I love making things that are decorative as well as useful - I also have a rather perverse sense of humour - so when our old butterdish got broken I thought it might be fun to make something a bit quirky for housing the lowly butter.

It’s amazing how fastidious and finicky you can get about something as simple as a butterdish when you want to make your own. Our old dish took a standard-size pack of butter and was more of a flat plate with a slight recess covered with a rectangular lid. Nothing unusual there. Annoyingly, the butter we prefer comes in a giant-size pack so had to be cut in two to fit the old dish. Okay, point one: need to make a larger butterdish. We also found that as the butter diminished you found yourself chasing it across the dish, invariably pushing it off altogether unless you restrained it with your fingers. Hmm, point two: make a deep-sided dish with a flat lid. A flat lid needs a handle. Aahh, point three: make a funky handle!

The start of the project was fairly straightforward. It’s called slab work and quite simply, clay is rolled out as you would pastry, with ‘slabs’ cut out to make the required sides, top and bottom. Alright, it’s slightly more complex than that: the clay must be properly ‘wedged’ - air bubbles caught in the clay can bloat and explode during the firing process, sending ceramic shrapnel everywhere and potentially ruining everything in the kiln, so these need to be removed by slapping, thumping and generally pummelling the clay into submission. The clay is rolled out onto material to prevent it from sticking to the work surface (akin to flour for pastry) and an even thickness is achieved by using the roller on top of equal sized batons placed either side of the clay. So far, so good? It is important to accurately measure the slabs and to know how the piece is to be constructed - are the sides of the dish to sit on the base or do they go around the outside? It is also imperative that the shrinkage percentage is taken into consideration - god forbid the butterdish should be too small after all that hard work!

Slabs are ‘glued’ together using a slip, which is clay mixed with water to obtain a thick gloopy (technical term?!) consistency. I constructed my dish with the slabs around the base, with the edges just touching. This gave the piece a slightly retro feel but was a bit risky as it was only the generous amount of slip that held the sides together. Once I was sure the dish would not fall apart as it dried I started thinking of the lid and handle.

To demonstrate one of the simplest techniques of ceramic construction I make coil animals. It’s amazing how much character you can create with very little detail and I often find that “less is more”. I know it’s a bit of a cliché but I just had to make a cow handle for the lid. However, I didn’t want a ‘Buttercup’ cow, no, I wanted a ‘Mae West’ cow - a cow with attitude. Strangely, I got the inspiration for her posture from watching a well-known bank advert on the television.

Personally speaking, the conception and construction are the technical parts; often a study in concentration to ensure the thing doesn’t fall apart. The decoration is the fun part - the time when you can put life into your creation. I decided on Cooper Black for the words as it seemed appropriately ’splodgy’, and I traced these onto each side of the dish. I was careful not to press too hard as the clay had not been fired at this stage (called greenware) and could collapse and break quite easily. The words and splodges were painted using a black underglaze and I mixed red and white underglaze to get the compulsory splash of pink for her undercarriage! I could have added further splodges to the dish but felt this was unnecessary, as I wanted the cow to be the centre of attention.

And there she sits - all MOOdy, but all MINE!

I recall my pottery teacher once telling me that he occasionally regretted being so successful at making his own tableware. He produced a range of about a dozen different items which he covered in his own unique glaze - a beautiful deep blue and rich green - all of which I thought absolutely stunning. But he pointed out that he had to throw these items in batches, perhaps 60 a day, each the same as the last - which, of course, was hugely tedious. Perhaps this ‘revelation’ influenced me more than I realised as I veer away from mass producing anything and all my pottery is hand-built not thrown, which in my opinion, makes them a little more quirky and individual. I also find there is so much inspiration to be had with so many different ideas and experiments to attempt that I couldn’t limit myself to just one method of production.

This varied approach may very well explain how the MOOdy Cow was created. More on that soon…

So what’s the magic formula?

There are many different types of clay body, each with its own distinctive property. I use a prepared white earthenware, which is a general all-rounder suitable for a number of different techniques and uses. I’ve met a potter that uses a clay deposit from his own garden to produce a beautiful yellow-ochre clay body suitable for throwing which makes his work highly individual. Don’t worry, my courses don’t involve digging up the garden - I wouldn’t know where to start to find out its exact chemical composition nor what other minerals to add to make it more elastic, pliable, slow drying etc. Fortunately, others have perfected this complicated procedure over the years, so I know that the white earthenware clay body I use will be reliable time and time again.

But it’s not just the design and construction that is exciting, there’s the final decoration to enjoy too - THE GLAZE. If you were so inclined you could create your own, but needless to say there is a vast array of prepared glazes on offer, either powdered or ready to use: underglazes, overglazes, on-glazes, stains - and not just plain colours, but glazes containing crystals or speckles that “burst” or “melt” into fantastic shapes, giving a unique finish every time you use it. I’m like a kid in a sweetie shop when it comes to glazes - often overwhelmed by the choice, but greedy for more!

These blogs are intended to describe my enthusiasm for pottery without seeming too precious about it. I certainly don’t profess to know everything as I’m experimenting and learning new things all the time. If you want to find out more, watch this space. If you want to find out for yourself, come and join a course.

The piggery had 3 stalls, one of which had an upper floor made of thin terracotta breezeblocks (called bardots in French). The first job was to remove this upper floor and then knock down the internal walls to make one large space. Easier said than done as I am not a builder by trade nor do we own the appropriate tools. Nevertheless, armed with nothing more than a chisel, hammer, bucket and wheelbarrow the task was accomplished.

My aim was to create an attractive, light and airy space without destroying the charm of the building, so I have kept all the exposed beams and the high ceiling. The original doors were very small, as they were not intended for humans to pass through. This meant the floor had to be dug out by a couple of feet (sorry, I’m an “imperial” girl) that quickly turned into a sticky quagmire when I reached the heavy clay that the house stands on (somewhat appropriate for a pottery don’t you think?) The walls are constructed of stone but have seen many a practical repair in their time hence the whole lot was painted white - thereby disguising the concrete, brick and breezeblock whilst still showing the basic structure. A pottery studio, by its very nature, is nothing more than a glorified kitchen; it’s just the cooked ingredients that are different. So after installing worktops, cupboards, water, electric and my precious Kiln, “hey presto”, Xandra Ceramics Poterie de la Fermette was created.

It may have taken 18 months to achieve but it’s been a great learning curve - all of which will be put to good use when we convert part of the house into a 3-bedroom gîte, but I’ll leave that for another website and another blog!