Woodfired Great Egret Vase ***Jessica's Pick of the Kiln
This highly detailed pictorial vase was thrown with white stoneware and dipped in a thin white slip. The drips of slip enliven the background surface for the drawing and fingerprints at the base show evidence of process. The alterations on this form were more subtle than many of the other pieces in this collection. By laterally compressing the thrown form, two broader decorating surfaces were created, but no hard edges break up the flow of the drawing. This vase was fired at the very top of the kiln with the egret facing away from the firebox. In this position, very little actual ash solids impinged on the surface, but the volatile components of the wood passed around the piece throughout the firing, bringing out rich toasty hues and a soft sheen. Jessica pulled out all the stops on the imagery for this one (after all, the subject reminds her of her favorite place, Jekyll Island). Layers of colored underglazes were applied by brush, trailing needle, and underglaze pencil. Highlights of burnt umber stain enhanced the background cattails. The position in the kiln kept all the details perfectly crisp but still created an unmistakably wood-fired surface.
Here is what Jessica wrote on social media about this piece that is so special to her:
Great Egret in the Cattails
This vase represents a place that is truly special to me, a wild little island off the coast of Georgia named Jekyll Island. We try to go there as often as we can, just to walk the beaches collecting whelks and moonsnails, deserted except for shore birds calling to one another and fishing in the murky surf. We seine for shrimp and crabs and we fish and harvest oysters. We ride our bikes along the dune-lined paths, dodging the bending sea grass and palmettos and Spanish Moss dripping from the Live Oaks. We paddleboard and kayak through the marshes and on the open ocean water, no other humans in sight, watching the flecks of white as we stir up the Egrets and Herons and Ibis. And, it's wonderful. There's a calm to just being in a place that's still so beautifully untouched, that allows you to reset and to slow down and just exist.
This year when we went, it was different. When I struggled with my sight, I couldn't ride our bikes along the beach at low tide or watch the sunrise as we walked with our hot coffee warming our hands in the chill of the morning. I couldn’t watch the shorebirds diving for their evening meals or climb the stairs of the boardwalks to look out over the dunes. In the summer, when I began to lose my coordination and sensation in my arms and legs, I couldn't walk or bike or paddle anymore. I couldn't comb the beaches for seashells cast ashore by the tide or look for nesting sea turtles at night. I couldn’t stand to fish and I didn’t have the strength to pull my end of the seine. I was afraid that I was losing this place forever to what was happening to my body.
But, I haven’t. I could still feel the breeze on my skin and taste the salt water on the air. I could feel the sun warming me and I could sit still and listen to the sounds of the sea and the chattering of the gulls fighting over a fish.
It changes for me depending on where I am with my health, but it's still my sanctuary, my favorite place. And, this vase is an ode to my love of it, in whatever way I can still experience it.
This highly detailed pictorial vase was thrown with white stoneware and dipped in a thin white slip. The drips of slip enliven the background surface for the drawing and fingerprints at the base show evidence of process. The alterations on this form were more subtle than many of the other pieces in this collection. By laterally compressing the thrown form, two broader decorating surfaces were created, but no hard edges break up the flow of the drawing. This vase was fired at the very top of the kiln with the egret facing away from the firebox. In this position, very little actual ash solids impinged on the surface, but the volatile components of the wood passed around the piece throughout the firing, bringing out rich toasty hues and a soft sheen. Jessica pulled out all the stops on the imagery for this one (after all, the subject reminds her of her favorite place, Jekyll Island). Layers of colored underglazes were applied by brush, trailing needle, and underglaze pencil. Highlights of burnt umber stain enhanced the background cattails. The position in the kiln kept all the details perfectly crisp but still created an unmistakably wood-fired surface.
Here is what Jessica wrote on social media about this piece that is so special to her:
Great Egret in the Cattails
This vase represents a place that is truly special to me, a wild little island off the coast of Georgia named Jekyll Island. We try to go there as often as we can, just to walk the beaches collecting whelks and moonsnails, deserted except for shore birds calling to one another and fishing in the murky surf. We seine for shrimp and crabs and we fish and harvest oysters. We ride our bikes along the dune-lined paths, dodging the bending sea grass and palmettos and Spanish Moss dripping from the Live Oaks. We paddleboard and kayak through the marshes and on the open ocean water, no other humans in sight, watching the flecks of white as we stir up the Egrets and Herons and Ibis. And, it's wonderful. There's a calm to just being in a place that's still so beautifully untouched, that allows you to reset and to slow down and just exist.
