To watch a potter thumping his wet clay—Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
The boy who makes his mud pie, baking it in the sun, and the Indian who, ages ago, coiled clay in a basket which he burned away, are but two widely separated links in a continuous chain; for men of all time have found a fascination in the wet clay that is so easily moulded and fashioned into all manner of things of beauty and of use. And, beside the joy of exercising the creative faculty, there has also been the spur of a common need to inspire men of different races, independently of each other, to develop the primitive household arts, like pottery and rug making, by the use of methods no less remarkable for their similarity than for their cleverness. The impressions that the primitive man received from his natural surroundings were easily expressed in the plastic mud, and it was probably not long before he discovered that fire made them permanent and practically indestructible. Improvement was bound to come in due time. By washing the grosser impurities from the clay mud through a process in which the heavier particles settled, leaving the silt or finer clay to be poured off, some artist of a very early time found a material that became one of his most valuable helps in adding to the furnishings of his tribal household. First it was simply burned clay; but in due time enamel or glazed work found its use in tiles for building purposes, in grain jars, in wine jugs, in many kinds of table ware; for the uses of ancient terra cotta and porcelain were numerous.
Girls at Work on Pottery
[Plate XI]
The primitive arts, however, were not confined to objects of necessary use. We find, buried with the ruins of ancient cities, many evidences of the potter's craft, and among them articles for decorating the home, for personal adornment, and for religious use, like the rings and scarabs of Egypt. And in modern decorative art, as applied in the household, the one final touch which gives that indescribable charm, which it is the aim of all art to give, is perhaps to be found in a few—a very few—choice bits of pottery.
All of this use of clay, from the rude art of prehistoric times to the finest product of modern skill, is based on a plain scientific fact, viz., that a small quantity of water in the clay, not removable by any ordinary means of drying, can be driven out by intense heat so as to cause a permanent change in the character of the clay. This water is called the water of combination. If the clay is not heated more than enough to dry it, a later mixing with water restores it to its former plastic state; but clay once burned has lost its water of combination and never can return to its original condition.
Most beginners in clay modelling will expect, perhaps in the early stages of their work, to be made acquainted with the potter's wheel; for who has not heard of this interesting device? It is of interest chiefly because of its practical utility in the manufacture of pottery; and yet no one can forget the potter's song with which Longfellow begins his beautiful poem Keramos, making it a text for a sermon on the philosophy of life: