What five years of throwing on the wheel taught me
There is a version of this that is much more complicated. This is not that version. The specifics matter less than the practice of paying attention. For a long time I treated slip decoration as an afterthought.
The short version
Every firing is a little experiment, and some of them fail. The best advice I got was plainly to slow down. I tested the thrown version first. It did not last. A friend once described tableware as quiet work, and the phrase stuck. Little, repeatable steps beat big plans very nearly every time.
What changed
I keep a short list of things to try next; wedging clay is near the top. The matte part is seldom the hard part; consistency is. Some of this will be self-evident; some of it took me years. Clay remembers every mistake you make with it. Test tiles are boring until one of them changes all of it.
Looking back, the matte approach was the right call. It is easy to overthink testing glazes. It is harder to just start. Somewhere between the weekend market and home, the idea finally made sense.
- Leave room for earthy mistakes
- Do less loading the kiln, more throwing on the wheel
- Revisit bowls after a week
The middle part
You can get remarkably far with an electric kiln and some patience. For a long time I treated the wheel as an afterthought. The glaze looked grey in the bucket and came out deep blue. I tested the speckled version first. It did not last. Good the wheel is largely a series of little, unglamorous decisions.
Somewhere between the kiln shed and home, the idea finally made sense. I am still not sure I have it right, but it is closer. Looking back, the thrown approach was the right call. You can get remarkably far with a glaze scale and some patience. Nothing here requires a glaze scale, though it does make things easier.
tableware