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F4 Soda Spar
44 units
EPK Kaolin
22  units
Ball Clay
11 units
Frit 3124
22 units

I usually mix about two Kilos of this mix and place it in a large plastic pickle jar. I place the lid on the jar and then roll it about the studio for a while to mix the ingredients well.
Whenever I need a color under-glaze I use 5 parts of dry mix to one part stain. I add water and mix well and let decant overnight.  The next morning I pour off the excess water and the slip is ready to use.  I might add a few drops of water as the slip thickens during my painting session.
I cannot remember where I got this recipe.  I think it was from one of my Ceramic Monthly editions years ago.  The artist who gave the recipe use the dry mix with a liquid mix consisting of 30 Grams of Gum to 128 oz of water  to be use in the liquit part of the mix.
Then One would mix 1000 cc of antifreeze (non toxic) with 1000 cc of water and to this one would add 500cc ot the gum mix.
I tried this but found the smell during firing to be too strong even with my ventilation.


Frit 3134  (F-12 frit)
40 units
Diamond Kaolin
20   units
30 units
Nepheline Syenite
10 units

  • I mix with water to gravity of 1440 grams per 1000ml of the slrry.
  • I se EPK vice Diamond Kaolin.
  •  I Seive throgh 120 gird.
  • A slight shadow of any nderglaze decoration shold be visible  when the pot is removed from the glaze.  If not the glaze is too thick.
  • Works well on thin walled pots.
  • This glaze likes a fast firing.  I se a 2hor ramp from 2 to 4 to 6 to high on the switches.

Bonsecor Bronze is a glaze recipe that is se by the Centre de Céramiqe Bonsecor, in Montreal, Qébec.


Copper Oxide
16 units
Frit 3134
8   units
EPK Kaolin
12 units
Manganese Dioxide
64 units

  • I add these ingredients to approximately 400ml water.
  • I also ensure that I stir the mix well before applying with a brush.
  •  I use a stiff brush and sort of stipple the glaze on bisque ware.
  • The glaze is a strong contaminant, so, be sure to clean your glazing area well after use.
  • This glaze works best on iron based clay.  However, I also use it on porcelain, but it must be applied well.
  • I also apply the glaze to green ware.
  • The original recipe was for cone two.  I fire to cone 6.   Better results are at cone two.


The small van carrying me from the airport arrived at Sanbao, just before the evening meal. Stepping out of the vehicle and looking around, my inner thoughts told me that I was about to experience an adventure unlike any other that I had known. This would have a profound effect upon my life and art, as well as my interpretation of Chinese ceramics, the Chinese people and their culture.

The walled residency compound, rich with the rust colored adobe surfaced walls welcomed me. Red banners hung vertically on each side of the entrance, displaying large calligraphic characters, wishing prosperity and long life to all who entered. Paper lanterns suspended like giant crimson cherries, swayed lightly in the breeze. We crossed the threshold and entered an inner courtyard that was a beautiful garden of subtropical fauna and delicate flowers. A gaggle of ceramic, Chinese mythological characters and heroes, partially hidden amongst the thick foliage stared at us as we passed by. A narrow wooden footbridge carried us across a small tributary to the entrance of the inner court. After climbing a few steps of hewn stone, past numerous clay pots, bowls and piles of fused Ming and Qing shards. The cackle of a few chickens as they went running by, greeted us. There was a small band of puppies, a delicious smell of food cooking and the soft banter of other artists partaking of their evening meal. We had arrived, and my education was about to begin.

The Sanbao Ceramic Art Institute, founded by the international ceramic artist Jackson Li, is quietly nestled on the banks of a small river that meanders down through a lush green valley, surrounded by steep, densely treed mountains and rolling foothills. The valley is a quilt of waving rice fields and vegetable gardens. Jackson Li founded the institute about five years ago. It has since grown to international stature, promoting a clay art exchange throughout the world. The residency program offers visiting artists and residents full clay studio facilities, sumptuous meals and most comfortable accommodations. Sanbao is truly a “Club Med” for ceramists and potters.
Sanbao was also to become my gateway to the city of Jingdezhen, noted for the famous blue and white porcelain ware that was a key trade item on the Silk Road and during the time of the wind filled sails with foreign clipper ships. The staff of Sanbao was to become my mentors. They encouraged me to discover the local and distant landmarks. They invited me to delve into the mysterious Chinese cultural activities, to appreciate their music, and experience the generous hospitality of the local residents.
I established myself quickly and soon followed the small road to Jingdezhen. Although some of the resident artists preferred to purchase bikes or use foot power to travel back and forth to Jingdezhen, I found the best way to travel about was by taxi. This mode of transportation was an experience in itself.
Jingdezhen is a small city. The guidebook Lonely Planet lists the population at about a million, four hundred thousand strong. The city lies on the banks of the Chang Yang River near Gaoling; a small village that was rich in supplies of the kaolin clay which is a crucial ingredient of porcelain. The Chang Yang River was the conduit to the sea that allowed the blue and white porcelain to reach all parts of the world.

I found Jingdezhen to be a bustling center of activity, dominated by the ceramic industry. Some inhabitants say that one third of the city of Jingdezhen creates porcelain objects. One third supplies the logistics and the remaining third provide the support infrastructure, such as families, schools, government agencies, local merchants and professional services.

