The morning after the night before

This morning Paul sent me some photos of the results of the firing. As I said in the previous post, this process can be seen as an experiment with both Nacho and Paul getting to know their materials.

The morning after 5

This is true, and the results here are obviously part of that process. Describing it in this way though, removes the human element and turns them into production scientists dispassionately gathering data.

The morning after 4

This is obviously not the case. As I also said in the previous post, both Nacho and Paul devoted a lot of time, energy and skill to produce this cohort of pots for firing. They both put a lot of themselves into the process. I cannot help but share their disappointment in the results.

Disappointing or not, the results do seem to confirm that the above described methods work for the Athol Rd clay. The figurine made from this same material and with a bone temper seems to have survived. An alternate firing arrangement, or tempering process is perhaps needed for the Frodsham clay.

I have had my fair share of setbacks on the flintknapping front, and on a regular basis. It feels however, as though the investment I make is less in terms of time and complexity of process. Probably the worst experience I have had is destroying a number of good flint nodules with no tangible output or outcome. This somehow seems less sad than waiting for the fire to die down and after many weeks of work, finding out that the pots have not withstood the process. I believe that inevitably this same process must have occurred in the past. An archaeology of disappointment. I suppose I too have my box in the back yard for the points I produce that do not make the grade. I wonder if someone were to excavate my backyard, or Nacho’s fire pit, would they recognise these things for what they were: data rich, but ultimately sad, past events?

 

 

 

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Bronze Age pot firing and social!

Last night I spent the evening with Nacho and Paul, families and friends, taking part in their pot firing ceremony. It was a lovely evening and again I learned a lot about the ceramic process. Below is a picture of Paul and Nacho, the proud parents! These pots have been air drying for two weeks with the aim of reducing the moisture content before firing. This concern with the amount of moisture is a theme that ran through most of the activities throughout the evening.

After getting the fire going the pots were laid out around the fire, mouth facing the fire. This is because the base can contain a lot of moisture and a rapid change in temperature can lead to the water cracking the base. This placement is to acclimatise the pots to the heat gently. The sawdust is to stop damp from the ground leaching into the pots, and it also allows a precise placement of the pot.

Once in place the pots are turned regularly in order to make sure drying is even.

nacho turning and placing

At the critical stage (when Nacho says so!) the pots are reversed and the now warm pots can have their bases exposed to the heat more directly.

warming the bases

As the evening progressed the pots were frequently rotated and moved closer to the fire. At the same time the ashes were dragged outwards from the fire and moved closer to the pots. These were all strategies to gradually increase the temperature and ensure that all aspects of the pot are exposed to the heat. The underlying fear was ‘thermal shock’, the pot experiencing a sharp increase in temperature and then cracking. Gradually the pots were moved into the hot ashes. Second photograph bottom right you can see my ‘Venus’ figurine nestled in its bed of ashes.

And then we placed wood atop the pots and ashes. This part caused both Nacho and Paul a lot of stress because the fire caught quite quickly and the temperature seemed to increase rapidly. They were fearing that the pots would ‘pop’, which would have been bad. All the actions were aimed at facilitating a smooth evaporation of the water within the pots.

Pots plus more wood

We started at 6pm and I left at 11pm with Paul and Nacho still sitting around the fire, monitoring. There were nine pots and my figurine and they had both invested a lot of time, effort and skill in these nine urns and beakers. Consequently, they paid due care and concern to try and ensure that this stage of the process progressed smoothly. Nacho said how prehistoric ceramicists would have known their materials intimately and therefore would have been able to act more confidently and directly. This experiment was however the process whereby these two were getting to know their materials. I had an email this evening to say that they had mixed results: the red marl from Frodsham didn’t cope well and the pots cracked; the clay from Athol Rd on the other hand came out well. Apparently the ‘Venus’ looks great. Photos soon then!

On quartering a glass bottle using a stone (again)

I had an enjoyable knapping session with Nick Overton this week and it has been a while since both of us sat down together. I want to organise a Kimberley Point workshop, and so my theme for the evening was to consciously work through the production process. My aim was to grasp what is practical to work through in a three hours session with a potentially new knapper. I started with a green glass bottle base and side panel from the usual source. The first step was to separate the side panel from the base.

To do so I used a length of no.8 wire to attack the inner junction of the basal section and the side of the bottle. It worked pretty well in that it took out three big sections weakening the overall integrity of the bottle. So far so good. There is absolutely an auditory component to this process and that is something I am going to explore in more detail. After the third removal the increasing thickness of the remaining glass meant that the base snapped off, taking with it a section of the side panel. The break followed a path of least resistance (and thickness) and left me with a base and curved side panel.

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I then flipped the side panel over with the dorsal (convex) surface uppermost in order to produce my blank. I used the hard hammer to produce a line of weakness and this again had aural and visual clues as to how well it was working. When I had the required line I flipped it over to expose the inner (concave) surface and struck the inside of the same line once. As you can see, it worked pretty well.

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On the close up below it is possible to see the hard hammer impact marks. The no.8 wire tool used to remove the base is in the background.

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I then proceeded to do the same thing on the other side, but with less success as it split into four pieces.

