A Successful Day At Auction & A Connection To An Important Welsh Ceramics Collection

Two auction attendees contemplate their bidding strategy
Photo: Chronica Domus

It has been an age since I was motivated enough to haul my caboose out of the house on a weekend morning to attend a live auction. One bright and sunny day last month, my husband and I did just that, taking our ringside seats at the hottest event in town.  Fellow ceramics collectors, clutch your paddles tight.  I am about to show you what it was that had me so revved up. 

While some attending the sale anticipated successful bids on the Picassos, Chagalls, or Dalis on offer, it was the numerous lots of English ceramics of the late-eighteenth to early-nineteenth century that lured me in like a fish to water.  Now, let me preface my scribblings by stating that in my part of the world, stumbling across a piece of early porcelain or creamware on my travels is a rare thing indeed.  These utilitarian (and fragile) articles were, after all, manufactured in potteries located on the other side of the world, on a small island over two centuries ago.  Bearing all that in mind, you can well imagine my delight at being confronted by the glorious vision captured in the photograph below:

A display case chock-full of early Wedgwood and Spode creamware table articles
spells danger for this particular addict collector
Photo: Chronica Domus

And, for admirers of early drabware ceramics, feast your eyes on this:

No, this is not a decorative arts museum's exhibit but the contents of a
single lot for sale at auction

Photo: Chronica Domus

Or, how about some neoclassically decorated English porcelain?  There was plenty of that to go around too.

Yes, please!

Photo: Chronica Domus

A Coalport tea service in a pretty orange and gilt pattern, circa 1820
Photo: Chronica Domus

After a brief confab with my husband, it was settled.  One of the creamware lots would - fingers crossed - be going home with us.  Spotting at least one other interested party circling the display cases and pacing between the creamware and the silver lots, we might be up against competition.

The lot that piqued our interest happened to be the final one of the early ceramics.  First under the auctioneer's gavel was the drabware, sold to an Internet bidder at, astonishingly, less than the bottom end of estimate.  Next, the first of two lots of Spode Greek pattern.  That too sold at a very reasonable hammer price. The creamware was next ...

Sold! ... Nine pieces of Wedgwood's Flute and Wreath pattern

Photo: Chronica Domus

Sold!... Wedgwood's Etruscan Pattern 42 in red and black and
Pattern 93 in yellow and black enamel, circa 1785 - 1790

Photo: Chronica Domus

Sold!... Five pieces (two out of range of this photograph) of Wedgwood's Pattern 94
Photo: Chronica Domus

Sold!... A large covered dish in brown and yellow enamel and an integral sauce tureen

Photo: Chronica Domus

Bidding was fast and furious and after several of the English porcelain lots came and went, it was time to take my paddle to hand and steel myself for the battle ahead. It helps, of course, to have the support of one's dear husband who is not such a bag of nerves when it comes to these matters. He usually wields the paddle but on this occasion, I found the strength to raise my own. As luck would have it, the experience was not at all intimidating. It did help that I was the only interested bidder. Sold! to the lady who almost fainted from the rush of excitement when the gavel finally dropped. We were going home with not one but two shelves full of delicious creamware plates and serving dishes (seen in the second top photograph of this post).

The winning lot!

Photo: Chronica Domus

Accompanying the stack of ten plates is a large shapely serving dish in the same hand-painted geometric pattern.  

It is hard to believe that this pristine Wedgwood serving dish is over 200 years old

Photo: Chronica Domus

A pair of Spode creamware supper dishes painted in a similar orange and black

enamel to the Wedgwood pieces are also included in the lot

Photo: Chronica Domus

The story of the winning ceramics doesn't quite end here.  A further serving dish included in the lot yielded a clue as to the previous owner.  It is always an exciting prospect to ponder where such humble household articles began their life, how they were used, and who cared for them along the way.  

Aha! A clue to where these dishes once lurked

Photo: Chronica Domus

Who might Grant-Davidson be I wonder?

Photo: Chronica Domus

A collector's label affixed to the underside of the dish prompted a little Internet sleuthing which soon revealed the identify of Grant-Davidson as the author of the following book:

Source

Yes, that's right, my new old creamware dishes once formed part of the private collection of internationally recognized ceramics expert Mr. Wallace James Grant-Davidson.  

