Shino Thoughts

Hey yall. I got my website up! It's actually been up for 2 months but I think it's fair to say we've been through a couple of crazy months and things have fallen by the wayside. The IP to my ego can be found at link in my bio description. I'm still going to be posting to both my blog and my website so ya can enjoy both.


I have to thank the talented Janelle Low for these pics. This pot was one of my favourite little surprises from last year. Like petrified lava, this glaze appears to be in it's viscous state while being locked in strict silica chains. Oxidized shino, damn you can be pretty. I love shinos, a good gloss with a honey like melt state. Some glazes run like sled dogs, Shino doesn't run, it oozes. High temperature refractories like aluminum oxide gives it it's thickness while unfused silica give it it's opacity. I love that little window where the glaze has pulled back onto itself. The tension giving us some bare skin we can ogle at.


I've heard many potters say it's not really a shino if it's not in reduction. I do think there's a point to that. That orange blushing the glaze smiles with. The black carbon trapped spot's that blister a form. These are all qualities that come best from the lick of the flame. Shino loves reduction, this glaze shows off the drama of a burning kiln. The two were made to be together. Shino loves reduction, but right now I love this pot. Reduction or not shino has always got something to give, something to showoff . Shino glows like drying amber yet feels like polished marble. Shino you pretty.




Have a sus of Janelle's photography, is legit

@janellelow_

http://www.janellelow.com/

Clay Sketch #4 | Soaking in

Soaking in


There's something calming about being submerged. It holds, it hugs, water, it consumes us. Entering a body of the liquid feels like your form is entering into a new state of being. In water we can feel ourselves becoming totally embedded to the environment we preside in. When we bathe our pores slowly open to swell from it's surroundings. We absorb the water, while we are absorbed into the water.

The Gilf Kebir is a sandstone plateau tucked into the southwest corner of Egypt. In this expansive landscape of drifting sands, dry dirt and soaring temperatures we find the cave of swimmer. Etched onto the archaic walls we see six human figures taking a dip. This ancient art is our first evidence for human's love of plunging into the deep. Approximately 420 million years ago, our common ancestor left its liquid home for greener pastures and for at least 9000 we've been trying to jump back in.

The love to flood ourselves with water is a love that is universal. Every culture has adopted specific meanings and practices when it comes to water. For the catholic faith water has a cleansing property. The purifying powers water has during baptism is the same water has during the purging floods of the first testament. It washes away the foul allowing us to start anew. Zen Buddhism sees flowing water as the impermanence of all things, while still water symbioses meditative insights. Water is universal in geographical prevalence but unique in cultural interpretation.



I've been finding myself in baths more. Its a nice way for the muscles to soak up magnesium and a nice way for the brain to soak up some stillness. It's nice to join the deluge once in a while. Brining oneself in warm, salty water always feels nice.

When a foreigner quizzed the Roman Emperor why he took the trouble to bathe once a day he replied "Because I do not have the time to bathe twice a day". There aren't many things in life I can relate to a Roman Emperor but that statement is one of them.

Clay Sketch #3 | Not mixing

Keep it quick

I love unblended clays. Like freshwater pouring into seawater, a dirty iron clay encountering a pure white clay will produce a swirling storm of activity. Red infecting the purest china clays and the purest whites mellowing the heaviest iron oxides. I could sit there wedging, making lovely spirals, removing air pockets and inconsistency. There, I could have a uniform blob of clay. But where is the fun in that? This ain't wheel throwing, this is some rushed form I'm slapping together ,alone, in my studio, dancing in my undies. It doesn't have to be perfect. My clay sketches aren't for kilns or public consumption they are for personal development. Processes where the longed result isn't a finished piece but a learned technique. I don't think practice makes perfect but I do think practice makes things experimental.

I like messy forms. Crumbling dry sheaths of silica doused in rich-red stained porcelains, my reclaim bucket is complicated. A 70L tub filled with dozens of clay varieties, clays waiting patiently to be turned into a fired form. I've worked in throwing studios. I know a paint mixer is the best tool for speeding up reclaim. A quick blitz of a the power-tool will turn the recycled clay into a smooth, beautiful slip. A consistent product reacts consistently. When I throw I crave a consistent clay, but when I sculpt I revile a uniform product. I like chucking various clays together, different particle size, different colours, get them on! I work quick with my hands. Keep the movement. The clay has worked hard to be active, don't fuck it up. This piece took 10 minutes not because I wanted to be quick, but because I needed to be quick. Catch that activity while you can. Wedging clay is like mixing paints on pallet. I prefer to mix on the canvas.

