Spinning Madly On

Red Terra Sigillata functions exactly as the white stuff, but offers a deeper range of colors by offering  a dark “base” to the stains.  It also gives the option to seal foot rings and other non-glazed areas in a natural “red clay body” tone.   The first time I made Red Sig was a year or two into using the XX Sagger based recipe and expected the process to be similar.

Red Terra Sigillata

6 pints (12 cups) water

3 tsp. sodium silicate

3 3/4 lbs of Red Art Clay (1701 grams)

Mix water and sodium silicate.  Weight out the clay and add a little at a time, mixing with a jiffy mixer blade as you go until everything is smooth.  Let sit a day or until a specific gravity of 1.15 is reached.

Seemed simple enough.  Mixed the stuff up and let it sit a day to concentrate.  At that point, I checked the specific gravity and was quite surprised to find it on par with WATER.  No worries – I just gave it another day.   And another . . . and another . . . and another.  After 4 or 5 days, I watched the volume go down but the specific gravity was not even close!   The XX Sagger recipe concentrates enough to meet the specific gravity  requirement in less than 24 hours and so I was beginning to wonder if I had somehow mixed it wrong.

When the volume of the clay suspension had decreased by half, I moved the solution into an old crock pot, and started cooking the stuff on low to try to speed up the evaporation/concentration.   I continued to check the specific gravity every couple of hours for another DAY . . .watching the volume reduce even more but still not reach 1.15 on a hydrometer.  Clearly, it was time to stand firmly on the shoulders of giants.  I started digging in my library  and  found the answer in a small paragraph at the bottom of Vince Pitelka’s studio handbook.

“Different clays have varying particle size and therefore will yield greater or lesser amounts of fine particulate.  Ball clays are extremely fine, and up to 60% of the original dry batch may end up as sigillata. Earthenware clays like Redart or stoneware clays like Goldart will yield less, usually only about a 25-35% of the original dry amount.”

Vince Pitelka, Clay:  A Studio Handbook, p. 111.

By the time the correct concentration was reached,  about 2 gallons of solution yielded less than 1 quart of terra sig . . . and it took a week to make!

The stuff is liquid gold!  It is well worth the effort but takes a little more time.

Continue reading ‘Skimming the Surface, part 2 (white terra sigillata)’

Here are some final pics from my last firing.   The big excitement is in achieving professional quality photos without exposure editing by strategically placing 300 watt light bulbs in ceramic socket work lights, using diffusers made with foam core and light weight interfacing from the fabric store,  and setting a custom white balance on my camera.   It really does work!  (Thanks John Britt and Joy Tanner for teaching me – whoo-hoo!)  The dynamic duo teaches an awesome workshop if you  wanna learn how.  (not to mention Joy provides the perfect calming influence on John’s . . . um. . . energy)

Unloading the bisque fire and am happy with the results.  I pushed the firing faster than usual to ensure some additional work was ready for The Pie Hole.    I’m very happy with the pie plates, as they are not a piece I usually make.  I like how they stack together.  They weight will serve well for use in the oven.  I also changed my sugar bowl to be longer so a spoon scoops easier from it . .  .and added a tray.   Not sure if the patterns on the tray might be too much with the pattern on the pieces, but we shall see.  If I don’t care for it after glazing, I can always put the patterned creamer and sugars on plainer trays. . . plainer creamer and sugars on the patterned ones.   Also in this load are some french onion soup bowls and a new form for my spice jars.  Looking forward to seeing these pieces come through the glaze firing.   I only had one casualty – and I think that was really a compression issue when I made the plate.  Happy overall.  

Texture . . . . I really enjoy making my own stamps.  I am inspired by textures found in nature (bark,  stones, shells)  as well as the more formal motifs from old fabrics.  My favorite stamp making material is bits of  old porcelain clay, shaped into discs or small blocks that I can then carve into at the leather hard stage , and finish with a bisque firing.  I find they are very strong (even when dropped on the concrete floor of my studio ), and also accept a very fine detail line.

I look for interesting patterns to carve into the porcelain blanks.   This is an example of a batik pattern printed on paper.  I really enjoyed the irregular circle shape and felt the pattern within the circle would make for interesting texture.  At the top right is the stamp inspired by the pattern.  The bottom right shows the stamp pressed into soft clay. And then finally, an image from a finished piece showing the stamp used as the center of a flower.   I like how each step along the way is a further departure from the original source material.  Inspired . . . but not copied.

I recently spent an afternoon with my friend, Jaya Padmanabhan from India.   She shared with me her collection of authentic Indian Wood Block stamps (used for batik) and discussed some traditional Indian patterns.  I enjoyed talking with her about motifs important to her culture, such as the lotus, elephant, monkey, peacock, and tree of life.  Im excited about the possibilities of turning some of these motifs into stamps.

I am sometimes asked to donate work for silent auctions and am often asked to bring my pottery skills into the schools. But, this is the first time I was asked to do one in the same.  I am so excited about the project!

The task was to come up with a “student” made class piece to be offered as a donation for the school’s silent auction.  So, together with the 5th grade students, we designed a vase form, made a template, and prepared the clay.

