Before 24 Billion and Counting

Chapter 12 Part 1 Uncovering the past

I awoke around seven with the smell of toast in my nostrils and the single flat bell of the church ringing for the early morning service in my ears. The sun was striking across one window of the bedroom and I busied myself with ablutions in a happy frame of mind. 

I had arranged to go to the pottery at ten, and I decided to walk there, taking only lap top and camera. Dorothea was in her shop, and told me to go through to the workshop. Tomaso was rolling the tray of pots into the interior of the kiln, and nodded to me whilst completing the delicate operation. Once the door was secure and the thermostat checked, the circulation fan cut in, and the initial drying cycle started. Tomaso set the temperatures and times for the remainder of the firing and then turned to me. "Chris told me it took him a year to get these process times right to get the best glaze. Did you sleep?" 

"I did and it was a kind thought to send me the night cap." 

"Would you like to throw a pot?" 

"I would." 

He gave me an overall, and said, "I'll show you one first and then you'll see." 

He went to the clay bath and took two lumps of clay. Putting one aside he took the other and setting the electric wheel in motion wetted it and then forming the clay into a round ball in his hands pressed it down into the centre of the wheel, roughly getting the lump centred. 

Wetting his hands he squeezed the clay into a column and pressed it back a few times. "Do this to make sure there are no lumps - and the clay is uniform, and centred on the wheel - now we make a cylinder" and so he did. "And now we put the hole in it." Using fingers within the cylinder and supporting the periphery with the other hand he formed a hole which grew in height and diameter as the wall thinned. "And now we make our shape." Continuing the process of thinning the wall now very gently and with great care he coaxed the cylinder into the familiar pear shape of the terra cotta pots. Then with even lighter touches he formed the beading of the rim of the open top and then the round bottom, leaving a shallow neck attached to the wheel. The whole process took not more than five minutes. Stoppiong the wheel, he then took a wire and cut the pot from the wheel at the base, transferred it to a large broad knife and put it on the drying table. 

He sat me behind the wheel and said, "First get the feel of clay before you make the pot. When you think you're ready, make your hole. Then play with it some more. From then on don't get it too wet or it'll flop. Then make the pot. Don't make it too thin." 

I tried to reproduce what he'd shown me. He had given me the same amount of clay but after the fifteen minutes it took me to get to the pot shape it was two thirds the size of his. It was a very visceral experience and again I had these feelings of shared memories with Chris. Tomaso said nothing until I put my pot beside his.

"You have done this before." 

"No - never - anyway my pot's smaller than yours." 

"Ahh that comes with many years - having the courage in your fingertips to make it that little bit thinner. You should make pots - you're a natural - as Chris was." 

"It's satisfying but I'm exhausted with the tension." 

"That would go with time - it gets to be second nature - the control you're now putting in with your brain becomes knowledge in your muscles, and the pot comes direct from your soul." 

Dorothea came in, "Look Dor - his first one - he's a natural."  

Dorothea said, "Either that or he's kidding! I've got some customers who want to see some pots being thrown." 

"Carry on Charles." 

"Hey I'll ruin your reputation." 

"I think not."