As I mentioned in my previous post, I have been inspired to do more qinghua (blue flower) painting on my pottery pieces since returning from my trip to Jingdezhen. Since I had a few greenware cups, I spent some time practicing brush techniques on them — drawing lines, filling in areas. The painted pieces came out of bisque firing today and here are a couple of them, ready for glazing.

These cups have relatively simple bunny designs, but they perfectly represent my feelings today: the bunny on the left is before glazing, the bunny on the right is three hours later, after glazing.

Glazing is such a time-consuming and often frustrating process… and I managed to make it even more so today with my fancy (crazy) glazing ideas. I really hope I didn’t completely ruin the pieces with my experimenting.

Yes, as always, I’ll just have to wait and see.

Having returned from Jingdezhen, I feel inspired to do more painting on my pottery pieces. More specifically, I would like to do more qinghua painting.

Qinghua refers to the traditional Chinese “blue and white” painting technique that involves the application of cobalt pigment to white porcelain. The Chinese characters for qinghua (青花) translate directly to “blue flower.”

This type of ceramic decoration is still widely practiced in Jingdezhen, so it was amazing to have the opportunity to attend a qinghua painting workshop in the city that has produced more blue and white porcelain pieces than any other in the world. A local artisan with over twenty years of painting experience spent a couple hours with us, demonstrating and explaining the technique.

We were first shown how to prep the green ware pieces for paint application by dusting them and brushing on tea (any tea will do). Then we were taught how to mix the paint to the right consistency, adding a type of gum to the cobalt pigment in order to facilitate a smooth and continuous stroke. The next step was learning how to hold and use two different types of brushes — a small, fine-tipped one to make thin lines, and a bigger “chicken head” brush to fill in larger areas. Lastly, we were taught how to fix mistakes — scratch it off, smooth it over, and start again. We finally got to work on the porcelain green ware that was provided for us to practice on.

Here is one of the pieces I painted prior to glazing and firing. As you can see, the paint is a dark grayish color here.

During the workshop, I learned that qinghua painting requires patience and a steady hand. The pigment can easily smudge with too much handling. Having made some mistakes on my pieces, I didn’t have high hopes for the final product. But I had to wait for a couple of days before I got to see it. After we had completed our pieces, they were sent to the “glaze man” (a person in charge solely of applying glaze to ceramics) before being fired in a public kiln.

When we finally went to pick up the finished pieces, I was pleasantly surprised. I have to say that the pieces turned out better than I expected. They’re not great — the brush strokes are terribly uneven and inconsistent — but the deep blue of the cobalt is so beautiful on its own against the white porcelain. (Note: you can see how thin and translucent the porcelain is as the cobalt on the outside of the vessel is visible.)

I picked up a couple small canisters of qinghua paint to bring home with me, so I’m gonna be trying this technique over the next little while!

Wow. What an experience. I am super excited to share about my trip to Jingdezhen (a.k.a. the porcelain capital of China), but will need some time to absorb and process all the sights and sounds and information from the past few days… and a lot more time to sort through all my photos!

In the meantime, check out these awesome figurines I spotted at one of the local public kilns (notice the orange glow of the large and very hot kiln in the background) — these guys look like they’re ready for a good kungfu fight; that is, if they’re not already engaged in one!

Here is a random photo of some shavings from my mishima work today. I was in the middle of cleaning up and stopped to snap a shot — I like how it looks like sand art.

On to much more exciting news…

It’s official. I’ve booked the flights and hostel room and paid the rest of the trip fees for my upcoming trip to Jingdezhen. I’ll be flying on Friday.

Jingdezhen is a city situated in the hills of Jianxi province in China. It has a long history of producing porcelain, in particular the blue and white type, also known as “china.” In fact, it is often referred to as the “porcelain capital” of the country and has been the center of the industry for over 1,700 years.

While I have a feeling the city has probably lost some of its historical charm with the ongoing mass production of porcelain ware, I am still excited to tour some studios and watch local artisans at work. We’ve got a pretty packed schedule, which includes a Qinghua (traditional Chinese blue and white painting) workshop, a visit to the Sanbao ceramics village, and time to explore the local creative market.

I will report back with photos!

I am a fan of yunomis. You can say I like smallish pots, especially ones that can hold a couple gulps of tea. It would come as no surprise to those that know me, as I am a sucker for cute little things.

The Japanese term “yunomi,” based on a basic understanding, simply refers to a form of ceramic tea cup that has certain characteristics. They are generally cylindrical forms, greater in height than in width, with a trimmed or turned foot. Yunomis do not have handles. With respect to function, they are made for daily use rather than for traditional formal tea ceremonies.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, the first thing I threw on the wheel was a yunomi. Many have come after that first one. I mean, it’s the most basic form to throw when you’re starting out: “the assignment: throw a cylinder… or fifty.” After getting the walls relatively straight, one moves on to shaping, adding those lovely little curves.

Before you know it, you’ve got an oddball collection of yunomis.

Up until half a year ago, I was merely a consumer of ceramics and not a creator. While I had dabbled in hand built pottery during a high school art course, I had never seriously spent time considering the infinite possibilities that ceramics offer as a creative outlet. After getting my hands dirty again a few months ago, there was no going back. Pottery is such a different art form compared to photography, which in the digital age has become sterile and mess-free (no risk here of splashing or inhaling hazardous chemicals while developing my jpegs).

Having spent some time concentrating on developing photography skills, I found pottery accessed a completely different creative side in me. Photography is all about capturing and fixing in time something that already exists — light, objects, space. By contrast, pottery is about changing, over time, an existing, usually formless, material into something else entirely.

I have to say it’s very addictive.

Pottery is necessarily hands-on and (at least for me) therapeutically time-consuming. The initial manipulation of a ball or slab of clay is at once raw, refreshing and full of possibility. When one takes the time to consider what can be done, the potential in unformed clay is mind-blowing. Often there are days when I pick up a chunk of clay and find myself asking, “Now what?” Will it be pinched, coiled, wheel-thrown, or moulded? Will it be a cup, a bowl, a vase, a sculpture? Will it have distinct lines, soft curves, sharp angles, or a combination?

But it’s not only about creating a form. One of my absolute favorite things is surface treatment. I am always excited about trying various glaze combinations, incorporating textures, and utilizing a combination of decoration techniques. As a result, I am constantly creating pieces that are completely different from the one before it.

The possibilities are endless… and here is a drop in the bucket.