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This process is intriguing and I need more practice to get consistent results. Consequently I will probably discuss this process, but start other people off with preforms.

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Above is the resulting point from the lower section of the side panel, and below is the aboriginal example from the Manchester Museum.

MM twister

The main difference is flatness. Mine is lens shaped whilst the museum example is plano-convex, and a little more refined. The difference is subtle and qualitative, but I think boils down to the length of the removals and resultant edge angle. I am able to systematically produce points and the main areas for my own improvement are: getting longer removals; systematic hard hammer quartering. In relation to the workshop idea, I think if we use preforms then I can probably lead someone through the process in three hours.

Reports of my one point per day have been greatly exaggerated

My plan of making one point per day has not gone well, however, I have had some tangential and enjoyable making activities going on. A friend, Nacho, who is a potter asked me about prehistoric urns and beakers, a subject I know little about. He is interested in following the archaeologically understood methods in order to produce his urns, from gathering the clay locally, through to a social open firing event. We have spent a couple of days together now, sharing ideas and I have learnt a lot about ceramic technology in that time. As I am not an urn or beaker person (currently!) I wanted to make a ‘Venus’ figurine, an example of the first known ceramic technology. My muse was a black figurine from a site called Dolni Vestonice in the Czech Republic. The original was made from yellow clay and burnt mammoth bone around 25,000 years ago. What follows is a not so short photo essay.

The ‘clay mine’, a soil pipe trench on Athol Road in Whalley Range, Manchester. The clay is really plastic and the photograph was taken after inclusions had been removed.

Nacho making a small pit fire to burn the bone. Not a mammoth bone but taken off the dog, source unknown.

Using a hammer-stone to crush the bone and make a horrible smelling bone powder.

Estimating the clay to bone ratio, and Nacho ‘wedging’ the two together. The aim is to get an even dispersal and consistency.

The clay and bone mixed together, and my first attempt at a ‘Venus’ of Dolni Vestonice.

 

venus and ruler

The figurine has to now slowly dry before it will be fired in the open pit in a couple of weeks. I have plenty of clay left and can in theory have a bit more of a play. I am both pleased with my first attempt and surprised at how crude it is. Nacho had a little go whilst I was at his house and it was clear he had much better control over the material even though he was only demonstrating. I think as well as his skill, he also had the materials at a wetter consistency than I did this evening. I suspect the clay has dried out a little over the two days I have had it sitting here in its unsealed plastic bag. I am going to ask Nacho to make one as well as I think he may be able to do justice to the original.

Another one headed for the backyard

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It took me a long time to get this wrong. The glass was tough and it wore out one complete nail on my pressure flaker. However the problem was me and my angle management. It is narrow because I persisted but rather than getting flatter deeper flakes they became steeper. I don’t like it and it is headed for the box in the back yard. I am not sure what I have learned from this one, although it is the second on the trot where my thinning has been inadequate. Perhaps I have learned that I need to improve my flat invasive flaking.

Neolithic leaf shaped arrowhead

Whilst away on holiday I paid a visit to the Whitby Museum, well worth it if you should get the chance.

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Inside there is lots of treasure, and this is a photograph of a lovely Neolithic leaf shaped arrowhead found locally.

Neolithic leaf point

This, by contrast, is my point from today (and yesterday) made from a really thick piece of glass given to me by a friend, Stephen Poole.

Neo 2

It started out as an exercise in exploring the differing functions of hard and soft hammer in the process of reduction. In this respect it was successful as I now have some nice flakes for reference purposes.

However, the striking difference between the flakes produced by the different methods was also useful for me in deepening my understanding. Thinning a nodule to produce a handaxe is a process that I have observed (and filmed) a number of times. Karl Lee always emphasises the import of understanding angles. The stark contrast between these flakes is allowing something to fall into place for me (conceptually, not yet practically!) The hard hammer is perhaps more about producing angles to work with. The soft hammer more about exploiting those angles to thin the piece effectively.

I don’t like this arrowhead. It is too thick and lumpy and will probably go into the box in my back yard where my not quite resolved experiments end up. However, I have made it my point for today (made yesterday, finished today) which keeps the process, and therefore learning opportunities, going. What is intriguing for me is how the actual flakes themselves are helping me understand  the process differently. Learning from the materials seems to encourage me to think about something I already know about in a different way. This thinking through objects is obviously something we do a lot within archaeology. It will be interesting to pick apart how the objects have added to my understanding in a way that observation and explanation have not. Perhaps the theme for another post.

And then there were four

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I woke up early this morning with the aim of finishing the last preform, and it has turned out really well.

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Certainly the most Kimberley Point like of the bunch. It took the best part of an hour and wasn’t without its issues. An alternative title for this post might have been ‘how much platform do you need?’ This is because towards the end it is easy to run out of width. When this occurs it is necessary to become judicious with the platforms produced. It is simply a case of changing the edge angle enough to remove a flake. I seem to have got into this with this one and it has resulted in a more refined point that has serrated more easily.

This idea of producing one point per day is a really useful strategy for finding time to produce stuff. Doing so first thing in the morning is also a great way to start the day. Now breakfast.