After nearly a decade and countless firings, a necessary move required the dismantling of my wood kiln. It was a small catenary-arch crossdraft with an exaggerated firebox. Its modest size allowed for quick turnaround times, and our firing crew had it dialed in. I reasoned that each firing was an opportunity for understanding, and I would rather have six annual opportunities to learn at that scale than only two on a larger scale. The education was exponential.
Anyone with even a basic understanding of wood firing knows that the preparations, firing, and cleaning can add up to hundreds of hours infused into the making process. All of that thought and energy culminated in a process and body of work that I felt deeply connected to. When the wood kiln came down, I stared side-eyed at my electric kiln like it was a meager and tasteless meal. My initial attempts at cone-6 oxidation firing consisted of dipping a pot in blue and pressing the START button. Ugh. Let’s just assume that I was beyond disappointed and worked through the five stages of grieving twice while transitioning to electric firings.
Eventually, I settled into the acceptance stage and acknowledged that there would be no ash, no sodium, no carbon, and no directional path of flame to enliven my pots. This glorified toaster oven would be offering no magic, and if there were any magic to be had, I would have to infuse it myself.
Making Peace and Developing Techniques
What if I took all the hours spent sourcing, dicing, and splitting wood; all the time it takes to mix and join wadding; strategically stack and load the kiln; brick up the door; add the 30, 40, 50, 100+ hours of firing; all of that, and infuse that level of thought and energy into pots bound for the electric kiln? What if I built up layers of slips and underglazes like accumulative ash? What if I fired multiple times? What may be possible in oxidation that would be absolutely impossible in an atmospheric firing?
I’ve long since made my peace with electric kilns and hold no hierarchy among firing methods or atmosphere types. A kiln is just one of the tools available to us and it is what we make of it. I’ve found great satisfaction in developing multiple surface techniques over the years, viewing the limitations of oxidation as a fertile catalyst for imagination.
Here, I offer some insights into creating dynamic and nuanced ceramic surfaces by eroding sparse layers of color.
Clay Body and Surface Background
When developing rich surfaces in oxidation, your choice of clay body is of the utmost importance. I use a dark mid-fire stoneware called Standard 266G, which has fine grog and fires to a rich chocolate brown at cone 6.
After the forms are thrown, I spend considerable time creating background texture as well as macro textures in the foreground (1). This sense of movement is achieved by drawing over freshly thrown clay with a series of combs and ribs. Each mark is responded to internally and swollen out at staggered points over the course of hours. The characteristics and possibilities of drying clay change continually, and I try to exhibit and exaggerate as many of them as possible.
Base Coat and Test Tiles
After bisque firing, I apply two generous coats of white or light-colored underglaze. This serves as a gesso that will eventually bring a touch of chiaroscuro to the surface, especially around the highpoints (2). In my experience, the organic binders and gums that make underglaze so wonderfully brushable also serve as a faint and passive resist to subsequent layers of underglaze and glaze. For this reason, I bisque fire the base coat to ensure a stable yet fully porous layer to build on.
The serendipitous moments that I’m now seeking are entirely through building textures and altering precarious forms. After the first bisque firing, my intention is to enhance these elements through a predictable myriad of colors. In 2019, my daughter, Evie, and I began an ambitious and burgeoning test-tile project that now adorns one entire wall of my studio (3). The tile wall is composed entirely of Amaco Velvet underglazes: out of the bottle, in combination with each other, and tinted with white in ratios of 90-10, 70-30, 50-50, 30-70, and 10-90.
Methods of Mixing
Unlike standard glaze testing, which measures dry materials by weight, blending liquid underglazes in a predictable and repeatable method prevents a few challenges. We’re operating under the assumption that the good folks at Amaco are mixing each batch of underglaze with a consistent saturation and specific gravity. If that’s the case, we have two rules in maintaining repeatability: Never add water to the bottle and always put the lid back on to prevent evaporation.
With those factors in mind, we begin with the Dot Method. If we are seeking a blend of 30% Medium Blue and 70% Bright Red, we dispense three equally sized drops of Medium Blue and seven drops of Bright Red into a small plastic dish. When blended, this results in enough material to cover a 3 × 3-inch (7.6 × 7.6-cm) tile three times, without waste (4).
If the tile results in an attractive color that we’d like to incorporate into the tile library, we blend a larger batch using a 10ml syringe dispensed into 100ml jars (5). With a larger volume of any given blend, we can return to the Dot Method to begin incrementally tinting fully saturated blends with white. In many cases, we have been amazed at how saturated most Amaco underglazes can be and how much further a pint can be stretched by tinting colors. Oftentimes, the addition of 10–50% white will still result in brilliant colors (6).
Building a Palette
When building a palette, I generally choose a tile and hover it over the rest of the tile wall to see what sticks. My approach to color theory has been largely intuitive and rests in a permanent state of learning and experimentation. Once a selection of colors has been made (7), I’ll directionally brush 2–3 layers (8), before bisque firing again. Keep in mind that your clay body should be considered one of the colors in your palette.
