 |
| Jerardo & Me with my fired pot |
I
spent this last week in a class with Mata Ortiz master potter, Jerardo Tena
Sandoval. The tarry lump of black clay I
received, directly from the Mata Ortiz hills, was fundamentally different from
the product I pull from bags at home. It was sticky and thick with a stubborn
tenacity that enables it to be formed into incredibly thin walls in any
direction. The available clays there range
in colors from blue to yellow, white, red and beige, most of which fire to a
brown color in oxidation but all can be turned black in reduction. One of my favorite effects from Mata Ortiz is
their black on black, especially those with the metallic mirror quality. Apparently, however, that effect requires a
lot of powdered graphite combined with diesel fuel, so we did not experiment
with it in Healdsburg. We did have some
dark blue-black clay whose blueness only ghostly remained in the reduction firing.
 |
| Jerardo Tena Sandoval |
We began
by flattening the ball into a tortilla and pressing it into the curved plaster
form for the bottom. Using a rib made
from credit cards cut into circles, or Jerardo’s favorite tool, a plastic toy
tea saucer, we pressed the clay into the base and began pinching up the sides. We added a “chorizo” of clay to the lip to
make it taller, continuing to pinch and push.
The most effective tool for me was the hacksaw blade that we used
tooth-side first to unify the wall by pulling clay into depressions and
eliminating high points. Unlike normal
throwing techniques of plenty of water, we had to keep our hands clean and dry
to prevent marring the surface with dried clay. Then, lightly dampened, we ran
the back/smooth side of the blade across the surface to further smooth it. This clay, while strong enough to reach
maturity in a brief but hot 30-minute firing, is extremely sensitive to
moisture. It dries slowly and is quick
to crack if the moisture is uneven.
Sadly Jerardo recalled how, after three months of painting, a humid wind
caused a crack in the wall of a large pot with jaguars on the lip.
 |
Painting in Joann's studio. Hating it ans
convincing myself to stay |
For two
days, we left the pots to dry then returned to sand them. “This is what it sounds like in the village,”
Joann commented as we all settled in with our 100-grit paper. Dried, the clay is like cement, requiring vigorous,
lengthy, arm-straining work to smooth the surface. The more you sand, the more you can see the
tiny divots as they filled with contrasting clay dust and demanded more
sanding. Once finished with that, you
move on to 200-grit paper and finally, 300-grit, until you have “baby-butt”
smooth pots. Being of an impatient
nature, I quickly tired of this and again increased my respect for the perfect surfaces
of the Mata Ortiz pots.
To
burnish, we rubbed baby oil all over the pot and waited for it to dry. Then we rubbed a small section with a damp
cloth and rubbed it with a tumbled stone.
This turned the surface bright and reflective. Finally we were ready for the decorative step
and made paintbrushes from Jerardo’s daughter’s hair. The paintbrush for the fine line work
consists of only 8 hairs and is almost 2 inches from the tip of the brush to
the tip of the wood. Jerardo loads the
brush with paint, lays it on the surface of the pot and slowly drags it. In demonstration, he painted a grid where the
gaps between the lines were only the thickness of the paintbrush. It made me cross-eyed just watching him.
I
attempted painting in the Mata Ortiz style, naturally choosing to depict an
octopus as goes my fixation.
Unfortunately, the precision paintbrushes are more inclined toward
straight lines than curly ones. “What do
you do if you mess up?” asked one of my fellow students. “Change the design!” smirked Jerardo. I
became so frustrated I had to talk myself out of leaving. I made a mess of my pot. Finally I asked Joann if she had a needle
tool so I could revert to my accustomed technique. She handed me an inscriber, designed for
etching into metal, and I was in heaven.
I was able to make curved lines, correct the edges of my paint job and,
feeling joyous once again, dared to erase my stilted lines with the dampened
rag and re-burnish. My pot was cracked
already anyway.
 |
| Oxidation firing completed |
 |
| Reduction Firing completed |
The next
day we brought our pots to be fired to another potter’s home in
Forestville. Since it had rained, we had
to construct an additional fire to dry the area and heat the ground. Meanwhile we preheated the pots in the
oven. Apparently this is done in Mata
Ortiz by holding the pots over a fire, but since we had an oven, we used it,
bringing the pots slowly up to 450 degrees.
When the first fire died down, we pulled the coals away and placed three
bricks under a metal drum cut to 1/3 height.
Inside the drum, a BBQ grill, held from the bottom with a few kiln bricks,
supported the heated pots retrieved from the oven wrapped in towels and quickly
transferred. A loose metal lid kept
oxygen flowing through the drum but prevented the smoke from turning the pots
black (oxidation firing). We piled
kindling around the drum and on top, doused it with lighter fluid and let it
burn for ½ hour. For the subsequent
reduction firing, the drum was inverted and sealed over the pots and a bed of
sawdust both to burn out the oxygen and provide more smoke. In this firing, the painted areas, originally
white for greatest contrast, turned matt black and the unpainted, burnished
areas turned a deep glossy black.
I was
honored when Jerardo, the master potter, complimented my pot, and I was proud
to be in the company of fellow artisans.
In Mata Ortiz, a town made famous by the revival of ancient pottery
techniques using the most locally available resources, a potter is only granted
the name of “Master” if he or she can perform every step of the process from
harvesting the clay and paint ingredients from the surrounding hills,
processing them, forming pots, making paintbrushes, burnishing, painting, and
firing them. In Peace Corps, I had
notions of creating such an industry in my own site where clay was plentiful. In
studying Mata Ortiz and the years of experimentation it has taken them to
arrive where they are today, I realize finally that it was not my lack of
ambition that prevented it from occurring, but a sense of scale. It took Juan Quezada and fellow potters
around 20 years to develop what they are still perfecting today. They just celebrated the 50 year anniversary
of the first perfectly fired pot of this revival movement. I have found my respectful place in this
historical context. I can stand proud
next to this master potter, as a skilled potter myself, and part of a global community
of mud-slingers. After all, this incredible art form that has developed
simultaneously in most parts of the world in limitless variability is evidence
of human ingenuity and our innate drive toward creativity.
 |
| Panther-lipped pot Jerardo worked on in class |
 |
| Jerardo's effigy |
 |
| Jerardo's ram |
Mata
Ortiz Contact info:
MataOrtizCalendar.com or Mata Ortiz
Calendar on FB.
If you’re interested in buying any of
Jerardo’s pottery you can contact him at Jerardo Tena Sandoval via FB.
If you are interested in having classes
with Jerardo in the Bay Area, call Joann Cassady at 707 431-8319, email:
joann@imakepots.com or Joann Cassady via FB.
So we put the box on a white sheet on the ground (to help the crawling bees not get lost in other debris) and we rigged up a scoop at the end of a paint roller extension and we began whittling down the swarm, two cups at a time. And it was a big swarm, possibly double-queened. I would fill the scoop and pass the apparatus down to John's assistant and she emptied it on the sheet in front of the entrance to the bee box. Luckily, on the second or third scoop, I apparently grabbed the queen because they began that adorable marching behavior, identical orientation and military-neat formation. Each subsequent scoop followed suit.
