The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
My Neo-Istoriato series re-imagines and continues the tradition of narrative tin-glazed earthenware or maiolica ceramics that began in Europe in the Middle Ages.
I was first introduced to maiolica through my experience as a student at Sheridan College’s School of Craft and Design, where making a forty-pound maiolica platter was a famous and confidence-building project for first-year students. I was immediately drawn to the narrative history of European tin-glazed earthenware, and particularly the wares made during the Renaissance in Italy called istoriato ware, meaning “story painted.”
Maiolica wares were created as a reaction to the influx of Chinese porcelain ceramics flooding into Europe in the Renaissance. European makers did not possess the technology to make porcelain, so polychrome, tin-glazed earthenware was perfected to fake it. The pots, plates, and figurines acted as a vehicle for communicating important myths, mores, and folk legends of the time, with stories from Greek and Roman mythology, the Bible, and family histories being popular subjects. Because majolica ware begins with a foundation of a fatty, stable white glaze, oxides or colorants can be painted on and layered to create complex patterns and illustrations able to withstand the glaze firing. I see my long-running series as a continuation of that tradition with a critical eye to retelling stories and histories from the past through a feminist, pro-earthist lens that reveals and challenges the foundational stories that have shaped Western culture.
That summer after my first year at Sheridan, I was lucky to participate in a workshop with Walter Ostrom. Ostrom’s approach to being inspired by not just the material seduction of clay and glaze, but the history of ceramics convinced me that I needed to work with this person, and I went on to Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, where my exploration of maiolica continued and I honed my narrative voice and approach to the technique.
Over the past twenty years, I have experimented with maiolica and found my way with a technique that gives and takes away in equal measure. But for whatever reason, my attraction to its history and mystery continues. There’s nothing quite like the beauty and depth of the fired surface on a piece of maiolica.
To begin, an opaque white glaze must be applied to the surface of a bisque-fired earthenware vessel (1). While you could use other earthenware recipes, red earthenware is the traditional choice, glaze fired within the low-fire temperature range. There is debate amongst those of us who work in this technique about its optimum application, with most people agreeing that dipping is the best way to apply the maiolica glaze. For smaller objects, I tend to agree that dipping is best, but because I work alone and the scale of my work has increased, I have found it challenging in my own studio. My solution is to brush three coats of a white slip onto my larger pieces at the leather-hard stage, and then brush the maiolica glaze over top in a thin layer after bisque firing to cone 04. This way, I can still maintain a solid white ground without worrying about a streaky brush application. Recently, inspired by artists like Matt Weddell and Niki Green, I have been experimenting with a messier and more painterly application that is less interested in solid coverage of the maiolica glaze.
Once the glaze is applied to the bisque-fired surface, fixing it in place and creating a smooth painting surface (if not achieved through dipping) is very important. Maiolica is a great glaze for painting on because it doesn’t melt or flow much at all in the glaze firing, but this makes it rigid and unforgiving when applying. I have found that the thinner the glaze application, the better. Hand sanding eliminates any potential pinholes, drips, or bumps that would show up on the fired surface, so I very gently smooth the surface with my fingers like I’m using a pencil eraser. I prefer to wait until the glaze is dry enough, but still has enough moisture in it that it won’t create a lot of glaze dust in the studio.
Applying a CMC gum solution hardens the powdery glaze surface and makes it easier to draw on with pencil. My CMC gum solution is 3% CMC gum to water, though honestly, I never measure it, and simply add a couple of tablespoons of CMC gum to five cups of boiling water at a time. Once the gum dissolves and feels slightly slimy to the touch, I let it cool and add it to a plastic spray bottle. I then apply three sprayed layers, allowing the slightly rehydrated glaze to dry between each application and wait 24 hours before starting to map out my illustrations (1). If after 24 hours I cannot easily draw on the surface, I spray another layer of gum solution, then let it dry and cure again. This mixture keeps long term, so I only make up this solution when I run out. You can definitely overdo it with the sprayed gum solution, and I have had that show up in my glazed surface as spray marks that resist color. It’s visually difficult to tell if you’ve over-gummed, so only use as much gum as needed to comfortably draw on the glaze surface with graphite.
