exhibition arose from an invitation from the gallery Plato , whose only requirement was to work with ceramics. I started, as so often, from my personal collection, with the Alentejo in mind. I chose the “moringue” because it is an object that has been close to me as a collector and observer of Portuguese folk ceramics. I invited 27 artists from different generations and geographies to create their own “moringue”. I wanted to provoke this encounter between tradition and contemporaneity, between an ancestral form and today's expressive freedom. Concurrently with the exhibition, and in continuation of previous projects, I also decided to extend this reflection to the publication, in collaboration with Maria Manuela Restivo, of a book. For this book, we visited several private and museum collections, bringing together antique examples of “moringue” from various regions of Portugal. The juxtaposition of these historical objects with pieces created by contemporary artists allowed us to see, side by side, the permanence and transformations. Ultimately, it was a way to honor and celebrate this object.
2. Collaborations with contemporary ceramicists
In several recent projects, you have invited contemporary ceramicists from various fields to reinterpret traditional objects. Your network of artists seems to grow with each new initiative.
How did this collaborative process begin and who were some of the first artists or artisans you worked with?
Felipa Almeida: From the beginning of this project, I felt that my work should establish a bridge between traditional pottery—often rooted outside Lisbon and preserved by masters who hold centuries of knowledge—and contemporary artists who explore ceramics as an artistic language. There has always been this desire to bring together generations, geographies, and distinct perspectives, creating a common space where tradition is reinvented. On the side of popular pottery, the most prominent figure was—and continues to be—master Xico Tarefa, from Redondo. His presence has been with me for years, from the time I had an architecture and interior design studio to the present day, when I take on curation as a solo practice. In 2020, amid the pandemic, my first independent fair, "Feira Não Cancelada," was born in my studio. At that time, there was an excess of pieces accumulated in potteries, prevented from reaching the usual markets and circuits. I wanted to give them visibility and circulation, and it was with this gesture that it all began. Among the participants were Xico Tarefa and the artist Henriette Arcelin, who then shared my space and with whom I have collaborated on all the pop-ups to date. This initial core group was joined by other key figures: Júlia Cota, António Ramalho, João Mértola—now deceased, but whose work endures—and so many others who, coming from different backgrounds, accepted the challenge of rethinking tradition. It was thus, at this intersection of excess and urgency, between necessity and desire, that my network of collaborations was born: organic and always faithful to the idea that the future of ceramics is written as much in memory as in invention.
3. Ceramics in Portuguese Rural Culture
Traditional ceramics, or pottery, continue to be an essential part of Portuguese rural culture.
In your opinion, what makes ceramics so central to Portuguese cultural identity, especially in rural contexts?
Felipa Almeida: Ceramics were born, above all, from a necessity: be it storing water, cooking, serving at the table… It is, therefore, inseparable from everyday life, especially in rural contexts. But it quickly went beyond its mere utilitarian function. Clay, in the hands of potters, also became decorative, symbolic, and even ritual—as seen in the figurative works of Estremoz and Barcelos, two of the most important pottery centers in the country.
What makes ceramics so central to Portuguese identity is this ability to maintain a local logic. The raw material continues to exist in many regions, and with it, the transmission of knowledge from generation to generation. In Barcelos, for example, the same figures have been recreated for decades, in a movement of repetition and reinvention that ensures continuity and belonging. In other regions, ceramics maintain a dual role: still utilitarian, but also decorative, establishing itself as a living heritage.
Whether it's the clay plate once used only for eating, the jug that held water, or the piece that now occupies a prominent place in a contemporary living room, Portuguese ceramics have never ceased to be sought after, produced, and celebrated. It is memory, permanence, and transformation, making it an art deeply rooted in the region.
4. How would you describe the current state of ceramics in Portugal?
Are you observing any specific changes or developments, whether in technique, recognition, or the role of ceramics in contemporary culture?
Felipa Almeida: It seems to me that ceramics in Portugal is experiencing a period of great vitality in its cities, where never before have we seen so many clay-related experiments produced or sought out. In Lisbon, for example, schools, courses, and studios are proliferating, sparking collective enthusiasm, attracting curious individuals, apprentices, and artists who find ceramics a fertile ground for experimentation. However, unfortunately, the same cannot be said of pottery centers like Redondo or Estremoz, where there was once much more activity.
I believe what we're seeing today is a broadening of the field: alongside utilitarian and rustic tableware, there's a more polished production, designed for contemporary domestic use, and, in parallel, an increasingly sculptural and conceptual trend. Some contemporary artists have appropriated ceramics as a language, and this has brought new recognition to the material—it's no longer seen as merely "poor" or "rustic" and has now found its place in museums, galleries, and art centers.
This transversality is what impresses me most about the current scene: Portuguese ceramics inhabit both the kitchen and the exhibition room, both asserting itself as a living heritage with rural roots and gaining momentum in an institutional and academic context.
5. Artistic collaborations with brands
Portuguese brands like Bordallo Pinheiro have a history of collaborating with artists and artisans to create special edition pieces.
Do you see this type of collaboration between artists and brands continuing, or have most companies moved to working primarily with in-house teams?