Mr. Wallace James Grant-Davidson proudly showing off part of his ceramics collection

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Mr. Grant-Davidson, a historian and authority on Welsh pottery, was also an extraordinary lifetime collector of eighteenth and nineteenth century British porcelain and ceramics.  Following his death in 1999, Sotheby's was charged with dispensing the collection which included pieces of Whieldon, redware, stoneware, pratt-type wares, delftware, Staffordshire and Sunderland lustreware as well as creamware.  The collection was broken up into 270 lots that raised a sum of £110,975.

It is a rare privilege indeed to be privy to information on the provenance of newly acquired items at auction beyond, of course, what the seller provides the auction house.  This is why I was so pleased to discover the collection label attached to the underside of one of my plates.  The label led me to some fascinating information released by Sotheby's in the run up to the sale.  It identifies exactly where these dishes last resided during their two-hundred year history:

"The whole house was decorated with the china", Mrs. Margaret Grant-Davidson said; "every room had pieces on the walls, it covered the walls in the study, the bedroom, the dining room and even up the stairs!  My husband was a true collector, he brought what he liked.  I was married to him for more than 60 years and he was so meticulous and kept everything.  It is taking me a long time to sort things out and I am still finding things that I never knew we had.  I have kept many items as the house would be bare otherwise". 

It is pleasing to imagine that a humble Welsh house in Swansea was once home to such an extraordinary and well-loved collection of ceramics.  And now, here in my own humble abode, half way across the world, Mr. Grant-Davidson's dishes have somehow found their way to me.  I wonder where they'll end up next?  Until that day dawns, I look forward to using and enjoying my creamware, and setting it atop my period appropriate English mahogany dining table, alongside period glassware and silver.  Who knows, perhaps table and plate might have already met at a long-past luncheon or dinner party. 

Now, if you'll please excuse me, I'm off to hatch a plan for my creamware's coming out party ...

A Bird-Themed Silver Lustre Creamware Jug To Mark National Audubon Day

Photo: Chronica Domus

Today, April 26, is National Audubon Day.  It is the day that Franco-American ornithologist John James Audubon (b. April 26, 1785 d. January 27, 1851) is commemorated.  Audubon is best known for his color-plate publication The Birds of America (1827 - 1838).  The multi-volume tome is still considered to be one of the finest ornithological works ever published and contains 435 hand-colored plates of North American birds placed within their natural habitats. The illustrations are a feast for the eyes.  

I'm sure many of you are familiar with Audubon's work, here is

"Blue Crane or Heron" from the book The Birds of America (1827 - 1838)

Source

Early this morning, after replenishing the seed in the bird feeder which hangs from the pear tree in my garden, I thought I would mark the day by making a simple flower arrangement using an appropriately decorated vessel.  Of course, as you can guess, the vessel is bird-themed.

The creamware pitcher I used was made in England during the first quarter of the nineteenth century.  It is hand-painted using purple enamel (or would that be puce?), and silver lustre (or would that be silver resist?).  There is some debate in the ceramics world as to when exactly it was that the silver decoration, commonly referred to as silver lustre, was first utilized by the English potteries and ceramics factories.  In fact, it turns out that the metallic decoration is not derived from silver at all. While researching this post, I happily stumbled across an excellent and absorbing article published by Johnson Matthey Plc, found here.  It details how platinum came to be used to mimic the effect of silver on these early ceramic pieces.  And, although the label I found adhered to the base of my jug identifies it as having been manufactured between 1790 - 1800, the Johnson Matthey article states the first use of "silver" decoration began slightly later in 1805.  It was John Hancock of Hanley in Stoke-on-Trent who invented the lustrous decorative glaze while working at the Spode factory. 

The label on the underside of my jug reads "Leeds: Resist Lustre Period 1790 - 1800"

Photo: Chronica Domus

This type of decoration is known as silver lustre or more accurately as silver resist or steel resist lustre and is achieved by painting the design - in this case the foliage - with glue and a glycerin or honey mixture which is washed away after the jug has been dipped in the platinum lustre prior to firing

Photo: Chronica Domus

Another view of the silver resist and purple (or puce) enamel decoration

Photo: Chronica Domus

I purchased the jug from an antiques shop one day while visiting my husband's uncle and aunt.  The shop is but a short distance by car from their house.  I happened to spot the jug sitting in a locked glass case in the back of the shop.  The dealer who opened the case for me made it impossible to walk away empty handed.  "I've had this jug for ten years and I want it to go to a good home" he said.  "If you like it, I will sell it to you for half the sticker price".  What the dealer did not know was that I had every intention of buying his lavishly decorated jug as not only did I find the piece to be rather pretty, but it was also in excellent condition with not a crack, chip, or nibble to be found upon it.  Frankly, I was astonished it had languished behind glass for an entire decade.  The dealer's offer certainly sweetened the deal and I am thrilled to have added the pitcher to my ever-increasing ceramics collection.  Below is an almost identical one sold at auction six years ago.