I work in my sketchbook very loosely to map out my composition. I used to use a lot of paper cut-outs of my drawings to arrange compositions, but I do this less and less as I grow more confident in composing my images. I keep vast collections of historical imagery and draw on these images to create new stories. Sometimes, I take a historical image and just tweak one or two things to change the message, often to contradict ingrained attitudes about women, death, or the natural world. With my newest large vessels, the compositions came together more organically. With The Purgatorium, for example, I wanted to create a complex narrative about my own inner turmoil as well as the larger societal collapse I am witnessing all around me. I used the front and backside of the vessel to create two paintings that speak to each other. On the front side, a personification of nature as a benevolent monster and puppet is manipulated by figures reminiscent of the Renaissance and Enlightenment periods. On the back, the medieval purgatorium houses all my feelings about academia and the hopelessness I sometimes feel about our broken institutions.
With Hellmouth Censor, I was directly using medieval images of hell to depict my reaction to the overturning of Roe v. Wade, choosing a censor form to activate the drawing with literal smoke and a handcrafted “Smells of Hell” incense.
On Mythos Vase, I wanted to use a central axis down the front and allow my drawing to evolve like a growth out from that central axis. I gave myself the prompt that I was creating a modern cult object for nature worshippers. I was inspired by the work of Christi Belcourt, Ursula K. Le Guin, and my huge collection of Medieval and Renaissance plant and animal imagery.
I spend a lot of time working in pencil on the surface to figure out my composition before I begin to paint (2), but I try to add only as much graphite to the surface as I need to see where everything is laid out. If I make a mistake, I gently rub out the pencil drawing with my finger, adding more glaze and gum if I rub away too much and hit the clay surface.
When it comes to colors for painting, I will use anything, but am partial to the Spectrum 300 Series Majolica Colors and always use them as a foundation for the lighter tones in my paintings. I use some Amaco Velvet underglazes, but they need to be tested on the maiolica glaze as some are very dry when fired to cone 05. I have come to value a variety of glaze-texture surfaces in my paintings, so I like to use some colors that fire dry, but it is less desirable for functional work.
Just like a watercolor painting, I apply color from light (3), to medium (4), to dark (5) as I work around the vessel (6–9), with black (10) being the final color I add. I treat glazes and overglazes like paint with very little distinction being made between them. I have a short attention span when painting and move all over the vessel as I work. Most of my technical decisions with maiolica are informed by the work and research done and generously shared by Linda Arbuckle. Her free guide on majolica (we spell it differently), is available on her website (lindaarbuckle.com). She provides guidance for adding frit to coloring oxides like copper, cobalt, and rutile, and I have found all her formulas work really well for me. Good contrast is initially challenging when moving from painting in more traditional mediums like oil and watercolor to maiolica. It has taken a lot of practice to develop an eye for how intense and heavy lights and darks need to be while painting to achieve good saturation and contrast in the final fired piece.
Sometimes I add bits of clear glaze over things I want to have a slightly higher gloss; I use commercial clear glaze, but the recipe for Deb’s Clear works well. Tip: Use a white maiolica glaze itself for small white detail work over top of your painting to provide contrast.
After all of the illustrations have been completed, I glaze fire to cone 05 and let the kiln cool as slowly as possible (11, 12). I never crack or open a kiln until I can comfortably handle the work with my bare hands and the temperature is below 200°F (93°C). Maiolica can dunt (cracking due to thermal shock), and unloading a kiln when it is still hot increases this risk. The thick application of maiolica glaze on one side of the vessel’s wall creates tension that can also cause dunting. Periodically, I can experience some shivering of the maiolica glaze, though this mostly tends to happen in high-tension areas of a form like handles and areas with tight curves. There is a reason historical maiolica pieces you see in museums are usually pretty thick and blobby, and though I push the limits of form the glaze will accept in my own practice, it can often be heartbreaking and not for the faint of heart. This glaze is often challenging, but I know a better and more willing technologist than myself could probably solve these issues with some trial-and-error testing.
Bisque firing the greenware hotter than the final glaze firing helps to gas out organic materials and gases present in the clay body, and can help with “snow” or the appearance of white dots on the final glazed surface. I personally love a bit of snow if it doesn’t take over the painting and look at it as a precious bit of atmosphere, uncommon at low temperatures in an electric kiln, that adds a magical element to finished piece.
the author Lindsay Montgomery is a Canadian artist working across a variety of media, including ceramics, painting, and puppetry to create objects and performances. She earned a BFA from the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, and received her MFA from the University of Minnesota. Her work has been exhibited internationally and is in several permanent collections, including The Gardiner Museum for Ceramics and the Musée des Beaux Arts in Montreal. She is the recipient of numerous awards, including The Winifred Shantz Award for Ceramics and individual project grants including The Canada Council for the Arts, Ontario Arts Council, and Toronto Arts Council. To learn more, follow her on Instagram @lindsay_s_montgomery.