It began as a very large rectangle slab whose surface was sectioned off into a grid whereby each of 27 students choose a space and made it “their own design” complete with name or initials.  After that, we carefully folded it into an oval, pressed the front seam, and cut darts to form the curves on each side at the top and bottom.    Then, we brainstormed how we were gonna prop this monster up while it dried a bit!!!   Lastly, back in my studio, I added a slab bottom and a coil to the top.

The kids were so enthusiastic about the project and did a really wonderful job offering creative ideas and making their space on the vase unique.  It is amazing how the appeal of “stamping” into a soft slab never gets old.   I plan to finish the surface by using a black underglaze wash (wiped away) and then applying a limited palette of terra sig  to offer some color to accent some of the texture.    

The New Year brings with it resolutions to do better . . .

One of mine is to post more regularly to this blog.  Truth be told, I have a love/hate relationship with it.  I love how it connects me with other potters and people who love my work.  The encouragement and tips offered have been wonderful.  I have also sold more work from my blog than most shows I participate in, and, I really enjoy a more direct exchange with those who love my work.  But . . . I hate posting.  Okay, I said it.  It’s true.

It’s like this . . . when I am flowing well in my studio, the very last thing I want to do is stop and get on my computer.  But that is the very time I should because enthusiasm is high and everything is fresh in my mind.  But when I do, the gear change causes me to lose flow.   Clay and computers don’t mix, not to mention the concrete walls that surround my studio make the wireless signal impossible to find.  I rarely even get cell phone service in there – LOL.  This isolation is wonderful in that it keeps distractions at a minimum.  Instead, they come in the form of real live children who are hungry, tired, fighting with a sibling, or need a ride.

So, to post on this blog, I leave the studio.  I re-enter The House (where laundry, and cooking, and cleaning, and homework help calls).    And so, by the time I get back to my studio, I rarely seem able to pick up where I left off.  There is an indeterminate period of finding my place again.  And I hate that.   And so then, when life throws me too many curves, I have avoided my blog as one more thing to disrupt flow.  My temperament is to IMMERSE myself in flow. . . it is a long-standing battle to fight against that as I try to work in short bursts.

In the time since my last post (um . . . 3+ months ago),  I had 3 kids playing Fall sports (practices and games 7 days a week), my spouse became gravely ill with an MRSA Infection (2 weeks of serious illness, then 5 days in the hospital admitted through the emergency room, came home with a PICC line and IV for 4 more weeks), 2 surgeries for him, Thanksgiving, a week long visit from in-laws, Christmas, a ski trip, and we bought a used Mini Cooper (out-of-state) for the Soon To Be 16 Year Old.   Today, everyone is finally back at school and work . . . healthy and happy.  Okay, the kids are not happy to be back at school. . . (Im happy!)

During my Anti Blog period, I came across a series of articles by Lana Wilson published in Clay Times discussing the unique challenge of raising children and balancing a career in clay.  It seems my struggle is not unique (although I never want another Fall like last Fall!)   Lana’s thoughts are truly inspirational.  If you are struggling with a similar challenge with balance,  I encourage you to read her thoughts.

My intent in 2010 is to schedule just an hour, once a week, to write/photograph and post what is going on in my studio.  I can’t promise you it will be earth shattering, but I hope it will build a better feeling of mutual support between me and  you.

I wish you all the time and energy and flow to meet your goals this year!  Happy 2010!

Yesterday, I spent the day with Japanese potter Hatori Yasumi.   She demonstrated her processes at Piedmont College in Demorest, GA, north of Atlanta.  It was a long drive on a rainy day, but well worth it as I had been in need of  her exact type of inspiration.  Sometimes, I struggle to maintain a connection with my own voice and sense of purpose with my passion for clay . . . my daily commitment of raising three children can sometimes drown it out.

Observing a potter from another country, especially Japan, is an incredible experience.  Potters are revered in that culture and so there exists a feeling a dignity to their work and process that is palpable.  Yusami comes from a village of 50 potters who work full time in their craft.   The value of the work is such that 100,000 people come over the course of three days to purchase the pottery when her village (pop. 10,000) has their annual pottery sale.  Watching her work, there was this peaceful, unhurried acceptance in her process . . . from the rhythmic strokes . . 50 one way . . . 50 another as she knelt on the floor to wedge her clay . . .  to the time taken to  center one large mound and throwing unmeasured cups off the hump . .  . or the marks she left to tell the story of the pot .  No smoothing,  fixing,  or endless adjusting.

In America, we are often consumed with the drive to be “perfect”, or to keep “improving” . . . an endless dissatisfaction and drive to make it “better.”   This reflects in everything about our culture, down to and including our pottery tools.  I found a beauty in the simplicity of Yasumi few, simple handmade tools, carefully cleaned after each use, and layed to dry on her cloth.  I smiled to see her use the same wooden knife to trim the foot of a cup, and cut a rim of a slab built basket.   (I have been caught in the trap  of thinking I “need” yet another tool. .  .)

