POTTERY COMES TO LIFE

TORTOISE

"I want to make a tortoise,"

Michael, the pottery instructor, looked down at Annette . "No one's
ever
asked to make one before," he said kindly," Are you sure? They're
quite
complicated.".

The nine-year old's face hardened. "I want to make a tortoise,"
she
repeated stubbornly.

Michael sighed. "We'll have to find a picture of one first, unless
you
want to visit Chester zoo."

They looked in the school's library. There were pictures of
tigers,
camels, snakes, dolphins but no tortoises.

The public library was not much help either. "Ten years ago all the
pet
books had pictures of tortoises," explained Mrs. Brown, the
children's
librarian, "But they're a protected species now and you can't buy
them."

"Why not make a sealion?" asked Michael. "You'll find it easier to
model."

But Annette's expression grew harder still as she repeated, "I want
to
make a tortoise."

They finally found what they were looking for in an
encyclopeadia.

"You can throw the shell on the wheel, like a bowl," suggested Michael
as
they looked at it together. The body can be another bowl. The head
and
legs can be stuck on with clay slip.

So Annette worked on a lump of clay, wedging and kneading it until it
was
ready to be thrown. Then she divided the lump into two and sat at
the
wheel. She started the motor and when it was running fast she
squeezed
the first lump with all her strength, pulling it up into a pyramid
and
down into a cylinder until it lay central.

As she worked, her arch-tormentor Richard sat down at the next wheel
and
started it up. "What on earth are you doing with that?" he asked
mockingly.

"I'm making a tortoise," she answered through clenched teeth.

"Stupid girl!" Richard jeered, "You can't do that on a wheel." Then
he
ran his own wheel at full speed until it shot liquid clay all over
Annette.

Annette screamed so loud that Michael came running over. When he saw
what
had happened he took Richard off his wheel and put him among the
beginners
making thumb pots.

"Just you wait!" said Richard when he met Annette after the lesson,
"I'll
get you for that."

When Annette had thrown the two bowls which would become the shell and
the
body she rolled out some cylinders of clay . Then she wrapped
everything
in polythene and stored the package in the damp cupboard.

At the next lesson she unwrapped the packge and found that the bowls
had
dried to a leathery consistency. She was not pleased. "It's flat on
top,"
she complained, "It's not like a shell."

"That's because you made it on a wheel," explained Michael. He took
a
heavy ruler and showed her how to pat the clay so that, little by
little,
the sharp edge became a curve. Then she cut five-sided figures on the
top
so that it began to look like a tortoise shell.

She took four of the clay tubes and fashioned them into feet. The
fifth
one she made into a neck and head. Then she stuck the parts together
with
clay slip and put the tortoise on the shelf to dry. When it was
dry,
Michael gathered it up with the rest of the class pottery and loaded
it
into the kiln for its biscuit firing.

A few days later Annette sat wondering how she was going to glaze it.
"You
want a brown colour for the shell," explained Michael. "Rub a black
colour
into the grooves and then wipe if from the surface.That will make
the
grooves in the shell stand out."

Annette shook her head decisively. "I want turquoise for the shell,"
she
told him, " Then I want jewels for the eyes and brass bangles for
the
feet."

"If you stick glass in the eyes it will only melt in the kiln,"
explained Michael. "You can glue the fragments and attach the
bangles
after the glaze firing, And make sure you wipe the glaze off his
feet
before he goes in. Otherwise he will stick to the kiln."

Two days later the kiln had cooled The class gathered round to see
the
tortoise emerge from his fiery ordeal, truly resplendent in his
richly-coloured carapace. Annette placed him carefully on a shelf to
await
his eyes and bangles.

But the next morning the shelf was empty. At first she thought Michael
had
taken it. But he knew nothing about the disappearance and suggested
that
the cleaner had moved it. Everyone joined in searching the art
department
but it could not be found.

Annette wept uncontrollably. She accused Richard of taking it but he
just
sneered and said, mockingly, that he must have escaped during the night
.

Curiously enough, it was in the main road that his remains were found
the
next day.The turquoise shell, cracked in two, was easily visible in
the
gutter. The class assumed that Richard was the culprit. He denied it,
but
he had taunted and bullied Annette so much that no-one believed
him.

Annette said nothing until Michael asked her whether she wanted to
make
another. "No," she said, "I'll make a crocodile."

"Are you sure?" asked Michael, "You'll have to model all the scales
and
the teeth."

"I want to make a crocodile," she repeated stubbornly.

So she chose a lump of gray clay and wedged it with her small hands
until
it was ready to model. First of all she created the body shape, then
the
legs, and finally wrapped them in polythene until the next
session.

Little by little the crocodile took shape. She modelled the scales,
the
legs,the tail and the jaws, taking particular care with the teeth.
After
it was fired she spent two sessions applying the glaze and then it
was
ready for the glaze firing. Two days later the crocodile emerged into
the
light of day and Annette placed it on a shelf. Some of the class say
that
she whispered something to her creation.

But the next morning the shelf was empty. The class searched
every
corner of the work room but the crocodile had vanished without
trace.
Surprisingly, Annette hardly said a word.

The crocodile turned up the next morning in a gutter, broken into
several
pieces. As for Richard, he was absent that day and it was the
following
week before he appeared, with bandaged leg, and a sick note saying he
had
been bitten by a dog .

"She's something of a mystery," commented her form master when
Michael
discussed the affair, "She never talks to anyone and it's difficult
to
know what she's thinking. Back in the sixteenth century one of
her
ancestors was executed as a witch.There's a pamphlet about the case in
the
British Library. It's said that her judges died horrible deaths
afterwards."

"The usual superstitious gossip," said Michael. "What about Richard?
Was
he telling the truth about his accident?"

"I doubt it. He rarely tells the truth about anything. I expect he came
a
cropper climbing a barbed-wire fence."

When he saw Annette the following week, Michael asked her what
she
wanted to make next. "A dragon," she said, "with big claws and
breathing
flame from his nostrils."

For a fleeting moment he found myself wondering who her next victim
would
be. Then common sense took over. "I'm not sure about the flames," he
said,
"and there's a lot of modelling you will have to do on the claws.
But
we'll look at some pictures."

And, as for Richard, he never teased Annnette again.