NEW ENGLAND REDWARE POTTERY

Randall Decoteau

To “throw” a pot comes from the Old English “throung” which means “to turn, to wind or to twist.” Noah Webster’s Dictionary, 1821.

The earliest settlers in New England imported most of what they needed from England, but redware pottery was one of the first necessities they made for themselves. They had a strong British redware tradition to draw on, red clay deposits were plentiful, lead for the glaze was readily available, and all they needed for equipment was a potter’s wheel and a kiln capable of firing at the relatively low temperature of 1800º. The first recorded potter in New England was John Pride, who was working in Salem, Massachusetts by 1640, but he was preceded by anonymous and unrecorded others.

The hand of the potter revealed
Redware reveals the hand of the potter better than any other pottery medium. As the pot or jar was thrown on the potter’s wheel, his fingers produced ridges on both inner and outer surfaces. These human traces are part of redware’s charm. Fingerprints are also often visible under the glaze, another quality that brings us closer to the potter. Plates and platters, however, were not turned: the wet clay was pressed into a mold, so the “human touch” comes in the decoration rather than the basic form.

Rick Hamelin, a potter from Warren, Massachusetts, says that many of today’s collectors completely misunderstand the purpose of redware. “This was a common product very much like plastic is today,” he reminds us. “If you were setting up a household, you wouldn’t be cooking in imported white wares; you would use the most utilitarian pottery available.” He explained that red clay could expand and contract with heat and that redware was made locally all over New England. If broken or damaged, it could be replaced easily and comparatively cheaply. This was the norm, for redware is low-fired earthenware that was inexpensive and not very durable. It is practical, but it also chips and breaks easily.

Milk pans, for example, were used in butteries to allow the cream to separate from the milk. When tin pans were used, the coolness of the milk was allowed to dissipate quickly, but pottery was porous and allowed moisture to condense outside the pan, thereby keeping the liquid cool. In the 1820s, redware milk pans cost around 37 cents each, less expensive than imported wares, but not an insignificant sum when the average daily wage was only 75 cents.

The potter as craftsman
Nan Wolverton of Old Sturbridge Village says that many potters were farmers who made their pots and storage jars as time would allow, before and after planting and harvest. Most redware is unsigned; the potter considered himself a craftsman who used his work for barter or sold it in country stores. She talked of Hervey Brooks of Goshen, Connecticut, whose pottery workshop is now in the Village. He was one of the few who signed his work, and we know a lot about him. His ledgers survive and tell us that he produced more milk pans and chamber pots than any other form. Ms. Wolverton tells that “his records indicate he made 10 dozen milk pans one day, and on the next day produced eight dozen more. Thrown on a wheel, it took a fair amount of strength to turn the wheel with his foot and still have the control to keep the mass of clay centered as he formed the pan.”

With all these pans and chamber pots produced, why haven’t many of them survived? Brian Cullity, a dealer and expert in American redware explained, “What has been passed down to us is an indication of the object’s quality; so wonderful examples have a stronger possibility of survival than utilitarian milk pans or chamber pots.” He says further that certain pieces are going to continue to have the same appeal now that they did 200 years ago, and so are more likely to be preserved for the future. “We are always going to keep pieces that are pretty, and relegate the out-of-fashion pots and pans to the basement or barn.”

Brian also reminded us that it’s technically incorrect to call this pottery “redware” because it comes in other colors, such as brown, depending on the clay, and we should really call it ‘lead-glazed earthenware.’ “In Europe,” he explained further, “they make an unglazed earthenware called “terracotta” but that’s very uncommon over here.”

Glaze and decoration
Almost every utilitarian form was made in redware – plates, dishes, pitchers, lard pots, jugs, crocks, storage jars – if the housewife needed it, the potter made it. These forms were also produced in stoneware during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Stoneware was more costly, but was more durable and had a salt glaze, which didn’t have the health hazards of lead. People in the nineteenth century became aware of the dangers of lead. The element was fatal for many redware potters who handled it regularly, and even in general household use, particularly with acidic products like apples or vinegar, it could cause nervous disorders and other medical problems. These factors led to the gradual decline in the use of redware; and, by the 1860s, it was used primarily for flowerpots and other decorative items.

But in some cases, glazed earthenware was healthy, despite the lead. In his book In Small Things Forgotten, the historical archaeologist James Deetz tells us that early domestic sites, dating from 1660 onward, yield disproportionately numerous dairy utensils – milk pans, crocks and jars – and suggests that this was because the glaze made it easier to clean than treenware, which was the alternative. Earthenware chamber pots were also common, perhaps for the same reason! Very few plates are found in this early period, though cups and mugs are plentiful, suggesting that the dining table was set with treen plates for the food, and ceramic cups for the drink.
Plates were often decorated with slip, a thin mixture of clay and water in a contrasting color to the body of the piece. Slip was usually white, which turned yellow after firing. The design was drawn by dribbling lines of slip from a slip cup, a vessel similar to a funnel, with a hole that allowed the slip to flow through.