In Japan, there exists a profound value for the intrinsic beauty of the material . . . and in allowing the process to inform.  ”Wabi Sabi” is an important, even essential influence. .  . it’s the finding of beauty in the imperfections . .. more even, that beauty cannot be found in the perfect, the blemish free.   The appreciation of the pot is in the subtly of the scars or marks that show the journey, from the  impuritiies found in the clay dug from the hillside in their local village . . . to marks left by the maker’s hands, a finger print, or a tool mark . . .  to the glazing and firing process, perhaps the  pattern left in  one spot from where the pot rested on  rice hulls in a post firing reduction,  or the flame pattern from the wood used in the anagama firing).  The beauty exists in what some might see as “wrong’ with the pot.  It’s found in the intimacy of that information. . . . and the dialog this creates between the pot and the user.

Today I am feeling peaceful with the process. . . . whether it be my struggle to make beautiful pots. . . or my struggle to get to the studio when kids need everything kids need.   Somehow, it makes whatever I produce (good kids or good pots) that much more precious and meaningful.  Thank you  Hatori Yasumi for reminding me.  Peace be with you.

I cannot seem to get enough of bowls!  I love this form because of it’s simplicity and versatility.  It is beautiful serving food, or sitting on a shelf, or just holding a collection of stuff.    I love throwing nesting bowls . . . the challenge of repeating the curve of the belly three different times in varying sizes is fun.  But, lately, I have been into this slab built, darted bowl.

My first idea for the form came from a hand made silver bowl I received many years ago as a wedding gift.  I loved the contemporary shape, but the metal seemed too formal and cold for everyday use.  So, I began with measuring the circumference  (the widest point) and height and translated that to a flat, rectangular template.

This particular square bowl takes a 5 lb chunk of clay that I wedge first, and then smack down onto the table, one side at a time until it takes on a block shape (no round balls of clay for making slabs).  I strive to have one side of the block be approximately the height of the slab I need because when I start throwing it down, I will do so with the end I wish to get longer.  Next, I throw/roll out my slab.  I don’t have a slab roller.  I feel this method works really well for me (and is fun).

I start by tossing (more flinging) it onto my work table at an angle so its own weight causes the block to elongate.  I repeat this, in both directions of one opposite end (dont want it to get wider . . . just longer) until I have a long, thick slab that is starting to become difficult to pick up.  The size and shape of my template guides the “throwing.”  If I were making a form that had began with a square slab, I would be “tossing” my slab for both length and width.  This one takes a really, really long rectangle.

Once I have the slab about as long as I can get it and still pick it up without stretching it out, I transfer it to a fresh board to continue elongating it with a rolling pin.  I like to throw my slabs on finish grade sanded boards.  The boards are absorbant smooth, keeping the clay from sticking or picking up undesired texture.   For this bowl,  I move to a 3′ ware shelf because my slab will become very long.

Next, I use a specific thickness of wooden sticks to ensure an even thickness.  How thick depends on the size of your finished piece (the larger the thicker) and what type of clay you use.  When I was working in porcelain, I could go really thin because of its fired strength.  In earthenware, I like it thicker.  I prefer the visual weight a thicker wall gives an earthenware piece.  I roll the slab both directions, and if it starts to stick to the board, then I flip it over . . . very gingerly. . . trying not to stretch the spots on the slab where my fingers are.  If making many of these on one day, I will use a piece of an old soft bedsheet (like a sling) to support the clay.

Eventually, the slab becomes long enough for my template.   Im not sure if the photo shows it well, but I write little notes to myself on it in regular pencil (or if Im really lucky, a WHITE one . . . my eyes these days prefer the white lead).  I name the form, include the finished dimensions, the weight of the “block” to start with, and the size and type of any darts I will put in.  This way, when I dig through my stack of templates, I am the least confused I can possibly be.   (when I am into “versions” of the same piece . . . leading to “versions” of  similar templates, things get really sketchy. . . )

Finally, when I’ve rolled the clay out as far as it will go, preserving the slab thickness I want, I cut the shape with an exacto knife or some other crazy knife (I have a  knife collection . . . another topic).  Really, use anything with a straight blade that is sharper than a fettling knife.  The blade on that one is too thick, in my opinion, for this job.  I also roll out a slab of the same thickness to be used later for the bottom of the bowl.  Wrap this one in plastic until it’s time to use.

The next step is to add any surface texture I may want  with stamps or other mark making tools.  Then, I bevel the short ends, score and slip and butt them together.  I like the seam to show as much as possible, so I use a  technique where I gently slip/slide  the two ends in a very tiny movement until I feel the clay particles lock.  It is very subtle.  The ends do not need to be “smooshed” together.  I want to preserve the integrity of the seam line.  I am looking for the ends to “join” . . . and I achieve this from that “lock” that is felt when I slip it together just right.

Next, I add darts at the corners and attach the bottom.  Then, I place wrap it in plastic overnight to allow the seams to really take hold and the whole thing to set up.  The next day, I unwrap the piece (the seams and darts will be very strong) and stretch some “volume” into the shape with my fingers.  This is my very favorite  steps. . . . I feel like it breathes the life into a slab built form.

I hope you enjoyed the process!