End of the Week + Dromedary Potterary.

Happy Friday, everyone!  I'm going to make this a brief as possible, for my own sake.  Because while Friday doesn't mean much to those currently underemployed, it does mean something to my wife.  So, I'm going to type really quickly (as quickly as I possibly and accurately can!) and you read it really quickly and I'll try to use a spare amount of short words, rather than the usual copious verbosity I tend toward.  By doing all these things, we'll be done in no time at all.  Ready?  Let's go!

I hunkered down into my studio for a few hours this afternoon to get back to work on my test-bowls, etc.  But perhaps I should rewind for a moment, and share that I spent some time in the studio yesterday, too.  I actually didn't do any throwing, but I did trim all my little bowls fom the other day.  I also committed myself to the grueling task of making slip.  Painful, but necessary.  So that's (mostly) what happened in the studio yesterday.  Trimmed, slipped, trimmed, slipped.  I was able to come back to the bowls in the evening after the slip had dried and carved them while finishing up Season 2 of Lie to Me on Netflix with my darling.  It's awful nice to be able to do that sort of multitasking.  I think there may be more of it in the future, as long as Krystal allows it.  Also, Lie to Me is brilliant, if not a little too intense for regular enjoyable viewing immediately before bed.

Note blue-slipped bowls in there.  Fun, huh?

Let's track back to today, now.  Before I got all messy and clay covered I committed a little bit of time to making my own little basement corner studio a little bit more comfortable.  I've got some nifty little cork boards with pictures of friends and family and pots and stuff like that.  It's much more pleasant than staring at the whitewashed foundation.  So maybe it's also a little sappy, but I like it.  And that's what matters.

So much cozier now.

Then it was time to get back into the throwing.  Of course, a kiln full of testwares wouldn't be any good without a few of my interior-decorated bowls, so I made a few of those.  I may add another three to the mix, just to make sure I get a couple results for each glaze tested on them.  

Blue slip!  Feels like home.

Two more for the road.

 After that it was back to the little bowls.  For efficiency's sake I went back to throwing off the hump on today's batch, and I remembered to document it, photojournalist style.  I now present to you Dromedary Potterary a.k.a. Camel Pottery a.k.a. Throwing Off a Hump.  Get it? 

To begin with, the basic idea of throwing off of a hump is this: rather than centering a new ball of clay for every piece, you start with one larger amount of clay (the hump) and throw smaller pieces from the top portion of said hump, cutting them off and recentering as needed until all the clay has been used.  This works very well for some things (small bowls, for example) and not so well for others (large platters and floor vases come to mind).  Follow along with the pictures to see it in action!

I started today with a little over nine pounds of clay.  I've already thrown a few bowls at this point.  While it's helpful to have the bulk of the clay mass well centered, you can be a little more lax with it at the start, as the only clay you really work with at any one time is the bit right at the top.

To start a new bowl, I centered the top bit of the clay - roughly the amount I think I want to work into a bowl.  By collaring in a pretty narrow amount, it helps to make sure there's not too much clay in the foot when it's cut off the hump.

After centering the top "bulb" of clay on the hump, I proceed like normal, opening, pulling, and shaping the bowl.  If you'd like to see the entire process of throwing a bowl, you can check it out in this post I wrote here.

This is just me ribbing out the bowl, from a different vantage point.  Note the nice shape of the foot on top of the hump, much as it would appear right on the bat.



To remove the bowl from the hump, I use the dull edge of a knife, cutting off enough clay to put a reasonable foot on the bowl.  This step comes as about the one piece of technical pottery advise my Uncle Tim ever gave me, was to use a knife to get pots off the hump.  I'm sure there are plenty of other ways to do it, but Tim told me that a very dull knife was the best tool for the job.  I cut in while the wheel turns, easing the knife toward the center in so as not to displace too clay matter.

 

Voila, a bowl on a knife! Ready to be set aside to dry for trimming!



Today's bowls.  Nine pounds yielded ten bowls today, which is a pretty good ratio.

There you have it.  It's not a perfect method.  The transfer on the knife blade is a little touchy - much more likely to end up with a warped rim, or just not quite round bowl.  But the efficiency in production sure makes up for any effort that might be lost on a piece that doesn't turn out just right.  It's a hard balance to find, but that's the way it goes sometimes.  In the meantime, it's a perfect method for turning out dozens of little bowls for testing glazes on. 

That is officially it from me for this week.  I shall catch you on the flipside.

Punctual Friday Update: Plate, Pots, Memorial Show

Unlike last week, where I began a post on Friday and didn't put it up until Monday, this one is actually on time.  I'm going to begin on a low note:

Circled there in red is a crack.  A crack that goes all the way through to the bottom of the plate.  A crack that renders this piece ruined.  This is one of those times where you can't necessarily account for what went wrong.  I don't think this crack was there when I moved it to the firing shelf, which means that I didn't trim/dry it too fast.  However, it is possible that it still wasn't quite dry enough at the time of firing.  Breaking this plate (because, hey, it can't be finished, and breaking stuff is fun, right?) revealed that it was evenly thrown and not unnecessarily thick in the cracked portion, though perhaps a little thicker than it needed to be.  I'd say this plate was pretty evenly 3/8" thick, which is reasonable for a pot this size, although 1/4" would have been a better choice.  The good news is that this was the smallest of the three large plates shown here.