Sgraffito, or incised decoration, was very popular in Pennsylvania and the mid-Atlantic states. In this method, the vessel was dipped into slip which was allowed to dry, and then the design was scratched or carved into the slip, revealing the color of the clay body beneath. Another type of decoration often seen on storage jars is a series of black or green marks, which are formed by applying manganese (black) or copper oxide (green) before firing.

It is important to remember that even though these forms are decorated, they were still intended as utilitarian kitchenware. Refined imported dinnerware and tea ware was used in the dining room, and the earthenware was relegated to the buttery and kitchen.

Preparing the clay
Rick Hamelin reminds us that working the wheel is only part of the potter’s job. In period, the clay had to be hand dug and then prepared for use. The raw clay had to be mixed using a horizontal rake or comb attached to a central shaft, which was turned by a horse. “There is a legend that you could always tell a potter’s horse in a field, because he tended to walk in circles.”

The clay has to be the right consistency – not too wet and not too dry. It is first kneaded on a work surface for several reasons. The clay must be of the correct quality. If it splits on the table, it will split on the wheel. If it’s too soft, the article will be too thick. If it’s too stiff, you will have to work extra hard to throw the pot. The potter has to check for stones or small twigs that could blow a hole in the piece as well. Rick tells us that he “shapes the clay using pressure and motion.” On the wheel, the clay is moving and the hands are stationary. The clay is actually pinched between the fingers.

Clay is naturally sticky and water has to be added as the pot is being made so that it doesn’t tear while being shaped. When finished, the water is scraped off using a wooden tool called a rib. The piece is then cut from the wheel using a loop of wire and is set aside to dry before being coated with glaze and fired in the kiln.

Regional differences
Brian Cullity tells us that identifying the origin of a given piece often involves a bit of guesswork. “We know a lot about Hervey Brooks and several regional potters, but many pieces, though distinctive, were never signed, so we simply don’t have the evidence. For example, blackware was produced in imitation of the Jackfield potteries, but it was made from Maine all the way down the Eastern seaboard. We often have to rely on form for attribution.”

His personal feelings on desirability of redware lean toward potters who experimented with glazes, especially those in southeastern Massachusetts and Maine. “These potters were extraordinarily adept at achieving spectacular colors, especially the Bristol County, Massachusetts makers.” Rick Hamelin admires the opaque green glazes of the Nashua, New Hampshire area. “Adding powdered metal to the glaze put both copper (green) and zinc (white opaque) onto the piece.”

Collecting redware
Brian gives several suggestions for beginning collectors. “Redware collectors tend to be a little more forgiving about condition,” he said, noting that, “Earthenware is brittle and easily damaged. A chip or crack doesn’t render a piece unsaleable. On the other hand, prices are entirely dependent on form, color and glaze. A great piece can go for $50,000 to $60,000 or more.” He advises the new collector that jugs, crocks, and pans with relatively mundane surfaces can be found easily for as little as $100. “Turks head molds with good glazes are common, not too expensive ($100-$300), and can be a good place to start.”

“Sgraffito was used on specialty presentation pieces for marriages or births and prices start at $1,000 and go up from there. These were items that were cherished and passed down in a family, so a disproportionate number have survived.”

“Slip decoration,” Brian continues, “adds a premium to any piece. The more interesting the design, the higher the price – there are a fair number of good pieces out there, but they still bring a strong price because of desirability.” Washington, Lafayette, Lemon Pie, Mary’s Dish, and pieces with individual names are particularly popular.

Brian also suggests that all collectors should find and buy from a dealer who is reputable and guarantees the merchandise. Each dealer knows what he sells and has infinitely more knowledge than the average collector. He adds that experienced dealers also have the hard-to-get reference library.

A WORD ABOUT REPRODUCTIONS

Nan Wolverton insists that you use your senses in terms of the smell and feel of a piece. Look at the back. If it is blackened, it is likely that it has been used in the hearth. Also, if it smells like tallow or fat, you know it had use, as fat tends to leach into the clay body. Determine if it has a soft deep shine rather than the glassy quality of a modern glaze. Brian Cullity tells us that it all takes practice, but many of the things we look for to verify age can be faked. He tells us to “trust the dealer who is reputable.” Not only does the customer have to be aware of fakes, but he also needs to discern whether the piece is of European or English origin rather than American. Here, again, you need to trust the dealer with experience.

All images are courtesy of the Wilton Historical Society & Heritage Museum; 224 Danbury Road, Wilton, CT 06897, (203) 762-7257, www.wiltonhistorical.org.