Hamish Jackson 1/30/16 Hamish Jackson 1/30/16

Testing. Testing.

It's official: we are in the bleak midwinter (well, we were when I started writing this post anyway). Precipitation from the sky is no longer liquid. It's whiter, colder and you can't see through it. Riding my bike down to work has become treacherous so I've been walking instead; carefully following the paw prints of one of the neighborhood felines....

We live worryingly close to the Carolina Tiger Rescue.

Its been an exciting couple of months at the Hewitt Pottery. The workshop is in a state of flux. Our normal routine has been abandoned for the moment in order to pursue new materials and glazes. Before Christmas Mark was recently awarded a United States Artist Fellowship which came with a significant chunk of prize money. Some of the funds have been appropriated for research and development into new glazes from local materials.

View of Mark's house and the pottery from across the pond.

Just before thanksgiving last year Mark and Adrian went on a mission into the NC countryside, coming back with several different types of granite, feldspars, and other potentially useful materials such as apatite and spodumene.

Raw materials.

Since then, Adrian, Mark, I and Stillman Browning-Howe (the next apprentice who will be replacing Adrian) have been processing these materials to make them usable: transforming them from rocks into powders. First we calcine them in the bisque kiln, then tamp them to break the pieces down to pea-size or smaller. Next they go into the ball mill with water for eight hours or so, which breaks the peas down to very fine particles. We empty this out and dry it in large shallow beds. Some of the material settles out badly, which makes it more challenging and time-consuming to transfer to the drying beds. The process is considerable. Lots of moving rocks and digging slurry out of plastic bins!

Apatite out to dry in the sun because we needed some to mix a glaze ASAP.

Close up of the apatite.

Mark came up with various triaxial blends using the new materials, mixed up small batches of them (50g) and applied them to test tiles. We performed a couple of test firings in the small gas kiln and tinkered with the recipes. Whilst all this was going on, we were making pots and bisquing them ready for full tests.

Test tiles galore.

Test tiles.

These were some shinos I tested (most of them not applied thickly enough).

Next stage was mixing up 5lb-20lb batches of the glazes we liked best and trying various combinations on our pots. We are also experimenting with some raw glazes but for these you need approximately 25% clay which tends to muddy the glaze quality. The granite celadons especially look better with less clay making them only suitable as bisque glazes.

Glaze measuring station

Some of the new glaze tests.

Bisque pots awaiting glazing above, raw glazed pots below.

Bisque-ware

Some little yunomi I made for tea or whisky, or whatever tipple you prefer.

Mixture of mugs and yunomi.

Some of my tumblers.

Some of Mark's bisque pots. I love these--they remind me of Greek or Roman wine vessels.

Mark in the midst of a Sunday morning's glazing.

Mark's mugs. Slip trailing in progress.

This past week we loaded the front chamber of Mark's new kiln (built in 2007) and fired it through Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Despite being only the front chamber, it fit a significant amount of pots. We placed different glazes all over the place to see how they react to higher and lower temps. Its very exciting. Now all we have to do is wait and hold our breath! We unload in four or five days and I'll post some photos of the results then.

The new kiln.

Different angle on the new kiln.

Before firing the kiln we re-did the front of the floor to make it nice and flat.

Re-doing the floor of the kiln.

Now here's just some more snowy pictures...

Big pots in the snow. Love the shadows!

Big pot in the snow

The melt is on!

Our vegetable garden is not looking very happy.

The chickens don't like getting cold feet.

Happiness is a bowl of kitchen scraps.

Hamish Jackson 12/7/15 Hamish Jackson 12/7/15

Mark Hewitt Pottery Christmas 2015 Kiln Opening, 94th Firing

We had a hard frost the morning of the kiln opening. I meandered down to the pottery at 8 a.m. to find a crowd of people perusing the barn already. The way it works is that when customers arrive they get given a number and then at 9 a.m. everyone has to leave the barn and line up in the order that they arrived. This allows the early birds to get first pick of the pots they really want.