Here's a mate to my jug, sold at auction in 2012 and described as a silver resist lustre 
Leeds "songbird on a fence" jug, circa 1810 - 1815

Source

Before I get too carried away with the details of the vessel's decoration, here it is in situ, in our drawing room.  It holds lusciously dense panicles of lilac, the color of which is almost indistinguishable to the painted song bird decoration.  

An arrangement of lilacs in celebration of National Audubon Day

Photo: Chronica Domus

Today, I encourage you all to venture outdoors and enjoy a little bird song, and to also appreciate the local variety of birds flying freely through the (hopefully) blue skies of your neighborhood.

John James Audubon 1785 - 1851

by John Syme

Source

Within a few minutes of stepping into my own garden this morning, I have already heard the squawking of a Scrub Jay, the gentle cooing of a Mourning Dove, and the buoyant chirping of a multitude of Sparrows.  What a joy and a privilege it is to experience such an agreeable nature-borne melody.  Do please tell me what birds you might happen to hear singing in your garden today.

A Porcelain Mystery Object

Photo: Chronica Domus

It just dawned on me that the last time I published a post on a mystery object was last February.  So, today I present you with another, a little porcelain drummer boy, for your consideration.

The object is a scant taller than an inch in height and is attractively decorated in pleasing muted tones.  Although he requires no other companions, there are plenty more where he came from.

Do please tell me what you think his purpose is.  I will reveal all in my next post.

Happy guessing!

In Support of Small Business Saturday

About five years ago I began to notice posters going up in certain neighborhoods at this time of the year, encouraging shoppers to patronize small businesses.  It only dawned on me recently that those posters were advertising something known as Small Business Saturday, the day directly following the dreaded Black Friday.  I am sure you are already well versed in the concept of Black Friday shopping but in case you are not, it involves frantically racing around department stores and big box chains, often to the point of the ridiculous, even during the wee hours of the morning (aka midnight),  in search of bargains. Surely, I am not alone when I say that the entire idea of Black Friday could not be more unpalatable. I suppose that is the reason why Small Business Saturday came into being.

Supporting small independent neighborhood businesses is nothing new to me.  In fact, it is my preferred way of shopping when it comes to both food items and household goods and services.  Last year on Small Business Saturday, for example, I took a pair of boots to the local cobbler to be re-heeled, and then walked to the dry cleaner to drop off my winter coat which was in need of a cleaning.  I value the services of these small neighborhood businesses so make a point of patronizing them whenever possible.  In today's throwaway culture and Internet shopping-obsessed world, these businesses need all the support they can get.  Of course, I am only too happy to oblige.

Yesterday, finding ourselves with a day devoid of obligations, and a daughter busy with friends, my husband and I hopped into the motor car and headed north across the Golden Gate bridge to Petaluma, a favorite little town full of small, one-of-a-kind businesses.  We could not think of a better place to be on Small Business Saturday.  Unfortunately, I had forgotten my camera at home but just to give you an idea, we saw plenty of these on our adventure through the town:

The shopkeepers of many small businesses in Petaluma were giving away these tote
bags to their patrons

Source

There were people everywhere enjoying the cooler weather outdoors between bouts of early Christmas shopping.  Many of the merchants provided complimentary nibbles and beverages which only encouraged patrons to linger a little longer than perhaps is usual while they perused the merchandise on offer.

Of course, I did my bit in support of Small Business Saturday and visited all the antiques shops in town.  I came away with a handful of vintage glass Christmas tree ornaments which will surely find their way onto our tree later next month.  I also found a delightful early-nineteenth century English creamware mug decorated with pleasing pink luster (or would that be lustre?) bands and a purple bat print scene of a shepherdess and two shepherds.  The mug stands three inches high and three and a half inches across.  I was thrilled to bits with the newest addition to my ceramics collection especially as it had been discounted by 15% in honor of today's shopping event.

So pleased to have taken home a little treasure in support of Small Business Saturday yesterday

Photo: Chronica Domus

My new old mug as photographed from the back

Photo: Chronica Domus

When we eventually made our way home during the early evening hours, we stopped off at our favorite local Italian eatery in search of a delicious and comforting dinner.  Once again, there we were supporting yet another local small business.

