Lidded objects are some of my favorite things to make and to admire. A covered container conceals what’s inside, adding a sense of specialness and mystery. Each time the lid is lifted to reveal what lies beneath, a small ritual is enacted. Even when not in use, the pot remains present, sitting on a shelf or counter, its surface and form quietly inviting touch or attention.
The salt cellar I create is a squat, simple form with straight walls and a wide, flat-topped lid. This shape leaves plenty of room for surface detail to remain visible. I’m drawn to strong, simplified forms that are bold but quiet. A consistent silhouette offers rhythm and predictability, which helps me approach the surface with intention, exploring the relationships between line, color, shape, and subtle textural shifts.
The Salt Cellar Form
For this salt cellar, I use a cone-6, red stoneware that is fired in an electric kiln to cone 5, with a hold at the end. It is slab built and about a ¼ inch (1.3 cm) thick. When building the form, I pinch the slabs with my fingertips to add a bit of texture. The lid is built by closing off the form, then cutting into it to make an opening and a flange. The piece that is cut to create the flange becomes the knob. To create a bit of lift and to make it easier to grasp, a small ring sits between the lid and knob. The lid remains in place during drying and bisque firing.
Drawing and Pattern
Before putting pencil to pot, sand the bisque-fired piece and clean it with a damp sponge. Starting the decorating process can feel intimidating, but thinking ahead to the final object helps me stick with the task.
Drawing freehand allows the pattern to respond to the form, reacting to slight imperfections and offering room for variation. Loosely planning ahead is helpful. On paper, I sketch vines and basic shapes like ovals or circles that will eventually become flowers (1). But even with a plan, the process stays intuitive. Using a regular HB pencil, begin by drawing a simple linear grid to guide the layout. Place the pot on a wheel head or banding wheel, and while slowly spinning, add evenly placed circles around the lid and up through the top (2). Next, add perpendicular lines radiating out from the center of the lid to create a grid over the entire form (3).
Begin to draw your loosely planned sketch over the three-dimensional form. The first line can move in any direction and determines how things grow and repeat (4). Symmetry and balance matter to me, but not to the point of perfection. The pot’s shape influences the pattern, the flat wall acting like a framed space for detail and rhythm. Sometimes I echo elements, for example, the blue circle in the center of the lid echoes the small blue dot in the flower. Multiple planes (body, lid, knob) give options to blend or separate imagery. For this piece, I chose to treat the sections as distinct.
In the past, even when I thought I wasn’t “drawing,” I was; I just hadn’t acknowledged it yet. Now, I embrace it, and planning ahead has become more enjoyable, too. Spending that time drawing helps to see how elements might interact with color and where visual weight might land. Some floral shapes are imagined and others are borrowed from specific flowers or doodles I’ve made for years, making them part observation, part memory, and part invention.
Glazing
I use a slip trailer for most of my glaze application (see 7). The fine nozzle allows for detailed lines in a similar way to drawing or writing. I make my own glazes using two different bases and varying amounts of stain, keeping the glaze quite thick as I don’t want it to run as I apply it, but also liquid enough for it to come out of such a small point. Larger areas, like the interior or the lid, are poured or brushed.
Glaze the interior first, pouring in a small amount of watered-down copper green, just enough so that there isn’t any excess that needs to be poured out. Then, apply copper green to areas where the flowers or vines “grow from,” like the lid, rim, and base (5). A sharp X-Acto knife is a handy tool for cleaning up or scraping off glaze mistakes (6).
My palette builds around green, and I use several shades to create variation and a sense of growth. The smallest details are always applied first, in this case, the vines and then the leaves (7). Go green by green, following the drawing, as if filling in a paint-by-numbers (8, 9). When done with the greens, move on to the next element, the flowers. For this piece, I’ve chosen a specific combination of colors (10), but sometimes I respond in the moment to what has previously been applied. Begin outlining and filling in flower shapes, following the same process as the vines and leaves, using the drawing as a guide, going color by color around the pot (11, 12).
Tip: Before applying the background color, spray the surface using a mixture of water and CMC gum (13) to harden the material and prevent smudging as the piece is further handled.
I always glaze the background last (14, 15), usually choosing from white, black, blue, or deep red. Landing on a decision for the background marks a moment of commitment.
When it’s ready to glaze fire, always double-check the piece to ensure there’s no glaze where there shouldn’t be any, especially around the lid and flange. I fire these pieces with the lid on, gently tapping on them to loosen the lid if it fuses slightly during the firing (I’ve had good luck with this!).
Final Thoughts
I enjoy the type of flatness this technique creates, colors laid side by side like an illustration, yet subtle seams and shifts emerge where glazes meet, adding depth. I often pair matte and glossy glazes to heighten contrast, letting areas catch light, recede, or come forward.
Even though I imagine and can usually predict how the piece will emerge from the kiln, there are always surprises: color shifts, unexpected glaze interactions and flow, or happy accidents. Over time, I’ve learned to accept and welcome these. They keep the process alive and make each piece feel like a response to a myriad of variables.
I often imagine each piece as future shards, and I want them to contain as much information as possible. I usually lean toward more is more, with every dot, line, and leaf carrying significance and weight.
Marissa Y Alexander is a ceramic artist based in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. She holds a BA in Sociology from McMaster University and an Advanced Diploma in Craft and Design (Ceramics) from Sheridan College. She completed her MFA in Ceramic Art at The New York State College of Ceramics at Alfred University, and has previously served as a full-time artist-in-residence at the Harbourfront Center in Toronto. Marissa has received various awards and has exhibited both nationally and internationally. To learn more, visit www.marissaya.comor follow her on Instagram @marissaya_.