When pots emerge from the third bisque firing, I’m inclined to add thin washes of color on highly textured surfaces (9). This effect often lends a sense of age, weathering, depth, and dimension. If the base colors are limited in tone, multiple and varied washes are applied. When working with a broader spectrum of base colors, only one or two washes may be used.
When wiping off the high points (10), I try to be intentional about the weight of the lines and shadows that remain. Although this is a reductive process, I approach it just as I would a drawing. Once the highlights and lowlights have been established, the cup is bisque fired one last time.
Drawing by Abrading
When the cups are unloaded from the fourth (and final) bisque firing, I submerge them in a 5-gallon bucket of water for 24 hours (11). With fully saturated cups, I can begin the process of wet sanding without any concern of creating harmful dust.
As with the color washes, wet sanding is a reductive process that I view as drawing. Using an array of diamond polishing pads (60, 120, 200, and 400 grit), I repeatedly draw over the high points to break through layers of color and expose the raw clay body (12). Larger lines and edges are abraded to expose strong dark lines, while background textures are polished lightly to reveal thin veins.
Once I am satisfied with the line quality and smoothness, each cup is thoroughly rinsed and scrubbed under running water to remove fine particles that may have accumulated while sanding. From there, cups are allowed to dry completely before pouring a liner glaze on the interior and firing to cone 6.
Finishing Touches
On a family trip to Mammoth Caves National Park in Kentucky, I was moved by the effect of human hands on limestone and shale. As we traversed the narrow passages, deep underground, it seemed that every outcropping I reached for to steady myself was polished smooth. Generations of Indigenous peoples, thousands of workers, and millions of tourists had, one touch at a time, worn those jagged edges to a mirrored finish.
In creating unglazed surfaces, the tactile quality of each finished cup is paramount. I revisit wet sanding after the final firing to ensure that the handles, feet, and rims are especially smooth. If cups are made for the human hand, these finishing touches imbue consideration for their user while inferring age and use.
Eric Botbyl, a previous contributor to Ceramics Monthly, is a full-time studio potter, teacher, gallerist, and occasional author. Eric and Jill Botbyl own and operate Companion Gallery in Humboldt, Tennessee. Follow him on Instagram @ericbotbyl or @companiongalleryand visit companiongallery.comfor more.
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After nearly a decade and countless firings, a necessary move required the dismantling of my wood kiln. It was a small catenary-arch crossdraft with an exaggerated firebox. Its modest size allowed for quick turnaround times, and our firing crew had it dialed in. I reasoned that each firing was an opportunity for understanding, and I would rather have six annual opportunities to learn at that scale than only two on a larger scale. The education was exponential.
Anyone with even a basic understanding of wood firing knows that the preparations, firing, and cleaning can add up to hundreds of hours infused into the making process. All of that thought and energy culminated in a process and body of work that I felt deeply connected to. When the wood kiln came down, I stared side-eyed at my electric kiln like it was a meager and tasteless meal. My initial attempts at cone-6 oxidation firing consisted of dipping a pot in blue and pressing the START button. Ugh. Let’s just assume that I was beyond disappointed and worked through the five stages of grieving twice while transitioning to electric firings.
Eventually, I settled into the acceptance stage and acknowledged that there would be no ash, no sodium, no carbon, and no directional path of flame to enliven my pots. This glorified toaster oven would be offering no magic, and if there were any magic to be had, I would have to infuse it myself.
Making Peace and Developing Techniques
What if I took all the hours spent sourcing, dicing, and splitting wood; all the time it takes to mix and join wadding; strategically stack and load the kiln; brick up the door; add the 30, 40, 50, 100+ hours of firing; all of that, and infuse that level of thought and energy into pots bound for the electric kiln? What if I built up layers of slips and underglazes like accumulative ash? What if I fired multiple times? What may be possible in oxidation that would be absolutely impossible in an atmospheric firing?
I’ve long since made my peace with electric kilns and hold no hierarchy among firing methods or atmosphere types. A kiln is just one of the tools available to us and it is what we make of it. I’ve found great satisfaction in developing multiple surface techniques over the years, viewing the limitations of oxidation as a fertile catalyst for imagination.
Here, I offer some insights into creating dynamic and nuanced ceramic surfaces by eroding sparse layers of color.
Clay Body and Surface Background
When developing rich surfaces in oxidation, your choice of clay body is of the utmost importance. I use a dark mid-fire stoneware called Standard 266G, which has fine grog and fires to a rich chocolate brown at cone 6.
After the forms are thrown, I spend considerable time creating background texture as well as macro textures in the foreground (1). This sense of movement is achieved by drawing over freshly thrown clay with a series of combs and ribs. Each mark is responded to internally and swollen out at staggered points over the course of hours. The characteristics and possibilities of drying clay change continually, and I try to exhibit and exaggerate as many of them as possible.