Blue: Cobalt's Price

Cobalt is the hardiest, most giving of the colorants we dare to mix into our glazes. With 1400 degrees of stability, cobalt oxide gives the richest blues with the most minimal input. A impurity of one percent will turn the clearest translucent glazes, into a stormiest oceans of blues. Cobalt got the goods.


Mined from our planets crust, cobalt is a vital part of humans existence. Wedged into the heart of b12 compounds, cobalt keeps our heart pumping and our blood flowing. Cobalt is a tenacious little beast. The 27th element can't exist as a pure metal, the oxygen atmosphere of our planet dictates that. This mineral is always linking into greater ever more complicated forms. Cobalt's origin is as varied as its minerals are. From copper sedimentary rocks, to iron laced meteorites, cobalt is always hitchhiking a ride with other elements. With each paring arises a new relationship, a new colour, a new pigment. Calcite cobalt crystals glow rose-pink, while extraterrestrial metals shines with a yellow-hued steel. My favorite marriage though is with silica. The part one of clay's two part recipe, silica loves cobalt. Fired to a fiery 800 degrees Celsius cobalt dumps oxygen choosing instead to move in with silica. In this apartment of violent chemistry, cobalt and silica together glow with a blue aura. It is a mistake to see cobalt individually as blue; but correct to recognize the relationships it forms as blue. If you see a cobalt blue, you know are looking at a ionic bond formed in a hot mess of at least 800 degrees. Cobalt manages to combine with other elements, producing something more valuable the sum of it's parts.

“According to general belief the Kobolds belong as much to the race of men as the world of spirits, they retain the size and shape of infants, and that knife which so often is noticed form of the caudal appendage, is nothing less than that the instrument with which they have been put to death. 

There exists, however, quite a number of troublesome hobgoblins, who turn the house upside down and deprive the people whom they bear a grudge of peace and sleep, till they well nigh drive them mad” 

Myths of the Rhine 

1874 

X. B. Saintine 

Schneeberg, the tallest mountain range in lower Austria. As you march east it is the last great momentum of Europe's alps. The hills eventually easing off as you arrive at the fruitful plains of the Danube river, the rock still remains in sight. A three sided beast of eroded limestone. This is where miners spoke in hush tones of the demon of the mountain. Inside the caverns that a blue mineral lay men's skin grew thick with blackened tumors. Among this, they say, the demon lay. A demon that damned an empty mouth with taste of metal. A demon that left men blind when the moon rose. A demon who ate at men's insides leaving their feces red with blood. This is Kobold, the ethereal creature of German folklore. A shape-shifter by nature this creature, lived in rocks while we live in air. They tempted mortals with rich veins of gold and silver that when smelted turned into poisonous fumes. They liked to toy maliciously with us. Many humble miners made offerings in hopes the demon would stop. The demon did not stop. Seeing the gifts as encouragement the creature crumbled earth onto mortals whom dared to enter it's cavern. It was in the rocks where the Kobold lived, that the men who mined, died. From these ages the metal, Cobalt was named and forever burdened with a demeanor of the sinister and the occult.




Cobalt isn't just a blue giving mineral, but an energy gifting one too. Cobalt is in high demand today, not for it's decorative qualities but for the power it supplies. Densely packed into a lithium battery cobalt gives your iPhone an extra burst of energy, lasting longer and delivering more. The miner's of this precious mineral are no longer Austrian but Norwegian, Canadian and Congolese. The worlds largest supply lay in the South East of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. In a province once called Katanga, rich sedimentary rock formations supply the DRC with what the world desires. This region has been coveted and fought over for centuries. The power that resisted King Leopold and assassinated Patrice Lumumba, grew from these mines. From the uprisings for an autonomous state to the crushing repression of a unified government these buried treasures have added diesel to burning conflicts. In the courts too battles ensues. Apple and other tech giants find themselves under fire for the use of child labor in order to keep the batteries flowing. Cobalt can befoul even the cleanest of suits; It's allure so enchanting, we will make deals with the demons in the rocks in order to obtain it.




