‘A suit of clothes made just for you’: the singular home of pioneering artist, Jacqueline Poncelet

March 6th, 2025

‘A suit of clothes made just for you’: the singular home of pioneering artist, Jacqueline Poncelet

Words Victoria Woodcock
Architectural photography James Tarry
Portrait photography Adam Firman

“In my work, I love to collaborate,” says Jacqueline Poncelet, an artist whose practice over the past 50 years has spanned ceramics, painting, drawing, photography, textiles and site-specific installations. A graduate of the Royal College of Art, Jacqueline gained recognition in the 1970s and is perhaps best known for 'Wrapper', a vast and vibrant patchwork of patterned vitreous enamel panels that has clad the walls next to Edgware Road tube station since 2012. More recently, Jacqueline’s work was the subject of a major retrospective at the Middlesbrough Institute of Modern Art (MIMA) last year. This month, her first London solo show in more than 20 years opens at Richard Saltoun Gallery.

“I’ve had such an interesting life,” says the youthful 78-year-old, her grey bob paired with cat-eye glasses. “With the public art projects I’ve done, I’ve dipped into different places and different institutions – talking to nurses and doctors in hospitals or working with the London Underground. It’s just endlessly fascinating.”

In Peckham, behind a door adorned with the playful patterns that have long been a key element of her art, Jacqueline’s home of 24 years – which is now on the market – was also a joint venture. “It was a collaboration not only with the architect – Ken Taylor of Quay 2c Architects – but also with the builder, Michael Tye,” she says over cups of tea in her idiosyncratic dining room. “It's a wonderful thing to be able to collaborate on making a home that's like a suit of clothes made just for you.”

The result is an Alice in Wonderland-like warren of spaces perched on top of and stretching out beyond a pilates studio. Colourful doorways and corridors of dizzying patterns lead at turns to unexpected nooks and vast light-filled spaces. On one landing space, a cluster of mismatched tiles spreads organically over the walls. “I’ve collected them over the years,” says Jacqueline. “I put them up myself; you can tell.” 

From the original Victorian house to the mezzanine-floored extension, maximalist accents combine with minimalist features: exposed steel beams, sleek sliding doors and a striking sculptural skylight. “I love to lie on the floor under it as the light drops because it picks up the last of the evening light,” she says. “It's like a James Turrell Skyspace.” 

Jacqueline Poncelet: “When I first saw this place 24 years ago it was really vile. It had an external corridor that led in from the shop – a plumbers’ merchants then – and a little back extension, then lots of little ramshackle sheds with baths and pipes in them. And a resident rat.

“A friend of mine was married to the architect Ken Taylor. I’d seen his work and really liked it, so when I found this building, I invited him to come and have a look and see what he thought. He agreed that it had potential. He hadn't done anything like this before, but he was very good with light, and this house is just full of light. Right at the beginning Ken asked me, ‘What's important to you?’ And I said, ‘light’ and ‘garden’. There’s a sedum roof on the new building, so it's like I have a garden on my head, as well as the courtyard and the garden at the back. When people say that the inside and the outside are one, they really are here. You just slide the door open, and they meld together. It’s wonderful in the summer.

“I love gardening but I'm a lazy, low-maintenance gardener. I’ve got two patches of star jasmine, which smells heavenly when it flowers. As does the Honey Euphorbia. I’ve got a winter flowering jasmine. And a wonderful climbing hydrangea; I think it smells like Champagne.

“We worked on the space above the shop to begin with. It’s the original Victorian building, which, in some sense, is quite conventional, with a bedroom and a bathroom – although it’s a very unusual bathroom. Most people just like a towel in the bathroom but apparently I like a whole collection of stuff. There’s work from friends, and a few of my ceramics too. And there’s a view over the sedum roof; I always think it's like looking out onto a hillside.

“When I first moved in I just walked in and out over the rubble for a few years while the rest – the new building at the back – happened. I loved it from the start, but when you have huge volumes and vast floors… it did take me a while to make it into a home. I'm the queen of the knick-knack. Maybe I never quite grew up, but I do like to make a little scenario. It’s also really nice to have things made by friends around the place. The tiles on the courtyard wall are by a friend of mine from the Netherlands called Babs Haenen; she did them for a social housing scheme in Amsterdam and I asked if I could have some. And the pattern on the stairs and on the mezzanine floor is from a project I did with sculptor Laura Ford for an exhibition at Camden Art Centre in 1998.

“The builder had also been an art student, so there are lots of wonderful, funny little features that come from him – like the lights in the kitchen, which are shower hoses with light bulbs at the end. And in the bathroom on the mezzanine floor, there's a piece of gutter at the end of the bath that makes a perfect little tray to put everything in.

“I call the [alternating tread] stairs architects’ stairs. They take up half the space of a regular staircase. People are so funny because they always say, ‘Well, what do you do when you're drunk?’ Honestly, I’m not permanently drunk! I can scoot up and down them very easily, even in the dark.

“The space changes all the time. To begin with, the new building had bifold doors; but during lockdown I had these sliding ones put in and it has made the place really transparent – you can really see through to the back garden now. I like things to be flexible. I move things around. So sometimes the dining room is the sitting room, and the sitting room is the dining room. Instead of moving house, I move furniture. In the sitting room I had the cupboards made so that they didn't have to stay in one place; I can pull them out to divide the space. I just never want to be told what I can and can't do, even by my furniture. The carpet in there is one I made. I did quite a few of them and the others are in public collections. They took months to make. I had lots and lots of pieces of carpet, from all over the country, then pieced them together, endlessly making adjustments. 

"The kitchen functions perfectly for me. I love cooking and I've perfected a way of cooking where you can spend time with your guests, rather than being on your own in the kitchen. Sometimes I like to do one of those meals where you just have lots of things on the table and people can help themselves and make their own mixes. Other times, I do slow-cooked lamb.

"I still love the house. I still love the area – you couldn't not love the area. But I need somewhere smaller. That’s the main thing. And 24 years feels like a good run for the money. I feel like a new challenge.”

Jacqueline Poncelet: “this, that and the other” is at Richard Saltoun Gallery, London, from 11th March-3rd May