Base Coat and Test Tiles
After bisque firing, I apply two generous coats of white or light-colored underglaze. This serves as a gesso that will eventually bring a touch of chiaroscuro to the surface, especially around the highpoints (2). In my experience, the organic binders and gums that make underglaze so wonderfully brushable also serve as a faint and passive resist to subsequent layers of underglaze and glaze. For this reason, I bisque fire the base coat to ensure a stable yet fully porous layer to build on.
The serendipitous moments that I’m now seeking are entirely through building textures and altering precarious forms. After the first bisque firing, my intention is to enhance these elements through a predictable myriad of colors. In 2019, my daughter, Evie, and I began an ambitious and burgeoning test-tile project that now adorns one entire wall of my studio (3). The tile wall is composed entirely of Amaco Velvet underglazes: out of the bottle, in combination with each other, and tinted with white in ratios of 90-10, 70-30, 50-50, 30-70, and 10-90.
Methods of Mixing
Unlike standard glaze testing, which measures dry materials by weight, blending liquid underglazes in a predictable and repeatable method prevents a few challenges. We’re operating under the assumption that the good folks at Amaco are mixing each batch of underglaze with a consistent saturation and specific gravity. If that’s the case, we have two rules in maintaining repeatability: Never add water to the bottle and always put the lid back on to prevent evaporation.
With those factors in mind, we begin with the Dot Method. If we are seeking a blend of 30% Medium Blue and 70% Bright Red, we dispense three equally sized drops of Medium Blue and seven drops of Bright Red into a small plastic dish. When blended, this results in enough material to cover a 3 × 3-inch (7.6 × 7.6-cm) tile three times, without waste (4).
If the tile results in an attractive color that we’d like to incorporate into the tile library, we blend a larger batch using a 10ml syringe dispensed into 100ml jars (5). With a larger volume of any given blend, we can return to the Dot Method to begin incrementally tinting fully saturated blends with white. In many cases, we have been amazed at how saturated most Amaco underglazes can be and how much further a pint can be stretched by tinting colors. Oftentimes, the addition of 10–50% white will still result in brilliant colors (6).
Building a Palette
When building a palette, I generally choose a tile and hover it over the rest of the tile wall to see what sticks. My approach to color theory has been largely intuitive and rests in a permanent state of learning and experimentation. Once a selection of colors has been made (7), I’ll directionally brush 2–3 layers (8), before bisque firing again. Keep in mind that your clay body should be considered one of the colors in your palette.
When pots emerge from the third bisque firing, I’m inclined to add thin washes of color on highly textured surfaces (9). This effect often lends a sense of age, weathering, depth, and dimension. If the base colors are limited in tone, multiple and varied washes are applied. When working with a broader spectrum of base colors, only one or two washes may be used.
When wiping off the high points (10), I try to be intentional about the weight of the lines and shadows that remain. Although this is a reductive process, I approach it just as I would a drawing. Once the highlights and lowlights have been established, the cup is bisque fired one last time.
Drawing by Abrading
When the cups are unloaded from the fourth (and final) bisque firing, I submerge them in a 5-gallon bucket of water for 24 hours (11). With fully saturated cups, I can begin the process of wet sanding without any concern of creating harmful dust.
As with the color washes, wet sanding is a reductive process that I view as drawing. Using an array of diamond polishing pads (60, 120, 200, and 400 grit), I repeatedly draw over the high points to break through layers of color and expose the raw clay body (12). Larger lines and edges are abraded to expose strong dark lines, while background textures are polished lightly to reveal thin veins.
Once I am satisfied with the line quality and smoothness, each cup is thoroughly rinsed and scrubbed under running water to remove fine particles that may have accumulated while sanding. From there, cups are allowed to dry completely before pouring a liner glaze on the interior and firing to cone 6.
Finishing Touches
On a family trip to Mammoth Caves National Park in Kentucky, I was moved by the effect of human hands on limestone and shale. As we traversed the narrow passages, deep underground, it seemed that every outcropping I reached for to steady myself was polished smooth. Generations of Indigenous peoples, thousands of workers, and millions of tourists had, one touch at a time, worn those jagged edges to a mirrored finish.
In creating unglazed surfaces, the tactile quality of each finished cup is paramount. I revisit wet sanding after the final firing to ensure that the handles, feet, and rims are especially smooth. If cups are made for the human hand, these finishing touches imbue consideration for their user while inferring age and use.
Eric Botbyl, a previous contributor to Ceramics Monthly, is a full-time studio potter, teacher, gallerist, and occasional author. Eric and Jill Botbyl own and operate Companion Gallery in Humboldt, Tennessee. Follow him on Instagram @ericbotbyl or @companiongallery and visit companiongallery.com for more.
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