It was never Cobalt that made those Austrian miners sick. It was the impurities arsenic and nickel. Smelted these elements welled into a noxious smoke that poisoned the stricken workers. But alas as the rock was blue, we linked the curses of goblins to the 27th element. That's the thing about cobalt though, its qualities lay in it's relations. Cobalt's links with silica still gives us blue. Cobalt's links with wealth still give us conflict.

Kobold oh you contemptuous heathen why you must still play these malicious games with us?

                     



This is a series all about blue. What is it and why we love it? The images accompanying the text are microscopic shots, taken of my glaze tests. I've found this perspective really helps me to focus in and investigate the material, revealing new details I've never seen. Hopefully by understanding blue a little better, we can understand our own pale, blue dot a little better.

Blue: Cobalt Beauty

This is a series all about blue. What is it and why we love it? The images accompanying the text are microscopic shots, taken of my glaze tests. I've found this perspective really helps me to focus in and investigate the material, revealing new details I've never seen. Hopefully by understanding blue a little better, we can understand our own pale, blue dot a little better.

“She found Helen in her room,

weaving a large cloth, a double purple cloak,

creating pictures of the many battle scenes

between horse-taming Trojans and bronze-clad Achaeans,

wars they suffered for her sake “

The Illiad

Homer

Blue. The colour of the rich, the heavenly, the unclouded. Blue, one of the three primary colours in the holy trinity, we call visible light. Blue is the most detached and least material of all the hues. Its link to the limitless, unreachable sky connects it to the divine. The cults of the Virgin Mary fetishsized her purity by displaying her in sky-blue robes. Vishnu, the maintaining force of the universe is wrapped in a blue skin, his infinite power linked the ever-reaching sky he protects. Amun's, the Egyptian god of sun and air, blue complexion ties him to the heavenly skies he resides. Blue it special.

On the land it's rare, blue is so sparse that in many languages blues and greens have colexfied into one unanimous word. Arabic, Tibetan, Japanese are all lexicons that lack such specificity as too give blue it's own category. Persian though, Persian has 6-7 words of blue, this ancient language describes the glow of rain-clouds as turquoise stones and the rings of our eyes as lapiz rocks.

The silk road trade routes of the middle ages spread religion, disease and the love of blue. Persia became the worlds exporter of the finest cobalt. A metal mineral that when fired flashes into a rich deep hue. The Chinese branded this new pigment of choice as “Islamic blue”. For one pound of cobalt a Chinese trader would hand over three pounds of gold. Islamic blue and Chinese porcelain fused together to become the defining image we think of as “fine-china”. The purest clays of Jingdezhen paired with the most vibrant pigments of Persia. Only the greatest skilled, surgeon-like hands were trusted to decorate with this divine material. The blue, chemical flare wrapped each translucent, white vessel; a pairing so vibrant it demanded your attention. In this golden age of ceramics every pot burned with glorified beauty.


For centuries China honed their expertise in design and practice, their ceramics eventually becoming the desire of the worlds elites. Hungry consumer base grew, swelling the corporations that could help get their fix. Fueled by greed and a unrelenting appetite these companies gorged themselves on China's finest ceramics. Being left with a hefty tab, the Europeans payed the bill with deadly opiates. Drowning in a sea of addiction China tried to go cold turkey on it's smack addiction, banning the trade of poppies. But, like a abusive drug dealer, the British replied with violence and blackmail forcing their client to keep their addiction. Bullied and bruised China had to accept it's fate when looking down the barrels of a flotilla of British warships. China was never the same after the opium wars. It's ports and national borders were violated and wedged open for the world. China has lost its agency and England had secure it's commodities. The sleeping tiger Napoleon had warned about, just had it's legs amputate, its claws removed, its body taxidermied and carcass sold to the highest bidder.

China saw the beauty of blue. They honed their craft and their artistry producing an aesthetic that people didn't know they wanted, but then needed. The trade bloated the treasuries of Emperors and investment firms. The world clawed to get the newest, the finest, the most ostentatious fine-china they could exhibit. Blue was in fashion in Europe now, a trend that drove styles and market forces. China produced a beauty and quality that no-one could truly replicate. But with such beauty came lust and jealously. The British squirmed with anger, coveting their far-neighbors treasures. With a fleet spewing gunpowder and violence they took what they saw as theirs. This story of trade started on the backs of silk road camels and ended on the Cannons of British Gunboats.


Helen of Troy's beauty is said to have launched 1000 ships. How many ships I wonder have launched for the blue, beauty of Chinese Porcelain?