Shelves fully stacked before the sale.

Everyone's feet were cold but Carol (Mark's wife) had laid on vats of mulled cider and coffee which kept everyone happy. As the morning progressed, the sun came out, the frost melted, and people discarded their scarves. The pots looked very fine lined up in the early light of the day. I could not help being displeased with some of my forms, but overall I was happy with the results from this second cycle of work. My pots have definitely improved and I am getting to grips with Mark's style of decoration and slip trailing. I'll start with some pictures of Mark's pots...

They looked especially proud with the sun peeping over the trees.

Large Mark Hewitt pot.

Detail on the shoulder of one of Mark's big pots.

Large Mark Hewitt pot.

Mostly vases by Mark Hewitt.

Nice ashy pitcher and mugs.

Fat jar and quart pitcher.

Now here are some pics of Adrian's pots. Adrian is the other apprentice at Mark's studio. He's been here for over three years and this will be his last firing in the salt kiln. He certainly has some skills as you can see below. Sweet pots! I have one of his large mixing bowls from this firing and have already greatly enjoyed making bread dough in it.

Platters, mixing bowls and three ten gallons.

Mixing bowls and a ten gallon pot.

Adrian's display with bottles, teapots, salt and pepper shakers, sawanaky's and vases.

My pots are priced lower than Adrian's and much lower than Mark's, and rightly so as I am by far the least experienced, and the pots reflect that. I think the customers like this; it's nice to come and find a bargain! Most of the pots pictured below have sold out now. All of my mugs went to a couple whose son is a school principal; they will be given out to every teacher in the school. That made me happy.

Shot glasses.

Creamers and pitcher (jug)

Little whisky flask (this one is not the best shape but I like the salty black slip on it)

Cannister jar. Mark actually threw this one as an example pot but I forgot it was his and decorated it myself.

Honey pot and three bud vases.

Shot glasses and my one austere straight canister jar.

Barrel mugs.

Canister jar and wasabi dishes.

Mini flower pots!

Medium sized pancheon.

Eager shoppers.

Two shelves of my pots with a little bio.

Lilac slippped mugs.

Honey pot (ash glaze).

Collection of chun pieces.

Butter dish with yellow swirl.

Swirly canister jars and straight mugs.

A sawanaky from last firing and some recent straight mugs.

Honey jar (ash glaze).

If I do not get the chance to post again before Christmas, then I hope you all have a lovely time, eat far too much food, and have much merriment!

Hamish Jackson 11/13/15 Hamish Jackson 11/13/15

A Brief History of Dominique Chickens (and an introduction to our flock)

We got our 18 Dominique chicks in the mail on the 22nd August, so they are about three months old now. Our decision to get Dominique chickens was influenced by the lovely people at the Livestock Conservancy here. The Conservancy's mission is: "To protect endangered livestock and poultry breeds from extinction." They do great work, listing livestock from critical status to recovering and helping people who want to help raise heritage breeds.

Dominiques -- sometimes pronounced "Dominiker" here in the south -- have a long history in the states. When I heard the story of this breed I was sold, so here is the abridged version.

Hello

Dominiques are acknowledged as America's first breed of chicken. They came in to New England with the pilgrims and were sometimes been called "Pilgrim Fowl" or "Puritan Fowl." As early as the 1820s these birds were widely spread across the east of America; Abraham Lincoln even had a flock. They are dual purpose birds; laying well but are also good eating. Back in the day people valued their feathers for stuffing pillows. They are a resilient and adaptable bird, doing well in cool climates as well as warm; their small comb prevents easy freezing. They also enjoy foraging for food and their coloring offers more protection than most from birds of prey (this is good as we see a lot of hawks around our house).

In the mid 19th century, one poultry writer stated Dominique chickens were “so familiar as to need no description,” and an oft-heard expression was “spunky as a Dominicker rooster” (Mother Earth News article, Janet Vorwald Dohner, July 2010). The cocks have been know to kill cats, snakes, and other small beasts. Good for protecting the flock!

