After the black had dried, the pot was returned to the artist’s hands to be retouched with colour. In the sixth century, in the black-figured style, many colours were used, as violet-red and white. At the time of Douris, the red figured vases displayed very few complementary colours. Great simplicity characterized the taste of the times. A few red lines sufficed to indicate fillets tied in the hair, belts holding swords, the reins of horses, etc. Red was likewise used to trace inscriptions or the signature of the artist ([Fig. 8]). Others preferred to inscribe it in black on the foot of handle ([Fig. 15]). Others again incised it with a style in the thick colour. White only returns again to favour after the Persian wars. About the time of Douris, in the workshop of one of his rivals—Brygos—who may have been a little younger, attempts were made to heighten the effect of the red figures by a little gilding cautiously placed on the outlines of the armour, helmets and vases for libations. It is a return to the rich polychromy, which later continues to develop, and ends in those pretty little gilt vases devoted to scenes of child life, beloved by Attic customers towards the end of the fifth century. As far as we know, Douris does not seem to have taken part in the manufacture of the beautiful drinking cups with a white background and fresco tones of brown, red and violet, with which the workshops of Euphronios and his successors were busy ([Fig. 7]). He adheres to the classical method of figures left in the red clay, and only retouched by a few wine-coloured lines. It may be said that he is not a colourist. To his eyes, as to those of Ingres, drawing is the very foundation of the art.
When the drawings were finished, his chief task was done; but his position as manufacturer did not permit him to remain indifferent to the rest. He had to carry his painted pottery to the drying place, and, after the required time, to have it baked. This is a very delicate part of the manufacture of vases, on which its success greatly depends. Ancient ovens were probably very imperfect. There are many examples of oxidization by contact with the flame, which improperly reddens the side of a vase or turns half a figure orange. The supports on which vases were placed, while drying, sometimes left round marks. In one known instance, in consequence of two freshly painted vases touching one another, the hoofs of a horse have become impressed upon the face of a youth.
Defects in the material were more liable then than now to expose the ceramist to breakage and various accidents, which at all times have been the despair of the manufacturer, and which an Homeric singer already ascribed to special demons, “Syntrips, Smaragos, Asbetos, Sabaktes, Omodamos, gods fatal to the furnace.” We have already described a kiln adorned with a head of Silenus, a prophylactic fetish, destined to cast out evil influences ([Fig. 4]).
At last the pottery is taken out of the oven. The master can contemplate his work, test the delicacy of its sides, examine the fusion of the colours, study the change of tone in the baking. Other workmen come to immerse the vases in a prepared bath, which will glaze the entire visible surface, brighten the red of the clay, the background and all the black lines, but will leave the retouching dull. We are quite ignorant of the ingredients of the bath which so thoroughly accomplished all this and gave the pottery its splendour. We only know that a red precipitate was formed, traces of which are frequently visible under the foot and upon the clay which had remained uncovered. Among vases of the decline, this red overruns the entire drawing and gives an unpleasant appearance to the whole; in this case, as with the black, either the recipe of the glaze had been lost, or else the work was badly executed. Possibly a dry rubbing with leather or some other substance added finish to the glaze.
We must not even yet regard the potter’s work as finished. He had to superintend the sale, attract customers, confer with shipowners in regard to the export. Nor was advertising unknown to the ancients. It adopted many devices. Some potters contrived to paint on the vase subjects or inscriptions alluding to the products therein. There are scenes of wine and oil sales, with sentences, praising the merchandise or the honesty of the merchant. There are incentives to the pleasure of drinking, friendly greetings and wishes of good health to him who will use the kylix or kantharos. Even the details of the potter’s trade have served as matter for representation, to recall to the customer the fame of Attic workshops. The prettiest allegory is the one we mentioned above, where we saw Athene accompanied by two little Victories entering a workshop of painters and placing crowns on the heads of the workmen ([Fig. 2]).
Fig. 11. THE ADVENTURES OF THESEUS.
By Douris. British Museum.
But the means most frequently adopted to attract buyers was to inscribe on the body of a vase the name of some young man of distinguished family in Athens, known either for his beauty or his fortune, and in this way to gain the good-will of a rich customer, who would bring the patronage of all his family and friends. We have a large number of such inscriptions wherein the manufacturer invokes “the handsome Leagros,” “the handsome Glaukon,” or “the handsome Megakles,” etc., and we recognize in these names well-known members of the Athenian aristocracy (Figs. [5], [7], [8]).
It will be remembered that the Italian potters of the sixteenth century put into circulation coppe amatorie, bearing portraits of beautiful women, surrounded by inscriptions celebrating Lucrezia diva or “the fair Camilla.” This is a similar idea.