I have finally reached the last stage of work on this custom order. Strangely, I found that I was - I don't know - superstitious? about photographing the urn while Allegro's markings were visible. It seemed too intimate, as though I were invading her privacy. She is gone, of course, and this is a bit of ceramic material, so maybe I am completely silly. In any case I chose to respect the feeling.
It is low-fire, so that I could control the markings precisely, and I used Amaco'sSuperclear, a lead glaze, for the topcoat. I just thought I'd soon be in need of an urn myself if this piece were ruined by bubbly or cloudy glaze. One thing about those lead glazes: you can count on them. It's gonna be a perfectly clear, glassy surface. And it seems quite unlikely that it would ever be used for food.
I feel way organized! Four days before the firing, I've made cone packs, finished glazing and mixed soda salad, wadding, & door mud. Today I am starching and packing the pots for transport, and dreaming of the day when I can skip this step, and do the glaze firing in my kiln.
Of course, this all happened because I was originally planning to fire this weekend, but when the weather turned crappy (miles beyond merely crappy, actually: 35 degrees and pouring rain, the worst possible weather for loading and firing), I changed my plans. This is yet another example of my poor business acumen: it's the holiday season! Those pots could be in stores, where people could be buying them! Every day that I put off firing is a day when someone buys something else for their loved one for Christmas! If I were a smart businesswoman, I would have put my personal discomfort behind the opportunity to sell more stuff.
Guilty as charged, and I actually do feel a tiny bit guilty about it. On the other hand, I am better prepared this year, so my existing accounts are sufficiently stocked; they will certainly not run out before this load is delivered.
And I am warm and dry, with a cat on my lap. Cross your fingers for good weather Wednesday and Thursday!
Now that I am a lady of a certain age (45 to be exact, although you could mistake me for 43, easy)I find that my back tweaks more easily. I've always been told that wheelthrowing is bad for the back, but that doesn't seem to be the trouble for me. I throw sitting down with my right foot on the pedal, my left leg bent so my foot is a little behind me, and my arms close to my body. I never seem to feel any discomfort after a day of throwing. Glazing, now, with all its bending and lifting (those five gallon bucket -- whoa!) can cause some aches, as can teaching my classes. Beginning classes are especially tough, as after my demonstrations, I am constantly kneeling, bending, and reaching to correct hand positions. Also, the studio where the classes are conducted has concrete floors: great for easy clean up, but hard to stand on for hours. I've found that what I call "half-assed and homemade" yoga helps more than I would have believed! Actually I usually call it "stretching" to my students, as the word "yoga" sounds a little intimidating. I used to picture this when I thought of yoga: I thought yoga was something that required a rubbery, superhuman flexibility. Well, you know how beginning pottery students will often bewail their lack of skill? My answer is always: "You aren't supposed to be good at it. That's why you are taking a class." Yoga is the same: you don't start out flexible" you get there eventually. Nor is there any moral imperative to ever get good at it: you do as much as suits you, and no more. What suits me are a few very easy poses that, done for just a couple of minutes each day, eliminate back discomfort for me. YMMV, obviously. These poses ought to erase the idea that yoga is too hard!
There's nothing like not being able to get into the studio, to inspire clay ideas. I see this in brown stoneware, oval, about 10" high and soda fired; the spirals are a stamped design, perhaps with yelow or purple glaze "inlay." But I will also make it in B-mix, and leave the stamps natural. And vary the size and shape of the spirals. This is my carrot: when my chores are done, I get to go make these. The doodle is hanging on my computer to remind me.
This is the custom order I was talking about. While I never lost interest in this project, I sort of lost my nerve when it came to painting on the markings. I felt that the addition of the little heart shape in white on the belly was the point at which this urn would begin to symbolize this particular cat (Allegro -- isn't that a beautiful name?), and I was a little intimidated. I finally decided that putting it off any longer was not going to improve my chances of getting it right, and forged ahead. I still need to do additional coats, as I am painting white (and green, for the eyes) over black, but I have gotten past the sticking point. This urn is made of white earthenware clay. I normally work in stoneware, but it was important that the colors be true, and stay where I put them, so I made the switch to low-fire. Will re-bisque to vitrify the undergalze, and then fire a final time, glazed in Portland Pottery's electric kiln.
One nice thing about platters is that I get a larger surface to decorate. Though I often use a single large stamp as a focal point, this time I went with an overall, wallpaper design. It actually looks a little wallpaperish, perhaps in a Victorian home.
I made the roller of clay. It works best bisqued, because if I leave it green, it falls apart relatively quickly. Some potters see this as a plus, as it forces them to remake their decorative tools regularly; but I get too attached to mine. I hate reaching for a stamp or a roller, only to find that is has a big chip out of it. The little squiggle you can see in the photo above the slip bottle is a bit of wire I use as a stopper; that way I can store the slip (or glaze, depending) right in the bottle without having the tip clog up.
Expected firing schedule: Bisquing Thanksgiving Day (Doug's gonna have to be in charge of that one, as I will have my hands full of turkey, turnip, pies, and so on); glaze firing December 5, unloading December 6. Do you ever have a terrible temptation to do what you know hardly ever works? I am dying to glaze only the middle spiral, and let the soda work its magic on the rest, because the contrast of the clay & slip can be so handsome. But in my experience, soda doesn't take to the horizontal surface that well, and firing them on end has resulted in major warpage in past. Still, I've got plenty of time to decide.