However, the introduction of the Plymouth Rock to the market put Dominique's out of fashion and numbers slowly declined. Farmers have tended to favor breeds who either produce more eggs, or grow quicker for meat, specialising rather than choosing dual purpose breeds.

By 1970 there were critically few Dominiques in America; only four flocks left! There were serious concerns about extinction. An organisation called the Dominique Club of America was founded in 1973 and has been promoting them ever since; it now has over 200 members including myself (I recently joined: its only $10 a year). Since then conservation efforts have helped bring Dominiques back to a 'watch' status. It feels good to be raising some rare historical birds. We intend to sell on some chicks in the spring and spread the Dominikers.

Battle for the greens.

This fellow is a cock in the making. His colouring is slightly lighter-more grayish.

Enjoying their fresh turnip greens -- apparently these have lots of calcium in them.

Look at those feathers!

Who you looking at?

This one is slightly smaller than the rest (the runt); she can't seem to walk straight but eats a lot-we have hope. (She's Lauren's favorite).

The chickens spend their time between an outdoor cruiser I built, with an extra rabbit hutch addition on the far end, and our shed (depending on the weather).

The chicken tractor or chicken cruiser.

The idea is to move this around the garden before spring planting so the chickens till and fertilize the rows. Once they are four months old, the chicks should be safe to go out and forage for themselves, coming back to the shed at night.

Cheep cheep.

Now for a tour of our chicken shed -- this was full of junk like old crusty paint cans and broken flower pots. I stripped it and adapted it for the chickens. It has four nest boxes with hardware cloth as a base (so they are self cleaning), with a cupboard above for feed storage.

Shelly lounging out in front of the garden.

Nesting boxes and storage space above for their food.

Roosts and water (the bucket has red nipples underneath that the chicks peck at to get water.

Finally, here are some pictures from the vegetable patch, planted in mid August. I forgot to clean the lens so these pictures are slightly cloudy, but you get the idea.

Our veg patch from the back corner

My new favorite vegetable.

Salad bed

Rainbow chard mixed in with fennel (by accident)

What the sign says.

Kale, glorious kale

Cabbage starting to curl up

Broccoli Raab/Rapini on the right-this stuff is nearly chest height now, its insane.

Parsley and cilantro.

Beetroot!

Borage. This is very spikey and uncomfortable to pick but makes very tasty refreshing tea; tastes like cucumber.

Freshly picked salad

Hamish Jackson 10/24/15 Hamish Jackson 10/24/15

Autumn! And pots!

This last week has been wonderful. Autumn has officially arrived. The trees are shedding their yellow and rusty leaves, it's crisp but the sun has been out shining all day. Bright blue skies and fresh cool air. It's quite a relief after the summer's humidity. The mosquitoes are fading, but some still buzz around, looking for a meal. The pecan trees are heavily laden and dropping their packages all over the place. I have been competing with squirrels and crows for the bounty.

Lovely spot for a cup of tea

There is a squirrel in this picture somewhere.

Swarms of crows hang around until I turn my back, and then they swoop down for the nuts. Until now, I had no idea why a group of crows was dubbed a "murder." Now I do, having seen and heard the hordes. Honestly it's like Game of Thrones. There are tons of them, although none with a third eye (that I have seen).

Nuts, glorious nuts.

It occurred to me that maybe a diet of pecans is making these crows tastier than your average crow, so have been trying to shoot some for the dinner table. They are pretty wily, but so far I have got two. I can report that they are quite tasty; the meat is dark like pigeon, and tastes similar, but more gamey, a little tougher. Lauren isn't so keen. One of them had a nice layer of fat around its breast -- evidence that they are getting fat on my pecans. I hope to perfect and post a recipe for some sort of crow delight soon. I know you can't wait for that.

Stay away, crow.

On to some pots. First a few from the master.


Mark's big pots, awaiting slip trailing.

Mark's large canister jars, pink slip.

Some of Mark's canister jars with red slip banding.