So that's what I walked into the studio on Tuesday night to discover, and it kind of soured me on pottery for the week, but I still put in a decent effort on producing some more new work.  I failed to get any photos for most of the week, which included throwing and trimming some large white bowls, throwing a half-dozen nice-sized vases/jars, and recycled 25 pounds of clay.

I didn't take any pictures of the recycled clay, as exciting as that may have been for you.  Here are the pictures I got last night:

Jars/vases waiting for some decoration, and another baby vase.

 Mountain pots - if I figure out how to glaze them, I think they'll be sweet.

So, that's what I've been working on this week.  I think I'm stoked about these new designs.  I think I'll be applying them to more pots, after I make said pots, with said recycled clay.  Maybe some little mountain tumblers? 

One more thing before I sign off for the weekend - if you find yourself in the tri-state(IA/MN/WI) area anytime before November 1st, do yourself a favor and swing by Decorah to see Life's Work: The Tim Langholz Memorial Show on exhibit at the Hotel Winneshiek.  Tim was an amazing gifted potter, and my uncle, whom I wrote about here.  The opening is this weekend, and what I wouldn't give to be there.  I think that's about all I can say about it here, and right now.  Check out the above links for more about Tim.

Tim at work.

About an uncle.

I was in the studio last night for a little while, most of which was spent in a meeting regarding our upcoming Guild fundraiser event. Not the way I like my time to be spent generally, but being there was the responsible thing to do. I'll try to convince myself it was worth it.

I spent some time working on a couple chalices, one of which will be part of a communion set order, as well as the paten, or plate, to accompany it. I also finished up another one of my vases and glazed a couple of pieces. I forgot to take my camera, so no pictures. Sorry. Maybe next time.

Also on the agenda in the near future is the necessary shooting and posting of new work. I did come home from the studio with a half dozen freshly fired pieces last week, and there was a batch of work at the end of April that went straight to sale without photography. Sadly, I still have most of those!

In the meantime, here's a pot that I didn't make. This is a piece by my late uncle, Timothy Langholz. Tim was an extremely gifted artist and a prolific potter, selling his wares nationally at fine arts and crafts festivals. Tim's work was extremely unique, and decorated with a geometric precision that makes my head hurt. This piece is titled "Hiding Cat," and is featured on his website, which his family has kept online in his memory.

I had the opportunity to "work" with Tim on two distinct occasions - work used lightly, as work and play were never clear distinctions in Tim's world.

First, when I was thirteen, I spent a day with Tim in his rural studio in Northeast Iowa. I tried my hand at the wheel, which was quite unsuccessful, and then spent the better part of an afternoon decorating a trio of large chargers that Tim had thrown earlier that week. One of these is in our home and will be for a long time, and the other two I believe are still in my parents' possession.

Last, Tim invited me to accompany him in July 2008 while he exhibited at the Cherry Creek Art Festival in Denver. I spent four days with him, setting up, tending booth, making friends with our neighbors. It was an amazing experience of fun and learning, and hard work. Tim wasn't sure what my duties would be in helping him out - he told me originally that my primary responsibility was to provide him company and help allay the boredom and anxiety that can creep up on you if a sale is slow.

I must not have been too bad of a helping hand. The first day started pretty menially - fetching coffee, carrying bins of pots, unloading bins of pots, storing bins of pots... A few hours in he was letting me handle most sales - while I was dealing with money and packing up purchased pottery, he could converse freely with newfound patrons. By that afternoon, he would leave me for 10 or 15 minutes at a time to man the booth while he perused the neighboring artists.

By midmorning the next day, I would turn around and find Tim missing without a word - fully entrusted with his tent and his pots. Sometimes he'd be gone an hour at a time. By setup on the third day, he was letting me price his work and arrange the display in the tent. My grandmother, who lived in the same town as Tim, later told me that he talked for weeks about how much fun it was to have me around, and how helpful I was. I'm glad he told her so.

I learned a lot that weekend - about what it takes to be a successful artist, the work and stress that accompanies a show, how to relate to those who appreciate your work. He called that, "Poking people, to see what kind of noise they'll make." Sometimes they're intrigued by you, or your work. And sometimes you get a scowl as they scutter away. I learned more about he proper display of work, about the adequate care and feeding of pots whilst on the road. I learned a few little games that can help you pass the time on a hot July day.

When Tim passed away last fall, I kept coming back to my recollections of that weekend in Denver, and all the people we met, all the people who took his pots home. Many brief interactions, and some lifelong connections. A woman who had bought work from Tim in Minnesota, and Arizona, and found him in Colorado. A young man just passing through on his way to a friend's wedding cross-country who couldn't pass up the vase featuring the cat-butt. Garry, the photographer 2 tents town who praised us for our strong, German surname. Every person who lined up a dozen tiny bowls comparing and contrasting the designs, trying to find the right match. The folks that couldn't buy anything, but were amazed by his work and so interested in talking with us about the pottery.

Such small interactions, such important connections. To share your work, your art, your passion, with another person - to relate, to converse, to send home with them a piece of yourself in clay form - this is what is amazing about being the artist. Whether you sell two pots or two hundred, whether it's a $500 vase or a mug you pass on to a friend, complimentary. I think these connections are what it's all about.

Tim definitely made that connection with the people who own his pots. He is, and will be, greatly missed.

(Thanks for indulging me in my lunch-hour cathartic experience.)