Felipa Almeida: I confess I don't have the specific knowledge to answer this question, but collaborations between brands and artists are, in my opinion, fertile ground with a bright future. Bordallo Pinheiro seems to have cultivated this tradition, and I sincerely hope it continues to deepen its reach. The same goes for Viúva Lamego, which over time has opened up space for dialogue with different creators. These are examples that demonstrate how this technical knowledge, accumulated over generations, can be put to the service of new artistic languages and visions.
The world of collaborations is flourishing today, and I believe the trend will increasingly be toward creating unique pieces, bringing together brands and artists, both Portuguese and foreign. It's a truly enriching encounter that not only enhances the relevance of these factories' technical heritage but also allows for the realization of ideas and dreams that would otherwise be impossible. Many artists wouldn't have the means to create certain pieces without this specialized support, and it's precisely in the combination of ancestral knowledge and contemporary imagination that the magic of these partnerships lies.
For me, it's crucial that this legacy be celebrated, honored, and projected into the future. Each collaboration is also a way to highlight the talent and mastery that exist in Portugal—a heritage that shouldn't remain in the past, but deserves to continue to be reinvented, piece by piece.
6. Your personal collection
Your own collection of signature ceramics plays an important role in your research and exhibitions.
When did you start collecting and how do you get these unique pieces?
Is there a specific focus or theme that guides your collecting practice?
My collection emerged almost organically, without an initial plan. When I worked in architecture and interiors, I spent a lot of time in pottery ateliers s and at fairs, and I began bringing pieces back with me—first as references and inspiration, later as a true act of collecting. It was especially in 2020, when I began this solo curatorial project, that the collection took shape and gained momentum.
Today, I have a kind of personal network: I find pieces at street markets, fairs, antique shops, online auctions, potteries, and galleries. Sometimes the artists themselves introduce me to their work, and there are also people in the field who, knowing my interests well, help me find unique pieces. This process of discovery is always diverse, but also very intuitive.
As for the focus, there's a clear inclination toward the figurative—and within that, toward the female figure, which particularly attracts me. Then, also out of attraction or even a certain dose of humor, there are themes that recur in the collection: mermaids, owls, and everything that evokes love. At the same time, I collect paintings, where I follow a more defined line: only Portuguese female artists.
7. Publication as Research
Your most recent exhibition was accompanied by a beautifully produced book, which functions not only as a catalog but also as an investigation into the object's presence in various museum collections in Portugal. You have also published a book dedicated to your personal collection.
Do you see publishing becoming an increasingly important part of your practice? Are there any editorial projects underway?
Felipa Almeida: Publications have become, in a way, a natural extension of my curatorial work. Like exhibitions, books allow me to give visibility to pieces, stories, and contexts, but they also capture on paper an investigation that might otherwise be lost. I like this idea of leaving a record, of creating memory.
Along this journey, the collaboration with Maria Manuela Restivo has been fundamental. Together, we published "Pratos Falantes," linked to an exhibition at the studio, and more recently, the “Moringue” book, which accompanied the last show. In 2024, we also released the first volume in the series dedicated to private collections of Portuguese crafts and folk art—starting with my own collection—and we are already preparing "Coleções 2," which should be released next Christmas.
At the same time, I'm working on an editorial project co-authored with Ana Anahory, with whom I shared the architecture and interior design studio. The book, titled "Portuguese Houses with History," will be published in early 2026. This publication was born from the desire to portray family homes that, because of their beauty and memory, deserved to be documented before their uniqueness was lost. With the growth of tourism in Portugal, many of these homes were converted into hotels, local accommodations, or rural units, inevitably suffering a certain loss of character. Witnessing this process made us feel the urgency to document those that still endure, paying homage to a Portuguese identity and taste that are in danger of disappearing. Although we no longer work together, we share this passion and wanted to join forces to photograph and visually preserve these homes as a way to raise awareness of their heritage value.
8. Visit your studio
Your studio, open to visitors by appointment, offers a carefully selected selection of pieces for sale.
What can visitors expect when they visit? Do you see it more as a gallery, a research space, or both?
Felipa Almeida: My studio in Campo de Ourique is, above all, a space of intersections. There's a section dedicated to my personal collection, composed primarily of Portuguese ceramics—both traditional and contemporary—that I've gathered over the years at fairs, exhibitions, and collaborations with artists. When I have guests, I always enjoy showing off this collection, because I believe that objects only fully come to life when shared.
There's also a sales aspect, with pieces resulting from the various exhibitions I've organized and others from artists with whom I maintain an ongoing dialogue. I like this space to be in flux, for the pieces to circulate, finding new destinations, and for each visitor to take home a fragment of this story.
Finally, there's a room dedicated to research where I gather books on crafts, decorative arts, and Portuguese and international art, which I provide access to artists and researchers. It's a hub for study, but also a driving force for creation—often, the themes of the exhibitions I organize emerge precisely from this archive and the dialogue between books, collections, and artistic practice.
Therefore, I don't see the studio as just a gallery or just a research space: it is both, simultaneously. It's a living place, where different dimensions meet and nourish each other. Above all, it's a space designed to be useful and inspiring, not just for me, but for all who visit it.