Some of Mark's fat jars out to dry in the sun.

Mark's mugs, plates, and lids.

Big pots in the distance.

This morning a film crew from UNC were in to interview Mark

Adrian's work on the top two shelves, Mark's below.

Now some of my pots, slipped and glazed, ready to be fired.

Pots, pots, pots.

Some flower pots I made a couple of weeks ago.

1 1/2 lb jugs I was grappling with last week.

Juice cups.

Honey jars.

Mixing bowl.

Little creamers.

Mugs.

Bud vases.

Small honey pots.

Flower pots.

Sushi dishes.

I went into the barn to find some pots from the last firing that I'd made. There weren't that many left but here's a sampler.

Baby honey pot.

Hip cups.

Baluster jug.

Hamish Jackson 9/8/15 Hamish Jackson 9/8/15

Getting the Goats

It's been almost two months since I got Lauren two goats to celebrate our first wedding anniversary. We picked them up in Smithfield, a village near our house. They were for sale because the mother goat had started headbutting a baby goat on the farm. Her son came as baggage. We thought twice about getting them due to her violent pedigree, but figured we could tame her.

Cheeky.

Once we gave the okay, the farmer whisked them up and carried them over to the van (on loan from the pottery, and already containing a pottery wheel and electric kiln). They fit just fine behind the kiln, and were good as gold on the way home; no poop and just occasional bleats. Lauren was having second thoughts on the drive back, though. It did seem very real somehow. We had just gained two large animals. I mean they aren't really very large, being Nigerian Dwarf Goats, but still, they were significantly larger than our cats.

What a menacing duo.

We parked the van near our back garden and encouraged them inside. They ran out and started eating the plump-almost-ready grapes off my one single grape vine. I had grand plans for these grapes; visions of wine vanished in seconds. I shooed them away and tried to construct a barrier between goats and grape, but they found a way around it. They also started eating the bark off our pecan tree, some garden furniture I'd made, and they climbed up on the new kiln. Not an ideal start. Every time we looked around, they were doing something naughty. We needed to take charge, so Lauren went and bought leashes and collars for them.

Exhibit A: Grape vine. Bare.

Exhibit B: Bench and stool I constructed with friends over the July 4th weekend. Munched bark.

Exhibit C: Deconstructed compost heap.

Getting the collar/harness on the boy goat (who we dubbed Brendan) was a whole afternoon's work. First we tried catching him by cornering him and leaping after him as he darted away. All this achieved was me laid out on the grass cursing, "Why did we think goats were a good idea?" and ruder exclamations. Brendan would not be caught. Morale was extremely low. I retreated to the Vitamix, made a smoothie, and called home. My parents suggested using food as a lure. Brilliant! I went out there with my delicious-smelling smoothie and sat in the middle of the garden drinking it, ignoring the goats completely, with the harness laid out on the ground next to me. Brendan was like a moth to a flame. Over he came, sniff sniff, lick lick. I directed him to the harness area with the open mouth of the mason jar. He put his head down and stepped one foot into the harness. I grabbed his other leg, inserted it, and pulled up the harness. He was wriggling and shaking, and I couldn't clasp the buckles -- I cried out, "Lauren, LAUREN, come quick, HELP!"

Lauren came out, fixed the harness, and clipped him into the twenty-five foot leash. What a relief that was! Getting Brendan's mum was easier because we had him as bait. After, we took them on a celebratory walk. Walking goats is not like walking dogs. You know how dogs just want to stop and smell everything? Goats just want to stop and eat everything. Especially crunchy dry leaves. I can't imagine that there are many nutrients in dead leaves, but the goats love them.

Their shelter at night (electric kiln covered up and goat-proofed in the background)

Goat morning.

Stairway to heaven = a La-Z-Boy

"Don't you wish you had a neck as long as a giraffe?"

