at the bottom of a dirty bucket.
Further to yesterday: the only recipe for which I had flux available was one using alkaline frit. So I weighed and slopped and began to sieve and belatedly discovered that the lumps of frit were not dispersible conglomerations but solid as concrete. After bashing with half a brick they still looked like this:
A sealed pack of frit was also trying to turn itself into lumps, though not yet fully gone off. I have dolloped some of that into the mix (and it did more or less sieve through) but have no idea how much to add. The lumps I removed can’t be weighed accurately as they are now wet, and will also have bits of the other ingredients stuck to them.
Oh well – everything about the next batch of ware will be experimental, so what’s another experiment …?
36 hours, and being Dickens there is a lot of redundancy, so it doesn’t matter if your attention wanders for a minute or two. This came in handy for a number of very dull jobs, and in fact is well read. I find Boz quite annoying, but every now and then I can’t help bursting into laughter,
One of the dull jobs: skipped it last year, but now it’s back to stirring and reconstituting neglected glazes, dried to solid discs at the bottom of pots. Also hunting for a low temperature glaze recipe which – and this is the key thing – uses up those bags of ingredients already sitting dustily on the shelf. Gerstley borate? No. Lead bisilicate? No. EPK? No. Ummm…
it’s a seasonal thing at any time, but after a long … long … sabbatical it was odd to sit to the wheel again. In fact, so long that I am impressed that it still goes at all. Best £50 I ever spent.
And after what seems like weeks sorting out the workshop, it’s good to have some new ware to put in it. Miniatures, so I can fool around with some new techniques. Don’t know what they will be yet, but one might work.
Mixed feelings about returning to former occupations after the experiment.
The first batch of beach clay is drying off; the weather still chilly, so it is slow waiting,
while the next batch is slopping down:
Tackling the garden under the buds and catkins of the geriatric birch (surviving another season of gales)
The first grass cut is always wearing. It’s long and saturated and intractable, but there are consolations …
… their dancing presents a challenge to the amateur photographer.
The hammering gales have dropped back. (Click thumbnail for gallery)
although it was quite a pretty sea. I provided myself with a sturdy driftwood plodge prodder and went fossicking for plodge along the cliff line.
The sandstone was not useful
and nor was the iron.
Prospecting marks definitely are useful at decision time; I saw one or two puzzled faces as I walked backwards down the beach making them.
The colours are tempting, but too knobbly to collect.
I suppose one might want a giant supermarket one day … so I went to find it, just in case. (Click an image for the gallery)
Someone forgot to turn on the rain. (Click a thumbnail for the gallery)