Decorating Black Basalt Ceramics: A Revolutionary Little Machine

These early black basalt ceramics are decorated with an array of engine-turned designs

Photo: Chronica Domus

I had intended to write about this subject for quite some time and a comment made on my last post from loyal reader and fellow blogger GSL finally convinced me to get my skates on and actually follow through.  So here today, for your enjoyment and edification, is my laywoman's attempt at explaining how the delightfully incised decorations often seen on early black basalt ceramics have come to be.

As readers of this blog might have noticed, I have a bit of a problem crush obsession with black basalt ceramics.  I regularly find myself reaching for these utilitarian and handsome objects to use at our table, as flower receptacles, or even as a Christmas tree holder.  As GSL so astutely noticed when I posted on my sweet peas recently, the vessel I used to hold my blooms is decorated with a cross-hatch design.  He wondered how it had been made.

The geometric cross-hatching on this black basalt vessel sparked GSL's interest and his question on how such a design was achieved on early ceramics

Photo: Chronica Domus

It was the genius of Josiah Wedgwood in 1763 that introduced the world to the ornamental engine-turning lathe which was enthusiastically installed in his Staffordshire pottery that very year.  Mr. Wedgwood had first set eyes on the lathe at Matthew Boulton's Birmingham metal workshop and was immediately enthralled by the possibility of adapting it to decorate his ceramics. By rotating the leather-like surface of an earthenware article, the potter was able to embellish the surface with a series of exacting ribs and patterns with great precision. The results would bring Josiah Wedgwood fame among his extensive circle of wealthy clientele.

A frame from a video made by British Pathé illustrating how a design was cut into the body of one of Wedgwood's pots using the ornamental engine-turning lathe

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I adore the graphic engine-turned decoration on these neoclassically inspired Wedgwood tea wares with finials depicting Sybil the ancient Greek oracle

Photo: Chronica Domus

A detailed look at two sugar basins skillfully executed on the Wedgwood lathe

Photo: Chronica Domus

Interestingly, Josiah Wedgwood's shrewd business instinct led him to market black basalt tea wares to fashionable ladies who had adopted the curious custom of bleaching their hands with arsenic. As you can imagine, juxtaposing porcelain-like skin against the dark-bodied teapots and milk jugs served to highlight his patron's vanity to great effect.

A trio of early-nineteenth century black basalt milk jugs showcasing 

three distinct engine-turned decorations

Photo: Chronica Domus

A closer look at the intricate engine-turned pattern on a helmet-shaped milk jug circa 1820

Photo: Chronica Domus

Perhaps some of my own pieces of  black basalt were purchased from the Wedgwood & Byerley showrooms in St. James' Square, London
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It did not take long until Wedgwood's contemporaries followed his lead and acquired their own engine-turning lathes.  The firms of William Baddeley and Hackwood & Co. are two that adopted this form of decoration but neither could rival the quality of Wedgwood's designs.

A beloved pair of Hackwood & Co. slop bowls display a graphic zigzag design which is not as finely executed as the Wedgwood examples in my collection

Photo: Chronica Domus

During my research for this post, I came across an intriguing photograph of the nineteenth-century ornamental engine-turning lathe in situ at the basalt room of the Wedgwood pottery in Etruria.  The lathe has now been moved to the Wedgwood Museum in Barlaston, a place I've been fortunate enough to have visited on my travels many years ago.

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What excites me most about the image is the object in the potter's hand.   It appears to be a very similar example of my basalt vase which is shown in the following photograph:

A favored piece in my collection is this small vase which highlights the supreme skill of the potter who adorned it with a band of engine-turned acanthus leaves and geometric fluting

Photo: Chronica Domus

Ornamental engine-turning was by no means Wedgwood's only method of decorating his world-famous ceramics, but it is a particular favorite of mine as the designs still appear fresh and exciting, if not slightly contemporary, two-hundred years on from their manufacture.

I hope you have enjoyed learning about the process of how these varied patterns found their way onto such handsome ceramics.  And, of course, my thanks to GSL for his intriguing inquiry which is what ultimately led me to finally write this post.  I do hope I've managed to unravel the mystery of the cross-hatching for you.

For those of my readers that might be interested in learning more about Josiah Wedgwood and his world-renowned company, and see the very same ornamental engine-turning lathe discussed in this post in action, I would gently encourage you to view this two-part film found here, presented by Associated British Pathé.