After a few short days with the new livestock, Lauren went on a Birthright trip to Israel and left me alone with them for a month. Before leaving, she organised a castration for Brendan. A nice couple from a local goat dairy came by with a metal tool that looked like a nut cracker. They helped put Brendan into a "goat yoga" position where his legs were tied up and he couldn't move at all. I held him whilst his balls were being inspected. At two months old, these things were gigantic. Really. Much bigger than you would expect. Apparently billie goats are much more placid without all that testosterone floating around.

They found the tube connecting Brendan's juice and clamped it down with the tool. I have never heard anything like it. He cried out like a baby being dropped into an ice bath. "Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaghhhh!!!" It was a long pitiful cry that went right through us. Same again on the other side. "BAAAAAAAAGGHH!!!" Absolutely brutal. But afterwards, he didn't seem to be in any pain, just dazed and happily ate a bowl of food and lay down awhile. It was a closed castration, so no chance of infection and no special recovery time.

Post castration blues.

Yes?

Whilst Lauren was away, I had a system of taking the goats out in the morning and back in at night. I had them leashed to a stake in different parts of the garden to keep them interested and evenly eat back the hedgerow. They were doing a pretty good job, but they kept getting tangled up around branches or logs or each other. Every morning, lunch, and evening I would untangle them. After a couple weeks, I started tethering them to different points, so that they could barely cross paths. It was working well, but then one day disaster struck.

The daily routine -- tangled up in branch.

They love dried leaves more than anything in the world.

It was actually whilst we were firing the kiln. I was set to come in for the 7 to midnight shift, an important time when the kiln must be heavily reducing. At 6:40, I went to check on the goats and found to my horror that they were badly tangled, and laying in an unusual position next to one another. Brendan's collar was all twisted up and had pinched his esophagus. His belly looked bloated and he wasn't moving. Brendan's mum was lying patiently next to him, her head pressed up against his. I took her off the leash and she wandered off to leave me to untangle Brendan. I worked fast, fleetingly thinking I might be able to save him. As the collar loosened, a hiss of air was released and his stomach flattened. He was stiff: nothing could be done. Brendan's mum came back in and sniffed the area, confused. Finding him like that was shocking, but the saddest part was Brendan's mum not knowing where he'd gone. She trotted around the whole place looking for him, not understanding.

Brendan's mum.

It was challenging to stay focused on firing the kiln that night, and very sad to have to break the news to Lauren, who was in Tel Aviv about to catch a flight home. I take full responsibility for what happened. I knew this was a possibility given the fact that they kept getting tangled, and I should have installed a proper fence so that they could roam freely. It was bad animal management and not a good start to my livestock care.

After my kiln shift, I watched several YouTube videos on goat butchery. The next morning, at first light I got up and skinned him. He was very healthy and had a nice layer of fat. I took the innards into a field for the vultures, kept some hide and hair for making paint brushes, and buried his head in the garden. The meat went into the freezer. I did slow cook some and bring it to the end of the kiln firing to share with the crew. Everyone agreed that Brendan was very tasty. We have since had a wonderful Moroccan-inspired tagine. There is some consolation to the tragedy, some silver lining.

He was really cute, I'll give him that. R.I.P. Brendan.

So now we're down to one goat. You shouldn't keep a goat alone because they're such social animals, but Brendan's mum actually seemed more relaxed after he was gone. This only lasted a couple of weeks, though, and then she became more anxious. Yesterday we decided to give her to a couple who run a nearby goat farm. They liked her markings and will breed her. She's part of a herd now, and apparently she's settling in well with the other goats. But we were sad tonight when there was no goat to give our empty corn husks to.

Here's a tiny video of them...

Hamish Jackson 7/25/15 Hamish Jackson 7/25/15

The Great Sawanky Debacle of July 2015

Before we get to the debacle, let me set the scene. I am sat out on the porch enjoying a glass of iced Darjeeling tea, listening to a toy plane buzzing way overhead. Dragonflies and bugs snap and fizz close by, competing for my attention. The air is so alive here in North Carolina, thick with possibility and life. The pecan tree in front of our house is waving quietly in the breeze, casting a shadow over me and despite it being 2p.m., the temperature is relatively pleasant.