What an enjoyable day, and evening, Small Business Saturday turned out to be for us this year. And, although our dinner is long-gone, at least I get to keep my mug as a pleasant reminder that supporting small independent businesses yields unique items not easily found at the mall or in big box chains.

Did you get out and about yesterday in support of your favorite small businesses?

Memories of Cow Parsley, Or Would That Be Queen Anne's Lace?

Cow Parsley or Queen Anne's Lace, that is the question?

Photo: Chronica Domus

On a recent jaunt to the San Francisco Flower Market, I noticed one of the vendors was selling billowy bunches of what I thought to be Cow Parsley or, to use its botanical name, Anthriscus sylvestris.  Before eagerly snapping up two bunches and making my way home, I asked the vendor what the plant is called.  "Queen Anne's Lace" was the response.  I was momentarily taken aback as I could have sworn this was Cow Parsley.  Nevertheless, I was happy to be taking home my bunches, whatever they may be called.

Photo: Chronica Domus

It's funny but I had not thought about Cow Parseley for decades.  My memories of it were formed back when I was a young girl living in England. Our house bordered the Kentish countryside and during those carefree days of school summer holidays, I would often be found perched atop my bicycle, gently peddling down the windy country lanes that surrounded our house. One of the most pleasurable visions of those bicycle rides was of the masses of fluffy Cow Parsley.  It grew with abandon, much like a weed, and lined every lane for miles.  Those trailing ribbons of Cow Parsley were truly a sight to behold and one, I believe, as quintessentially British as strawberries and cream are during the month of June.

As I cut and arranged the Queen Anne's Lace in an old earthenware crock, I began to wonder if this was indeed Queen Anne's Lace, or not. Does Cow Parsley even grow in California?

Photo: Chronica Domus

A quick on-line search confirmed that I was not alone in my horticultural beffuddlement.  It appears that  Daucus carota, Queen Anne's Lace, is often confused with Cow Parsley.  Both, it turns out, are related to carrot, among other plants, which likely explains my dubiety.  I've also learned that Cow Parsley is a native plant of Europe, whereas Queen Anne's Lace grows easily to the point of naturalizing here in North America.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Who knew the simple act of purchasing a few bundles of a rather familiar-looking plant would lead me down the rabbit warren of nostalgia, seeking knowledge on a plant I've not thought about in an age?

Tell me, do you recall the last time you were transported to your youth and what it was that placed you there?

Relics Reimagined: A Black Basalt Pastille Burner

Photo: Chronica Domus

We are in the midst of daffodil season here in the garden, the most glorious time of the horticultural year.  At least I consider it so, for I regard the humble daffodil to be my favorite flower above all others, followed closely by summer's sweet pea.

Last evening, after a long day of blustery winds, I noticed that a clump of narcissus Albatross was in peril of being toppled over.

It was rather a challenge to photograph these daffodils as they whipped about in the wind

Photo: Chronica Domus

Curious Norton proved himself  to be a further challenge, albeit a pleasant one

Photo: Chronica Domus

Narcissus Albatross in full bloom or would that be in full flight?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Having endured losses to winds in years past, I thought it prudent to gather up the flowers already in bloom and enjoy those indoors.  There are plenty still remaining, in bud, to be savored in the weeks ahead as garden ornament.

Into the garden trug go a dozen blooming Albatross daffodils

Photo: Chronica Domus

Seeking a suitable container in which to display these dainty heirlooms, I looked no further than my mantelshelf where an early nineteenth century black basalt Wedgwood pastille burner takes pride of place.  Removing its lid, I placed a small circular metal flower frog within it before adding water.

My chosen flower container for the heirloom daffodils, an early nineteenth century Wedgwood black basalt pastille burner

Photo: Chronica Domus

Then came the flowers.

Photo: Chronica Domus

As I stepped back to admire my handy work, I was reminded why it wasn't always such a bright idea to repurpose certain objects as flower receptacles.  A slow dribble of water from three previously unnoticed tiny holes in the base of its bowl rendered this particular vessel wholly unsuitable as a vase. I suspect the trio of holes were intended to provide oxygen to the aromatic pastille while lit.  A further hole in the lid allowed a wisp of white smoke to escape and saturate the air with its perfume.

Ah well, I thought the basalt burner made for a very pretty little vase, if only for a brief moment.  I hope you think so too.

If you are interested in learning more about pastille burners, the air fresheners of yesteryear, I would encourage you to read the excellent post written by the author of The Regency Redingote, which can be found here.

