Predictably I’ve come up with a name for my pottery, even though it’s a new thing that isn’t really off the ground yet. Parsnip Pottery. No amazingly deep meaning – I’ve had a rat called Parsnip, a beautiful black Essex-marked boy who died fairly young, I also like roast parsnips very much indeed, yum, and the word has a good feel to it. Nicely hobbyish, not pretentious or too serious.
I’ve spent most of the morning wedging and kneading clay. It’s actually an enjoyable task, taking my reclaimed clay, my throwing failures and the hard clay from the bag and mixing it all together to get set up for the next few days of clay play. I begin with the piles of different hardness and cut them into slices to make layers that let me mix them all together. Then I take the big block and cut slices across the previous direction, turning the slices as I pile them to get the maximum mix. The final step is to take 2kg lumps to knead, and as I knead it slowly gets less lumpy and sticky, becoming more plastic and almost silky to the touch. There you have it, eight amazing little parcels of potential. It’s making me smile just to look at the photo.
I’m starting to hit a storage problem right now. My shelves are already full of books and stuff, so there’s limited space for the pots. I’m going to have to start keeping just the best and recycling the rest. That’s probably a good thing for quality control. I’ve got the next week off work, so I need to start finding space in the garage for a kiln. I don’t think I can contain myself much longer without starting to play with surface decoration. Obsessive or what?
Finally, we have a damp-box full of stuff to decorate and/or add handles to. More fun!