Field Notes: Latika Nehra

Early this summer I trained under Ram Gopal Saini and his daughter Garima at their quaint blue pottery workshop in Sanganer.

Being born in Jaipur and having lived in Rajasthan for most part of my childhood, I had come across blue pottery in some form or another. I studied at Mayo in Ajmer and I remember it was during a school trip to Pushkar, that I bought my first blue pottery vase. It was very tiny, yellow and had a floral pattern in white and green. It was only natural then for me to pick it as the first of the many pottery-driven crafts I hope to visit, learn more about, and document.

Blue pottery as a craft first originated in Iran but spread to Delhi and Agra via Afghanistan. Imported by Mongol artisans, who mixed their knowledge of Chinese glazing technology with Persian decoration, it is primarily identified by the vibrant-blue, underglaze surface, decorated with motifs of geometric, floral, and animal patterns. 

The craft flourished in 17th century India and disappeared again thereafter were it not for Kripal Singh Shekhawat, who in 1963  pioneered its revival in Jaipur with the support of patrons like Maharani Gayatri Devi.  Today, this traditional craft lives, adapts, and keeps evolving.

For three weeks in March, I learned more about the craft and had the chance to develop some of my own works at the workshop.

Most people understand pottery as making something out of this mouldable material we commonly call ‘clay.’ I only learned a few weeks before my trip that blue pottery  does not use clay, it uses ‘Quartz’, a mineral, that when touched feels like fine stone powder. I’d assumed it was Fuller’s earth with some gravel.

I began working with clay in that same summer of 2020 when everything in the world was shutting down. (You can read about my background here!) I consider myself a hand-builder, because I use bits of clay, rolled in my hands to build entire surfaces, a technique called coiling. Quartz unlike common clay cannot be shaped by hand — it makes the use of moulds necessary. 

The moulds are made at the workshop from plaster of Paris. Working in this way still requires effort and is a process no less laborious. It is still handiwork, especially as it involves the production of the material you are working with.

The dough is prepared using the quartz and binding material like glass powder, katira (tree gum), saji (rock salt), and multani mitti (Fuller’s earth). It is kneaded just like regular dough though never reaching a dough-like consistency, remaining very granular.

The material composition is like ‘bajre ki roti’. Or another way to explain would be beach sand, when a wave has just left the surface. When you tap on it, water collects on top, when you hold its not sticky like dough but falls apart.

The dough is flattened out under under the even and rhythmic pounding of a stone tool. The same tool is used for making flatbreads in the region. The flattened dough is then placed on its mould. The extra material is cut out, mixed back into the main dough, and reused. 

The dough-lined mould is filled up with soil or ash to get the perfect impressions. It feels similar to baking when the pie crust is filled with apples, only this pie is indigestible. The prepared moulds are flipped, placed in the sun, and dried for a day or two, depending on the weather conditions.

Fortunately for this craft, Rajasthan is one of the hottest states in the country.

Once the piece is assembled it is covered with a thin layer of liquid dough to fill any remaining holes. It is then coated with another layer of slip to make the surface smoother for painting. And another day of drying is added.

A variety of mineral oxides are generally used for painting. Cobalt oxide is used for blue, chromium oxide for green, tin for yellow, and iron is used for red. Featured prominently in all blue pottery that is out there are florals, animals, and geometric patterns. 

My forms were inspired by the motifs of the leafs and flowers used Jaipur’s blue pottery, but were themselves kept devoid of any pattern or glaze. The result was these strong, bold shapes that bring the materiality and the process to the fore while also being ornate.

The glaze provides protection and adds a glass like shine. It is the last layer that is coated onto the pieces after they are painted and sent in for firing. Note: there is no bisque fire for the wares.

The kiln at the workshop is a traditional one, it is only fired when there are enough works to fill it. The process of loading is very systematic as it is after all the most crucial part of the whole process. The firing stage is quite literally the make or break moment. 

All works are meticulously laid on trays and then arranged in the kiln by Jagdishji who needs to be inside the kiln for this part. The firewood to feed the kiln comes in truckloads. During the firing process which is about six to eight hours, the temperature reaches up to 800 degrees.

Once the fire is out, it is left to cool for two days. If this is not done, there are high chances for the glaze to crack on the surface. There are other possibilities that lead to damages as well. Sometimes works can topple or burst and cause further breakage inside the kiln. Sometimes the colours can leak under the glaze because they were applied too thickly, as I had done in some of my works.

It is super exciting when the kiln finally is opened and the works are revealed one by one. A real teaching moment when you get to learn first hand what you should and shouldn't be doing next time! 

I decided to leave most of my works untouched by colour or pattern. See them here!

I had spent so much time behind the scenes of the craft, from making the moulds to endless hours of sanding the surfaces and joining them. It was a very memorable learning experience and I couldn't get myself to cover that process under paint, as much as the thought of painting excited me. 

The forms came out so strong and beautiful, any sort of painting would only flatten their original expression. The ‘making of’ is the story I wanted to convey.