The last couple of weeks at the pottery have been demanding in various ways. We are getting ready to fire the kiln soon, so there has been kiln shelf grinding and prop cleaning to do. We use a heavy duty grinder with a diamond pad for the shelves, which makes the process quite fast, but lifting them onto the sawhorses and back takes its toll. They are thick, made out of silicon carbide and each weighs about 50lbs. The dust gets everywhere, so you have to wear a respirator and full length trousers/shirt; this gets pretty warm in the 95 degree heat. But it's not so bad; living so close by I come home for lunch and can have a shower. We only spend the mornings doing manual labour, and then get to throw pots or decorate them in the afternoons.

During the last couple of weeks I have been trying to figure out how to throw Sawanky jars. These are an old traditional form originally from a town in Northern Thailand called Sawankhalok. Here is an example below from 14th-15th century. The ones I am throwing will have a similar shape -- Mark has adapted it to his style -- with no handles.

Northern Thai Pottery Jar with Provenance, 14-15th C.

Image from here

Here are the examples I had on the window sill in front of me whilst throwing:

John (the apprentice before me) made the one on the left and Mark made the one on the right.

Mark's is impossibly fat. So fat. So much belly. When you have one on the wheel it seems like if you go any wider then the whole thing will collapse, and indeed often they do as you go for that final widening move. They also often split around the belly.

The first ones I made were nowhere near as fat as these, or anywhere near as large as the demonstration pot Mark threw for me. He told me they looked "boney." I had to agree. They seemed anemic in comparison to those on my window ledge. It's challenging throwing a new form for the first time, but especially when your teacher can stretch the clay so thin and still be in control. There were lots of nearly Sawanky's and not so many actual Sawanky's. But I think it's okay; Mark hasn't been pressuring me to make lots of pots, just to try to get the forms right. He told me that in time I'll be able to make more and they will get lighter. Form is the most important thing for now.

My second attempts. You will read below what happened to my first ones. Spoiler-its not good.

Another challenging feature of the Sawanky are the lids, which are thrown upside down in a domed shape and then trimmed and knobbed the next day. You try to make all of the openings the same width (measuring with calipers) and then take a precise measurement for the inside diameter of the lids. Of course this doesn't work if you drop your calipers and bodge the measurement.

Most of first batch of lids simply did not cut it -- they were way too small. So I had to cover my jars and make more lids, to trim and knob the next day. Even putting the knobs on is tricky. I am getting better at tap centering (making sure the lid is centered before you start trimming), but still this process can take a frustratingly long time. The knobs are small and shaped like little lozenges. Its fiddly work, using one forefinger and a pinky to squeeze the tiny lump of clay into the shape required.

But, and so. Finally. I am finished, I have my set of lids and bodies, ready to be matched up with my fully knobbed lids. Here's where the shit hits the fan.

Lids

It was the afternoon after grinding shelves, which is no excuse, but I was more tired than usual. In the process of consolidating the pots from two boards to one, I had them overhanging the bench. Can you guess what happened? Most of the pots were stacked close to me and not enough down at the other end as a counter balance. All at once my board of lids seesawed up and the lids slid off, crashing onto the floor. In trying to save the board I flung my arm out and the board of sawanky's to my left came crashing down too.

Absolute nightmare. Shame washed over me. The humidity coagulated in my head, as if it was about to explode. I felt like screaming. So much work on the floor. But there was some solace. At least they were my pots and not Mark's or Adrian's. It was actually good for me to learn this mistake with my pots, and to be honest (as some of my first attempts at the form), they should have probably ended up in the reclaim anyway. But still, I felt pretty rotten and self-loathing for a while. I think I went home and cleaned the house really thoroughly as penance.

A survivor.

On a lighter note, Mark and Carol have an enormous blueberry bush which is fruiting at the moment, so Adrian and I have been indulging in some berry picking after work. Blueberry porridge as been my staple breakfast and last week I made a blueberry cheesecake which was rather good.