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Lidded objects are some of my favorite things to make and to admire. A covered container conceals what’s inside, adding a sense of specialness and mystery. Each time the lid is lifted to reveal what lies beneath, a small ritual is enacted. Even when not in use, the pot remains present, sitting on a shelf or counter, its surface and form quietly inviting touch or attention.
The salt cellar I create is a squat, simple form with straight walls and a wide, flat-topped lid. This shape leaves plenty of room for surface detail to remain visible. I’m drawn to strong, simplified forms that are bold but quiet. A consistent silhouette offers rhythm and predictability, which helps me approach the surface with intention, exploring the relationships between line, color, shape, and subtle textural shifts.
The Salt Cellar Form
For this salt cellar, I use a cone-6, red stoneware that is fired in an electric kiln to cone 5, with a hold at the end. It is slab built and about a ¼ inch (1.3 cm) thick. When building the form, I pinch the slabs with my fingertips to add a bit of texture. The lid is built by closing off the form, then cutting into it to make an opening and a flange. The piece that is cut to create the flange becomes the knob. To create a bit of lift and to make it easier to grasp, a small ring sits between the lid and knob. The lid remains in place during drying and bisque firing.
Drawing and Pattern
Before putting pencil to pot, sand the bisque-fired piece and clean it with a damp sponge. Starting the decorating process can feel intimidating, but thinking ahead to the final object helps me stick with the task.
Drawing freehand allows the pattern to respond to the form, reacting to slight imperfections and offering room for variation. Loosely planning ahead is helpful. On paper, I sketch vines and basic shapes like ovals or circles that will eventually become flowers (1). But even with a plan, the process stays intuitive. Using a regular HB pencil, begin by drawing a simple linear grid to guide the layout. Place the pot on a wheel head or banding wheel, and while slowly spinning, add evenly placed circles around the lid and up through the top (2). Next, add perpendicular lines radiating out from the center of the lid to create a grid over the entire form (3).
Begin to draw your loosely planned sketch over the three-dimensional form. The first line can move in any direction and determines how things grow and repeat (4). Symmetry and balance matter to me, but not to the point of perfection. The pot’s shape influences the pattern, the flat wall acting like a framed space for detail and rhythm. Sometimes I echo elements, for example, the blue circle in the center of the lid echoes the small blue dot in the flower. Multiple planes (body, lid, knob) give options to blend or separate imagery. For this piece, I chose to treat the sections as distinct.
In the past, even when I thought I wasn’t “drawing,” I was; I just hadn’t acknowledged it yet. Now, I embrace it, and planning ahead has become more enjoyable, too. Spending that time drawing helps to see how elements might interact with color and where visual weight might land. Some floral shapes are imagined and others are borrowed from specific flowers or doodles I’ve made for years, making them part observation, part memory, and part invention.
Glazing
I use a slip trailer for most of my glaze application (see 7). The fine nozzle allows for detailed lines in a similar way to drawing or writing. I make my own glazes using two different bases and varying amounts of stain, keeping the glaze quite thick as I don’t want it to run as I apply it, but also liquid enough for it to come out of such a small point. Larger areas, like the interior or the lid, are poured or brushed.
Glaze the interior first, pouring in a small amount of watered-down copper green, just enough so that there isn’t any excess that needs to be poured out. Then, apply copper green to areas where the flowers or vines “grow from,” like the lid, rim, and base (5). A sharp X-Acto knife is a handy tool for cleaning up or scraping off glaze mistakes (6).
My palette builds around green, and I use several shades to create variation and a sense of growth. The smallest details are always applied first, in this case, the vines and then the leaves (7). Go green by green, following the drawing, as if filling in a paint-by-numbers (8, 9). When done with the greens, move on to the next element, the flowers. For this piece, I’ve chosen a specific combination of colors (10), but sometimes I respond in the moment to what has previously been applied. Begin outlining and filling in flower shapes, following the same process as the vines and leaves, using the drawing as a guide, going color by color around the pot (11, 12).
Tip: Before applying the background color, spray the surface using a mixture of water and CMC gum (13) to harden the material and prevent smudging as the piece is further handled.
I always glaze the background last (14, 15), usually choosing from white, black, blue, or deep red. Landing on a decision for the background marks a moment of commitment.
When it’s ready to glaze fire, always double-check the piece to ensure there’s no glaze where there shouldn’t be any, especially around the lid and flange. I fire these pieces with the lid on, gently tapping on them to loosen the lid if it fuses slightly during the firing (I’ve had good luck with this!).
I enjoy the type of flatness this technique creates, colors laid side by side like an illustration, yet subtle seams and shifts emerge where glazes meet, adding depth. I often pair matte and glossy glazes to heighten contrast, letting areas catch light, recede, or come forward.
Even though I imagine and can usually predict how the piece will emerge from the kiln, there are always surprises: color shifts, unexpected glaze interactions and flow, or happy accidents. Over time, I’ve learned to accept and welcome these. They keep the process alive and make each piece feel like a response to a myriad of variables.
I often imagine each piece as future shards, and I want them to contain as much information as possible. I usually lean toward more is more, with every dot, line, and leaf carrying significance and weight.
Marissa Y Alexander is a ceramic artist based in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. She holds a BA in Sociology from McMaster University and an Advanced Diploma in Craft and Design (Ceramics) from Sheridan College. She completed her MFA in Ceramic Art at The New York State College of Ceramics at Alfred University, and has previously served as a full-time artist-in-residence at the Harbourfront Center in Toronto. Marissa has received various awards and has exhibited both nationally and internationally. To learn more, visit www.marissaya.com or follow her on Instagram @marissaya_.
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