Faience – An Ancient Craft

Lotiform Cup, Third Intermediate Period, Dynasty 22, ca. 945–715 BCIn Ancient Egypt, the colour blue symbolised the Nile, the waters of heaven and the home of the gods; green evoked the ideas of regeneration, rebirth and, more literally, represented vegetation.

The two colours were utilised in jewellery, in the form of turquoise and lapis lazuli, stones rare and precious in the ancient world. They were also expensive to come by. From about 3500 BC, a material called faience – perhaps expressly invented for the purpose – became a less costly substitute. The Egyptians used faience to create amulets, beads, rings, scarabs, shabti, small dishes and other decorative objects.

A necklace composed from various faience beads and amulets, late 2nd and 1st Millennium BCFaience is a non-clay ceramic with a glossy, vitrified surface. Made from fine-ground quartz or sand mixed with additives, it is glazed using various methods, and finally fired. Initially, copper was added to achieve a turquoise colour, and manganese for black. Around 1500 BC – at the beginning of glass production – additional colours were created using cobalt for blue, manganese for purple, and yellow from lead antimonate. It was not an easy substance to work with, softening during construction, and so moulds were often used. Beads, for instance, were made as solid forms, holes being drilled after firing.

The unique look of faience, the limited colour palette imposed by the technology of the time, and not least the delicate intricacy of the designs, are what give Ancient Egyptian jewellery its distinctive appearance. Today faience jewellery is precious in its own right.

Detail of a necklace composed from various faience beads and amulets, late 2nd and 1st Millennium BC

Feathercraft

Today I was a plumassier! I put down my pencil and Wacom pen, picked up a needle and thread, and finally sewed together the feather headdress I’ve been planning to make for years.

I was originally inspired by a headdress (rather gaudy, in hindsight) I saw in a boutique window many years ago, but it was only when I came across this sequin trim in a $5 grab-bag of fabric scraps and sundry beaded goodies that I finally laid my plans.

Taking advantage of the Spring Racing Carnival (when all kinds of millinery accessories are readily available in haberdashers) a couple of years ago, I stocked up on several bunches of feathers, a strip of sinnamay, and some mauve satin ribbon.

It’s my birthday this week, and since I am going to the Spiegeltent for a burlesque circus show on Saturday night, I decided I wanted something fun to wear – a deadline is always motivating! So I spent a good part of the day stitching feathers to the back of the sinnamay (stabbing myself in the fingers several times), then the sequin trim to the front. This was tricky, as the width of the sinnamay varied. Lastly, I stitched the ribbon to the reverse side of the band. I’m not a talented seamstress by any stretch of the imagination, but sequins hide all manner of sins!

Check out a few more pictures of the process on my Facebook page.

White Base

I’m a little worried about my little bearded man. His skin is rather pitted. I blame it on the dodgy batch of pulp Sapphire and I made a few episodes ago.

Both papîer maché masks have had two layers of gesso applied already, but I think they need a few more before I get the face paint out.

Gesso is a viscous white paint made from a binder mixed with chalk, gypsum or pigment, or a combination of these. It’s used as a primer on canvas, wood panels and sculpture. Modern gesso is made from an acrylic base, but traditionally it was made from an animal glue binder (usually rabbit-skin glue – which stinks to high heaven when you cook it up!), chalk, and white pigment.

Everyone’s heard the joke about women who plaster on their make-up base with a trowel – in the case of my pockmarked masks, I think it would really help! 

Three Days Late

The Incident with the Uneven PavingI had an epiphany this morning. It happened whilst I was walking past the fridge and into the bathroom. In passing, I glanced at the top of the fridge where my papier maché masks have been reposing (tip: it is really warm there and a good drying area).

For the twentieth time I idly wondered where on earth I had stowed the remainder of the gesso after I had the Incident with the Uneven Paving (which occurred approximately at 11:40am, on the 7th of September, 2010). As I prepared to blow-dry my hair suddenly I saw my eyes brighten in my reflection. Of course! Under the kitchen sink!

I immediately put down my styling tools and rushed to investigate. Removing a plastic tub and assorted cleaning products, I discovered the gesso nestled there in the basket filled with furniture polish (never used), disposable plastic gloves (for when I chop chillies and other disagreeable culinary tasks) and forgotten mosquito coils (oops, abject apologies to my New Year’s Eve al fresco dinner guests), amongst other sundry items.

Hooray, at last I can complete the next step before painting my masks!

January 6th was actually Epiphany, but better late than never.

A Portuguese Passion

Classic blue and white tiles plaster Capala das Almas, a church on the Rua Santa Catarina in Porto, PortugalThe Portuguese love tiles. Their country is slathered in them. Fortunately, I happened to visit two of the cities that have the best on-the-street samples: Lisbon, and Porto. The latter particularly seems to be coated in blue and white tiles. Both cities’ churches and public buildings are adorned with massive swathes of tile.

It was the Moors, having picked it up from the Persians, who introduced the art in the 16th century. These were mainly floral and geometric based designs, as figurative designs are not an option for Muslim artists for religious reasons. After the Italian invention of majolica, in which colours are painted directly into wet clay over a layer of white enamel, the Portuguese went wild.

One reason for the proliferation of tiles in Lisbon was after the 1755 earthquake that destroyed much of the city, tiles were a cheap and practical solution for decoration as the citizens rebuilt. The Art Nouveau and Art Deco movements also inspired artists to create fantastic facades and interiors of shops, restaurants and residential buildings.

Azulejos continue to coat contemporary life.

Take a look at my gallery of this Portuguese Passion for some close-up examples of tiles, taken on the street, in 18th century palaces and in the Museu Nacional do Azulejo. (Credits provided where known.)

A magnificent fountain in Sintra, Portugal