Imogen Rorke & Fiona Allen | Things Unsaid

Our work begins in much the same way: not with a finished idea, but with a feeling. We make intuitively, allowing marks, layers and materials to lead us towards understanding rather than trying to illustrate something already known. Paint is worked over, drawings evolve, surfaces are stitched, hidden, revealed and reworked until something begins to emerge.

While our visual languages are different, we share an interest in what lies beneath the surface. We are both drawn to the push and pull between control and freedom, order and chaos, concealment and revelation. Our practices explore the emotional landscapes that are often difficult to articulate; the experiences, questions and contradictions that shape us and are still taking shape.

For both of us, making is a way of thinking, processing and connecting. It allows space for uncertainty, vulnerability and discovery. Rather than offering answers, the work invites conversation, encouraging viewers to find their own meanings and perhaps recognise something of themselves within it.

This exhibition grew from an ongoing dialogue between us—through images, messages and shared reflections—and from a mutual recognition that, despite working hundreds of miles apart, we were asking many of the same questions.

Things Unsaid is an invitation to pause, to look closely, and to spend time with the things that are felt before they are spoken.

Imogen Rorke

“I make work to find my way back to myself.

Painting, drawing, stitching and making with clay are not separate activities within my practice; they are different expressions of the same impulse. A need to hold and release. To soothe and unravel. To find rhythm amidst noise.

My work is rooted in the continual negotiation between opposing forces: spontaneity and routine, freedom and control, chaos and calm, abundance and restraint. I am drawn to the spaces in between these apparent contradictions, where vulnerability and strength, fragility and resilience, can exist simultaneously.

The paintings and drawings begin without a fixed destination. Scribbles, splashes, stains and gestural marks arrive quickly, often carrying a sense of urgency or release. They are traces of instinct rather than intention, moments where thought gives way to feeling. Against these expressive marks I introduce quieter interventions: repeated lines, stitched rhythms, patient accumulations of small gestures. These slower actions bring a different energy to the work. They gather, mend, contain and hold.

The stitch has become a particularly important language within my practice. Thread travels across surfaces like a pulse or a breath. Each stitch is a small act of attention. Repeated over and over, they become meditative, echoing the rhythms we instinctively use to comfort ourselves and others: stroking, rocking, patting, humming, holding. The thread does not conceal the chaos beneath it. Instead, it sits alongside it, acknowledging disorder whilst offering a form of care.

Working almost exclusively in monochrome allows texture, surface and gesture to take precedence. I am interested in the memory held within materials: the absorbency of cotton rag paper, the density of oil paint, the tension of thread pulled through a surface, the delicate strength of clay. These materials retain evidence of touch. They record moments of hesitation, certainty, repair and release.

My ceramic vessels emerge from similar concerns. Delicate and finely balanced, they speak of fragility and endurance. Their softened, frayed edges echo the torn edges of paper throughout my work. They appear vulnerable, yet persist. Standing together or alone, they become quiet reflections on the precarious nature of being human.

At its heart, my practice is an exploration of balance—not a fixed state of equilibrium, but a continual process of adjustment. A steadying. A returning. A holding together.

The work grows from the understanding that life rarely resolves itself into neat opposites. We are brave and afraid. Ordered and chaotic. Broken and whole. We hold on and let go, often at the same time.

Somewhere between the scribble and the stitch, the gesture and the rhythm, I continue searching for that place of balance.”

– Imogen Rorke

Fiona Allen

“How do you make yourself seen and heard?

What would you say if you had the language to say it?

What things would you like to tell people that you feel you can’t?

Have you ever questioned everything about who you are, why you are the way you are and what you are doing?

There may be many explanations that feel like no explanation at all. 

Have you ever wondered what your inner would look like if it was outside your body?

I have.

Sometimes it scares me.

Do you hide who you are? Do you even know who you are anymore? Did you ever know?

When do you let go?

Why is the thing we focus on, the thing we focus on?

In every situation there are so many angles. So many different ways of seeing, viewing, responding, reacting.

Art can give us a starting point to talk about things we didn’t realise we wanted to talk about.

To show something that there are no words to describe.

To seek connection and speak to someone who feels it too.

To embody something that has taken hold.

I work in painting and drawing with a mix of figuration and abstract mark making to speak of power, control, love and identity. 

Sometimes there’s an idea, sometimes there’s a phrase, sometimes there’s a sketch. 

A lot of the time it’s a feeling I let out and keep letting out until it’s something I understand and recognise. Things get hidden, worked over other things come to the forefront. Most of the time, I don’t know what it is until it’s out.'”

– Fiona Allen