This year when we went, it was different. When I struggled with my sight, I couldn't ride our bikes along the beach at low tide or watch the sunrise as we walked with our hot coffee warming our hands in the chill of the morning. I couldn’t watch the shorebirds diving for their evening meals or climb the stairs of the boardwalks to look out over the dunes. In the summer, when I began to lose my coordination and sensation in my arms and legs, I couldn't walk or bike or paddle anymore. I couldn't comb the beaches for seashells cast ashore by the tide or look for nesting sea turtles at night. I couldn’t stand to fish and I didn’t have the strength to pull my end of the seine. I was afraid that I was losing this place forever to what was happening to my body.
But, I haven’t. I could still feel the breeze on my skin and taste the salt water on the air. I could feel the sun warming me and I could sit still and listen to the sounds of the sea and the chattering of the gulls fighting over a fish.
It changes for me depending on where I am with my health, but it's still my sanctuary, my favorite place. And, this vase is an ode to my love of it, in whatever way I can still experience it.
This highly detailed pictorial vase was thrown with white stoneware and dipped in a thin white slip. The drips of slip enliven the background surface for the drawing and fingerprints at the base show evidence of process. The alterations on this form were more subtle than many of the other pieces in this collection. By laterally compressing the thrown form, two broader decorating surfaces were created, but no hard edges break up the flow of the drawing. This vase was fired at the very top of the kiln with the egret facing away from the firebox. In this position, very little actual ash solids impinged on the surface, but the volatile components of the wood passed around the piece throughout the firing, bringing out rich toasty hues and a soft sheen. Jessica pulled out all the stops on the imagery for this one (after all, the subject reminds her of her favorite place, Jekyll Island). Layers of colored underglazes were applied by brush, trailing needle, and underglaze pencil. Highlights of burnt umber stain enhanced the background cattails. The position in the kiln kept all the details perfectly crisp but still created an unmistakably wood-fired surface.
Here is what Jessica wrote on social media about this piece that is so special to her:
Great Egret in the Cattails
This vase represents a place that is truly special to me, a wild little island off the coast of Georgia named Jekyll Island. We try to go there as often as we can, just to walk the beaches collecting whelks and moonsnails, deserted except for shore birds calling to one another and fishing in the murky surf. We seine for shrimp and crabs and we fish and harvest oysters. We ride our bikes along the dune-lined paths, dodging the bending sea grass and palmettos and Spanish Moss dripping from the Live Oaks. We paddleboard and kayak through the marshes and on the open ocean water, no other humans in sight, watching the flecks of white as we stir up the Egrets and Herons and Ibis. And, it's wonderful. There's a calm to just being in a place that's still so beautifully untouched, that allows you to reset and to slow down and just exist.
This year when we went, it was different. When I struggled with my sight, I couldn't ride our bikes along the beach at low tide or watch the sunrise as we walked with our hot coffee warming our hands in the chill of the morning. I couldn’t watch the shorebirds diving for their evening meals or climb the stairs of the boardwalks to look out over the dunes. In the summer, when I began to lose my coordination and sensation in my arms and legs, I couldn't walk or bike or paddle anymore. I couldn't comb the beaches for seashells cast ashore by the tide or look for nesting sea turtles at night. I couldn’t stand to fish and I didn’t have the strength to pull my end of the seine. I was afraid that I was losing this place forever to what was happening to my body.
But, I haven’t. I could still feel the breeze on my skin and taste the salt water on the air. I could feel the sun warming me and I could sit still and listen to the sounds of the sea and the chattering of the gulls fighting over a fish.
It changes for me depending on where I am with my health, but it's still my sanctuary, my favorite place. And, this vase is an ode to my love of it, in whatever way I can still experience it.