Maybe I should do "100 Platters in 100 Days!" Yeah, right.
...it's everything. Remember Boxer, the horse from Orwell's Animal Farm, whose response to every problem was "I will work harder?" Sometimes I feel like Boxer. Just when I get a little caught up, boom! The car, or the house, or the pets need a major expenditure. I guess I should be thanking my lucky ones that the expenditures have not been anything medical. Small favors, and all But why are they so small?
Just found out I need a new roof, sooner than later. And the chimney needs...pointing, or whatever it is they do to chimneys. I am shooting for spring, as any sooner seems unlikely (read: completely impossible.) Doug and I can do a lot of stuff ourselves; my bathroom sink is, at this posting, disassembled on the floor in an effort to correct a recalcitrant clog. Roofing is not in our skill set.
So, you know, I will work harder. Make more and bigger things, seek out more outlets. It's a blessing, if it pushes me to spend more time in the studio. At least, I am sure I will feel that way tomorrow.
I haven't got any new work of my own (not finished, anyway), so I decided to post some images of pots by my current clay crushes. As I have been before, I am struck by how different the pots that I like to see are from the pots that I like to make. I do try to identify qualities that twang my magic twanger (aesthetically speaking) and incorporate them, but blessedly, they usually emerge from the process unrecognizable.
I had a whole bunch of same-size lids to trim -- a recurrent circumstance. Normally, I place the leatherhard lid on its corresponding pot, and re-center both on the wheel before I trim the lid to its final shape. This time I tried a different way to see if it would be quicker, and it is, much! I centered a hump of clay with an exterior diameter at the top a little less than the interior diameter of the lid. I carefully ribbed off any water or slurry, and then placed each lid in turn to be trimmed on the centered hump of clay. This method saves time as there is no need to re-center: when the lid is placed on the hump, it's automatically on center. It has the disadvantage that you can't see what the finished combined shape of lid and pot together will be, but in this case, I was making my standing cat-urn order; I've made so many of these things I could do them in my sleep. Speed is of the essense, as well, as I sell them to my client at a deep discount (better than wholesale), so the quicker I can turn them out, the better. Though they don't fetch very much, this order is worthwhile to me because the vet's office never tries to order specific colors, shapes, or decoration; they only care that the jars be appropriate containers for cremains. I often use them to test new glazes and stamps, and to break in new metal ribs.
There's just no way around it. I am devoting tomorrow to doing all the dreary things that I have been needing to do for a while, and have put off to the point that I am now dreading them:
1) Finish that custom order, which will be the last custom order I ever take, ever, ever, ever, ever.
2) Pack pots for shipping. Why is packing so tiresome? Answer: Nobody knows. It just is.
3) Fix the Toilet of Eternal Leakage.
and
4) Install a duct on my perfectly good dryer, which is just sitting there unused because I am too chicken to drill a hole in my wall.
Yes, tomorrow will indeed suck; but by sacrificing this one day, I will improve all the days that follow after it. Good deal!
A student, Martha Mixon, recently brought in some slab plates she had been working on using these square cardboard plates that you can buy at the grocery store. My version is in B-mix 10, and carries the impression of a lace doily on half of the plate.
This is not a new idea, of course, and I have used it often with kids' classes, but I had forgotten about it, and the shape is new. I like square plates better than round, anyway, and if I am going to make round plates, the wheel is a better choice. The key to slab work, IMHO, is to keep the slabs nice and thick -- thicker than your first inclination, by a lot. So many slab-built pots -- plates and platter especially - end up feeling flimsy, fragile, and cheap, just because they are too thin.
I press the slab into the cardboard mold using a sock filled with sand, and wrapped in an old bit of nylon hose. This avoids (mostly) causing lumpy fingerprints that have to be tediously ribbed out afterwards. It's also important, once the plates are leatherhard, to remove them from the molds and lightly paddle the edges, to help prevent cracking.
Thanks Martha! I am thinking of celadon for these; or else copper red in the texture only, and otherwise, just soda: a riskier choice, as my reds have not developed well in the soda kiln. But if it turned out...
I did something quite out of character today. While tethering my dog behind a convenience store, I noticed a vignette that struck me. A beautiful vine dotted with brilliant red berries and golden fall foliage climbed around a prosaically dull meter in a corner where some graffiti had sprouted. Something about it twanged the same twanger that I sometimes feel looking at thrown and altered work; something about the tension between the contrasts of organic and mechanical.
Normally I would have made a mental note of it, taken a moment to enjoy it, and gone on with my day. But lately I have been playing with my husband's camera, for more than just pottery shots. I wouldn't call myself a photographer, but sometimes I point the camera at things and press the button. I felt a little silly (in a classic Yankee who-do-you-think-you-are kind of way) but I let Doug's example inspire me: he would never feel like he had to explain why an image was important to him, nor let errands get in the way of a creative moment; much less worry that the Big Apple clerks would think he was weird.
So I went back to the house and got the camera and took a few shots. This one is the best. I am pleased not just with the photo, but with myself for honoring creativity wherever it presents itself.
I have finally reached the last stage of work on this custom order. Strangely, I found that I was - I don't know - superstitious? about photographing the urn while Allegro's markings were visible. It seemed too intimate, as though I were invading her privacy. She is gone, of course, and this is a bit of ceramic material, so maybe I am completely silly. In any case I chose to respect the feeling. 
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