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The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
My Neo-Istoriato series re-imagines and continues the tradition of narrative tin-glazed earthenware or maiolica ceramics that began in Europe in the Middle Ages.
I was first introduced to maiolica through my experience as a student at Sheridan College’s School of Craft and Design, where making a forty-pound maiolica platter was a famous and confidence-building project for first-year students. I was immediately drawn to the narrative history of European tin-glazed earthenware, and particularly the wares made during the Renaissance in Italy called istoriato ware, meaning “story painted.”
Maiolica wares were created as a reaction to the influx of Chinese porcelain ceramics flooding into Europe in the Renaissance. European makers did not possess the technology to make porcelain, so polychrome, tin-glazed earthenware was perfected to fake it. The pots, plates, and figurines acted as a vehicle for communicating important myths, mores, and folk legends of the time, with stories from Greek and Roman mythology, the Bible, and family histories being popular subjects. Because majolica ware begins with a foundation of a fatty, stable white glaze, oxides or colorants can be painted on and layered to create complex patterns and illustrations able to withstand the glaze firing. I see my long-running series as a continuation of that tradition with a critical eye to retelling stories and histories from the past through a feminist, pro-earthist lens that reveals and challenges the foundational stories that have shaped Western culture.
That summer after my first year at Sheridan, I was lucky to participate in a workshop with Walter Ostrom. Ostrom’s approach to being inspired by not just the material seduction of clay and glaze, but the history of ceramics convinced me that I needed to work with this person, and I went on to Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, where my exploration of maiolica continued and I honed my narrative voice and approach to the technique.
Over the past twenty years, I have experimented with maiolica and found my way with a technique that gives and takes away in equal measure. But for whatever reason, my attraction to its history and mystery continues. There’s nothing quite like the beauty and depth of the fired surface on a piece of maiolica.
To begin, an opaque white glaze must be applied to the surface of a bisque-fired earthenware vessel (1). While you could use other earthenware recipes, red earthenware is the traditional choice, glaze fired within the low-fire temperature range. There is debate amongst those of us who work in this technique about its optimum application, with most people agreeing that dipping is the best way to apply the maiolica glaze. For smaller objects, I tend to agree that dipping is best, but because I work alone and the scale of my work has increased, I have found it challenging in my own studio. My solution is to brush three coats of a white slip onto my larger pieces at the leather-hard stage, and then brush the maiolica glaze over top in a thin layer after bisque firing to cone 04. This way, I can still maintain a solid white ground without worrying about a streaky brush application. Recently, inspired by artists like Matt Weddell and Niki Green, I have been experimenting with a messier and more painterly application that is less interested in solid coverage of the maiolica glaze.
Once the glaze is applied to the bisque-fired surface, fixing it in place and creating a smooth painting surface (if not achieved through dipping) is very important. Maiolica is a great glaze for painting on because it doesn’t melt or flow much at all in the glaze firing, but this makes it rigid and unforgiving when applying. I have found that the thinner the glaze application, the better. Hand sanding eliminates any potential pinholes, drips, or bumps that would show up on the fired surface, so I very gently smooth the surface with my fingers like I’m using a pencil eraser. I prefer to wait until the glaze is dry enough, but still has enough moisture in it that it won’t create a lot of glaze dust in the studio.
Applying a CMC gum solution hardens the powdery glaze surface and makes it easier to draw on with pencil. My CMC gum solution is 3% CMC gum to water, though honestly, I never measure it, and simply add a couple of tablespoons of CMC gum to five cups of boiling water at a time. Once the gum dissolves and feels slightly slimy to the touch, I let it cool and add it to a plastic spray bottle. I then apply three sprayed layers, allowing the slightly rehydrated glaze to dry between each application and wait 24 hours before starting to map out my illustrations (1). If after 24 hours I cannot easily draw on the surface, I spray another layer of gum solution, then let it dry and cure again. This mixture keeps long term, so I only make up this solution when I run out. You can definitely overdo it with the sprayed gum solution, and I have had that show up in my glazed surface as spray marks that resist color. It’s visually difficult to tell if you’ve over-gummed, so only use as much gum as needed to comfortably draw on the glaze surface with graphite.