Dining Table Inspiration from The Original Wedgwood Pattern Book

Last Saturday we had the great pleasure of entertaining good friends at home for drinks and dinner. We were six at table that evening and as spring was almost upon us, I chose to decorate the dining room with flowering spring blooms and branches laden with blossom. An early Friday morning jaunt to the San Francisco Flower Market yielded exactly what I had hoped to find.

Three plump bunches of blue hyacinths await arranging

Chronica Domus

I procured the blue hyacinths specifically to complement the dinner plates I intended on using the following evening.  These beautiful plates were acquired last year and this was to be their inaugural coming out party.   I know I've sworn many times to ignore the heady siren call of a pretty table object, and I do recognize that my escalating problem vice is something I'm not particularly proud of, but I ask you, how could I have possibly passed these up?  

A view of the rim decoration - notice how the delicate hand-painted detail is achieved through the meticulous application of two differing shades of blue enamel paint, and three of brown

Photo: Chronica Domus

When I first examined the plates I was delighted to find that each - there's a baker's dozen in all - was in excellent condition. This is not often the case with early pieces of creamware, their weight being more akin to a pastry shell than the heft one expects of a conventional dinner plate.  The bluebell-like decoration reminded me of my bluebell picking days as a young girl living in the Kent countryside. Perhaps that is why they called to me.

Having a curious mind and an eye for detail, I was keen to learn about the hand-painted pattern and the exact age of these plates.  My first clue led me to their underside where a 'WEDGWOOD' mark, alongside some random letters, is impressed into the clay.  

Fortunately, for fellow crazed fanatics of early Wedgwood tablewares, a rather wonderful on-line resource awaits discovery.  The Wedgwood Museum Trust has cataloged their early archive of ceramics, along with a host of other related items, for our viewing pleasure and edification.

My rudimentary search of the collections yielded similarly patterned plates, referred to as "Queen's ware, cream colored earthenware", but nothing that was an exact match to my own.  In a bid to learn more, I contacted the museum in hopes of enlightenment and was overjoyed when Ms. Lucy Lead, an archivist at the Wedgwood Museum in Barlaston, Staffordshire, responded to my inquiry.  

With a little sleuthing, Ms. Lead - so aptly named for per chosen profession - generously provided me with a liberal dose of delicious detail about my creamware dishes. Not only that, she kindly sent along the following photograph, taken directly from the original tableware pattern book of Josiah Wedgwood. Here it is:

A detailed image of Josiah Wedgwood's original tableware pattern book showing the hand-painted pattern of my dinner plates, Pattern 96, located at middle right

Photo: Courtesy of Ms. Lucy Lead

   ©Wedgwood Museum/ WWRD

I was elated by the opportunity to scrutinize the detail from Pattern Book Number One, the actual reference book that Josiah Wedgwood's early clientele used when selecting and placing their tableware orders. Each blank creamware item was then decorated by hand before being carefully packed and delivered to its new owner.  Ms. Lead also informed me that my plates were made sometime in the late-eighteenth to early-nineteenth century, and are described in the pattern book as "Hyacinth blue, leaves brown, and broad and fine lines brown". This was quite a revelation as I had wrongfully assumed the flowers to have been bluebells and not hyacinths.  

Aha! Proof indeed that the flower depicted on the creamware dishes is a hyacinth and not a bluebell as I had intially believed it to be

Photo: Chronica Domus

Ms. Lead also thought it might interest me to learn that the pattern was also reproduced in a green colorway, Pattern 97, which is also recorded in the above image.  The random letters visible on the underside of my plates, small impressed 'B' and 'P' marks, are potter's marks, and relate to the worker that actually made the plate. Ms. Lead went onto tell me that sadly, the information of exactly which marks belonged to which potter had long been lost.  

As you can imagine, I was all the more overjoyed to set my dining table with such handsome dishes, knowing far more about their history and design than I would have had I not reached out to Ms. Lead. Although our guests did remark on how very pretty the two arrangements of hyacinths were, I did not choose to over-burden them with the detail of how I was inspired by the beauty of Josiah Wedgwood's vision and his original pattern book when setting our communal table that evening. Instead, I reserve that little tale for readers of this blog. 

On the morning after our dinner party I was delighted to see the hyacinths, arranged in a pair of Regency wine rinsers unfurled, revealing their full beauty and intoxicating scent*

Photo: Chronica Domus 

Thank you once again Ms. Lucy Lead for satiating my curiosity and for your generous research efforts which yielded such fascinating information.  I am ever in your debt.

