Celadon and Cookies

It took a while to get those white slipped on red clay bowls into the fire.  And the results were, em, not what I expected.  Delusions abound.

Faceted, incised, and ordinary bowls

Celadon makes for a nice glaze.  But over a white slip, everything gets muted.  The red clay just greys out.  A real potter would have done some testing.  The fun scraffito that was so full of contrast, the white slip against the red clay, has toned down.

 Derrek said, "Wow.  How Korean."  I had no idea.  But then, people say I don't look Mexican until I open my mouth, then they aren't so sure.

Didn't expect the warp, either.  Expectations can be a trap.  I tend to listen with my eyes, and watch with my ears, and that's not always the best idea.  Perception, like pots, is a rather empty business until you fill it up with some stuff—usually delusion, but sometimes: cookies.

I also find that taking pictures of pots is not easy.  Those pros on Etsy, the really good potters, spend a lot of time taking smart, clear pictures of their pots.  The mobile phone is handy, but it doesn't quite get the job done.

Tall Forms, Small Details

I was standing up at the wheel, and Tim came over and glared at me.

"Hey.  If you were in the Tim D. class, you'd be in deep trouble, now."

"Oh.  Standing at the wheel?" I didn't have to try to sound sheepish.  I really was blushing.

"Yeah.  A couple reasons.  One, that cement weight is spinning; you could fall.  The other thing is that there are better ways to throw big forms."

Now, where the heck did I get the idea that I had to stand to get my arm into a tall cylender?  Around here, no one ever stands up.  Well, Gene might, but not at a kickweel, for certain.

So, I got a tutorial in tall-form throwing.  My hand position was off.  I was in contact with too much clay, I'm throwing a bit too wet, and my rib technique needed a serious update.  Necking in the pot is something I thought I could do, but again, too much hand in contact with the pot when finger tips do the job much better.

I had the cylender up high enough, but walls were uneven.  Tim helped me clean it up, got me to lighten up on my rib and think about what my inside-the-pot hand is really doing, in there.

I'd be happier if the sides didn't have a slight bulge at the bottom, but I can trim that clean, later, if I'm careful.

The next three or four of these bigger jars will be better than this one.  Eventually.  And I won't be standing at the wheel any more, or a certain instructor will have me sweeping floors all week.  There are worse things than sweeping floors, but I'd rather be throwing taller forms.