I work in my sketchbook very loosely to map out my composition. I used to use a lot of paper cut-outs of my drawings to arrange compositions, but I do this less and less as I grow more confident in composing my images. I keep vast collections of historical imagery and draw on these images to create new stories. Sometimes, I take a historical image and just tweak one or two things to change the message, often to contradict ingrained attitudes about women, death, or the natural world. With my newest large vessels, the compositions came together more organically. With The Purgatorium, for example, I wanted to create a complex narrative about my own inner turmoil as well as the larger societal collapse I am witnessing all around me. I used the front and backside of the vessel to create two paintings that speak to each other. On the front side, a personification of nature as a benevolent monster and puppet is manipulated by figures reminiscent of the Renaissance and Enlightenment periods. On the back, the medieval purgatorium houses all my feelings about academia and the hopelessness I sometimes feel about our broken institutions.
With Hellmouth Censor, I was directly using medieval images of hell to depict my reaction to the overturning of Roe v. Wade, choosing a censor form to activate the drawing with literal smoke and a handcrafted “Smells of Hell” incense.
On Mythos Vase, I wanted to use a central axis down the front and allow my drawing to evolve like a growth out from that central axis. I gave myself the prompt that I was creating a modern cult object for nature worshippers. I was inspired by the work of Christi Belcourt, Ursula K. Le Guin, and my huge collection of Medieval and Renaissance plant and animal imagery.
I spend a lot of time working in pencil on the surface to figure out my composition before I begin to paint (2), but I try to add only as much graphite to the surface as I need to see where everything is laid out. If I make a mistake, I gently rub out the pencil drawing with my finger, adding more glaze and gum if I rub away too much and hit the clay surface.
When it comes to colors for painting, I will use anything, but am partial to the Spectrum 300 Series Majolica Colors and always use them as a foundation for the lighter tones in my paintings. I use some Amaco Velvet underglazes, but they need to be tested on the maiolica glaze as some are very dry when fired to cone 05. I have come to value a variety of glaze-texture surfaces in my paintings, so I like to use some colors that fire dry, but it is less desirable for functional work.
Just like a watercolor painting, I apply color from light (3), to medium (4), to dark (5) as I work around the vessel (6–9), with black (10) being the final color I add. I treat glazes and overglazes like paint with very little distinction being made between them. I have a short attention span when painting and move all over the vessel as I work. Most of my technical decisions with maiolica are informed by the work and research done and generously shared by Linda Arbuckle. Her free guide on majolica (we spell it differently), is available on her website (lindaarbuckle.com). She provides guidance for adding frit to coloring oxides like copper, cobalt, and rutile, and I have found all her formulas work really well for me. Good contrast is initially challenging when moving from painting in more traditional mediums like oil and watercolor to maiolica. It has taken a lot of practice to develop an eye for how intense and heavy lights and darks need to be while painting to achieve good saturation and contrast in the final fired piece.
Sometimes I add bits of clear glaze over things I want to have a slightly higher gloss; I use commercial clear glaze, but the recipe for Deb’s Clear works well. Tip: Use a white maiolica glaze itself for small white detail work over top of your painting to provide contrast.
After all of the illustrations have been completed, I glaze fire to cone 05 and let the kiln cool as slowly as possible (11, 12). I never crack or open a kiln until I can comfortably handle the work with my bare hands and the temperature is below 200°F (93°C). Maiolica can dunt (cracking due to thermal shock), and unloading a kiln when it is still hot increases this risk. The thick application of maiolica glaze on one side of the vessel’s wall creates tension that can also cause dunting. Periodically, I can experience some shivering of the maiolica glaze, though this mostly tends to happen in high-tension areas of a form like handles and areas with tight curves. There is a reason historical maiolica pieces you see in museums are usually pretty thick and blobby, and though I push the limits of form the glaze will accept in my own practice, it can often be heartbreaking and not for the faint of heart. This glaze is often challenging, but I know a better and more willing technologist than myself could probably solve these issues with some trial-and-error testing.
Bisque firing the greenware hotter than the final glaze firing helps to gas out organic materials and gases present in the clay body, and can help with “snow” or the appearance of white dots on the final glazed surface. I personally love a bit of snow if it doesn’t take over the painting and look at it as a precious bit of atmosphere, uncommon at low temperatures in an electric kiln, that adds a magical element to finished piece.
the author Lindsay Montgomery is a Canadian artist working across a variety of media, including ceramics, painting, and puppetry to create objects and performances. She earned a BFA from the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, and received her MFA from the University of Minnesota. Her work has been exhibited internationally and is in several permanent collections, including The Gardiner Museum for Ceramics and the Musée des Beaux Arts in Montreal. She is the recipient of numerous awards, including The Winifred Shantz Award for Ceramics and individual project grants including The Canada Council for the Arts, Ontario Arts Council, and Toronto Arts Council. To learn more, follow her on Instagram @lindsay_s_montgomery.
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