*For the comfort of one's guests, I do not recommend placing heavily-scented flowers on the dining table.  However, in this instance, I correctly calculated that the tightly closed bunches of hyacinths I purchased on Friday would not be fully open by the time we sat down to dinner on Saturday evening

Decorating Black Basalt Ceramics: A Revolutionary Little Machine

These early black basalt ceramics are decorated with an array of engine-turned designs

Photo: Chronica Domus

I had intended to write about this subject for quite some time and a comment made on my last post from loyal reader and fellow blogger GSL finally convinced me to get my skates on and actually follow through.  So here today, for your enjoyment and edification, is my laywoman's attempt at explaining how the delightfully incised decorations often seen on early black basalt ceramics have come to be.

As readers of this blog might have noticed, I have a bit of a problem crush obsession with black basalt ceramics.  I regularly find myself reaching for these utilitarian and handsome objects to use at our table, as flower receptacles, or even as a Christmas tree holder.  As GSL so astutely noticed when I posted on my sweet peas recently, the vessel I used to hold my blooms is decorated with a cross-hatch design.  He wondered how it had been made.

The geometric cross-hatching on this black basalt vessel sparked GSL's interest and his question on how such a design was achieved on early ceramics

Photo: Chronica Domus

It was the genius of Josiah Wedgwood in 1763 that introduced the world to the ornamental engine-turning lathe which was enthusiastically installed in his Staffordshire pottery that very year.  Mr. Wedgwood had first set eyes on the lathe at Matthew Boulton's Birmingham metal workshop and was immediately enthralled by the possibility of adapting it to decorate his ceramics. By rotating the leather-like surface of an earthenware article, the potter was able to embellish the surface with a series of exacting ribs and patterns with great precision. The results would bring Josiah Wedgwood fame among his extensive circle of wealthy clientele.

A frame from a video made by British Pathé illustrating how a design was cut into the body of one of Wedgwood's pots using the ornamental engine-turning lathe

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I adore the graphic engine-turned decoration on these neoclassically inspired Wedgwood tea wares with finials depicting Sybil the ancient Greek oracle

Photo: Chronica Domus

A detailed look at two sugar basins skillfully executed on the Wedgwood lathe

Photo: Chronica Domus

Interestingly, Josiah Wedgwood's shrewd business instinct led him to market black basalt tea wares to fashionable ladies who had adopted the curious custom of bleaching their hands with arsenic. As you can imagine, juxtaposing porcelain-like skin against the dark-bodied teapots and milk jugs served to highlight his patron's vanity to great effect.

A trio of early-nineteenth century black basalt milk jugs showcasing 

three distinct engine-turned decorations

Photo: Chronica Domus

A closer look at the intricate engine-turned pattern on a helmet-shaped milk jug circa 1820

Photo: Chronica Domus

Perhaps some of my own pieces of  black basalt were purchased from the Wedgwood & Byerley showrooms in St. James' Square, London
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It did not take long until Wedgwood's contemporaries followed his lead and acquired their own engine-turning lathes.  The firms of William Baddeley and Hackwood & Co. are two that adopted this form of decoration but neither could rival the quality of Wedgwood's designs.

A beloved pair of Hackwood & Co. slop bowls display a graphic zigzag design which is not as finely executed as the Wedgwood examples in my collection

Photo: Chronica Domus

During my research for this post, I came across an intriguing photograph of the nineteenth-century ornamental engine-turning lathe in situ at the basalt room of the Wedgwood pottery in Etruria.  The lathe has now been moved to the Wedgwood Museum in Barlaston, a place I've been fortunate enough to have visited on my travels many years ago.

Source

What excites me most about the image is the object in the potter's hand.   It appears to be a very similar example of my basalt vase which is shown in the following photograph:

A favored piece in my collection is this small vase which highlights the supreme skill of the potter who adorned it with a band of engine-turned acanthus leaves and geometric fluting

Photo: Chronica Domus

Ornamental engine-turning was by no means Wedgwood's only method of decorating his world-famous ceramics, but it is a particular favorite of mine as the designs still appear fresh and exciting, if not slightly contemporary, two-hundred years on from their manufacture.

I hope you have enjoyed learning about the process of how these varied patterns found their way onto such handsome ceramics.  And, of course, my thanks to GSL for his intriguing inquiry which is what ultimately led me to finally write this post.  I do hope I've managed to unravel the mystery of the cross-hatching for you.

For those of my readers that might be interested in learning more about Josiah Wedgwood and his world-renowned company, and see the very same ornamental engine-turning lathe discussed in this post in action, I would gently encourage you to view this two-part film found here, presented by Associated British Pathé.