The city was at one time listed as the most polluted city in the world. That was because it used coal and wood as its primary energy source to fire the hundreds of kilns required to convert the clay to the “white jade” porcelain. Today the story is different. Nearly all of the coal-fired kilns have closed down leaving only tall chimneys as monuments of the past. More efficient, natural gas kilns have since replaced them. The strong smell of sulfur, in the air, has all but disappeared.
I found that I could stand on any street corner in Jingdezhen, and I would see something connected with the ceramic industry. The Jingdezhen Ceramic Institute points out that there are seventy-two steps required to make a porcelain product. One person will be responsible for one task. They are highly focused, expertly trained and extremely dedicated to producing a quality product. They become masters at their chosen activity.
The city was like a large factory without a roof. It was not uncommon to see ceramic ware, at all stages of completion, being transported throughout the streets and alleys of the town. Ceramic objects would move from studio to studio, factory to factory. Each move was to complete the next step in the process. There were the throwers, trimmers, glazers, decorators, kiln masters, transportation jobbers, wrappers and shippers. The ceramic object would be sold and delivered to the customer thus ending the process.

I walked about Jingdezhen amazed at what I saw. There were factories making large-scale vases, some fourteen feet high. I saw teams of young artists moving about forests of pots, some composing landscapes, others drawing dragons. I saw a man walking down the street, carrying a large pug of clay on his shoulders. He turned up a narrow alley, and I followed. He led me through a narrow walkway, between two buildings, into the small courtyard of a clay studio. There a group of artists were creating large ceramic tiles, four foot by four foot, sculpted, in bas-relief.

Another day would find me wandering through the antique market looking for treasure. The antiques on sale, however, were probably made the day before. Nevertheless, they are at times considered being of superior quality than the originals. Another day found me exploring the back alleys of the city and finding an abundance of slip-ware studios. Thousands of green-ware forms, both contemporary and traditional, were basking in the sun, waiting for a customer. Hardly a day passed without a discovery.

Yes, Jingdezhen is a Mecca for ceramic artists, ceramic lovers and anyone interested in visiting China. Did I have time to create a body of work during my two-month stay at Sanbao? Yes, I did some artwork, but not as much as I would have wished. There was so much to see, so much to learn and so much to experience. My adventures became the start of an education that will continue for the rest of my life.


“” This poem was written using the sound or Robert Service. It is a story, that I am sure has happened to many a young man. “”

What words did she say? On that cold lonely day,
When to her I came that year.
The skies were gray and the cold wind had its way.
She held me close to her heart, without fear.
She was deep in my arms; I was enjoying her charms.
I could not believe it was happening to me.
This moment was mine; I floated on cloud nine.
My heart was filled with glee.
I remember we were deep in the park, Warm in Dad’s Buick Skylark.
When she pledged her eternal love supreme.
Now this day was special, without demands of committal.
I was sure it was just a dream.
I opened her coat and felt just past her moat.
And reached the place where men wanted to play.
I waited for resistance but she let me go the distance.
She did nothing to keep me at bay.
I knew if I stopped now, She might disallow.
Leaving my desires to freeze in the wind.
So I kept to the plan, over her body I ran
I could tell she was going to give in.
The two of us that night were soon out of sight.
The windows were filled with steam.
To a slow rhythm song we moved quickly along.
This was better than eating ice cream.
Buttons were ripped and soon I was stripped.
And committed to following through.
But my conscience awoke and the rhythm broke.
I paused, and thought of the Dad that I knew.
His advice in my mind, spoke to remind.
His voice deep in my brain did sound.
Be sure of your life with her as your wife.
Before you lay her down.
Now I thought of these words though the timing absurd.
I couldn’t get them out of my mind.
I looked at her longing face, her hand firmly in a place.
I thought she would never find.
My future loomed in my eyes; her body was so beautiful in size.
I gave in easily to accept my plight.
I move in close to her breast and gave it my best.
But somehow it never felt quite right
Our heavy breathing slowed and the good feelings flowed.
Amazed at how we had gone with such speed.
I was surprised at her agility and marveled at her ability.
In awe with the speed of her willingness and need.
I started slowly to dress and began to think in regrets
That I had deflowered an innocent girl.
But she grabbed my arm and turned on her charm.
And as she smiled her lips formed a curl.
She looked me firmly in the eye I was sure I would cry
When she smiled and asked with grin.
Will you still want me by you side? Now that I have nothing to hide.
And a part of you I now carry within?
Or will you turn your head and then treat me as dead.
Now that I have given all I had to thee?
I took time to contemplate, time to savor the bait
My answer was positive indeed.
We clung to each other closer than sister and brother.
Ensuring enough time had passed to confirm. 
I thought the love part was easy and for sure was not sleazy.
I knew I had lots of life yet to learn.
She offered me her flower filled with all of its power
Without hesitation or fear.
I wanted the moment to remember, this cold month of November
As I would forever call her, “My dear.”
We dressed in no hurry, but soon I started to worry
As she cast me once again in her spell.
She whispered words to me that night that really gave me a fright.
That’s when I knew I was going to hell.
She then leaned back on the door looking much like a whore
Using the voice from hell.
As her wings, she did spread, she looked at me and said,
“Come my dove, visit, one more time at the well.”
I still hear the words she did say on that cold lonely day.
When I came to her that year.
When the skies were gray and the cold wind had its way.
And she held me close to her heart without fear

“” I awoke one morning feeling down. This thought came to my mind and I wrote it down as soon as I could. I am sure I speak for many of the seniors out there “”

Time is my enemy.
I cannot fight its polemy.
It weighs heavy on my shoulder.
And it will not accept any form of barter.
It does not let me put any of it in the bank for a rainy day.
Yet I do everything in my power to keep time at bay.
Time is expensive and surely it is not free.
It is a final, it comes and goes, of which there is no degree.
I cannot assign it to another occasion.
When the clock stops for me there will be no evasion.
It will take me where I do not want to go.
I will receive no reprieve, no stay, and no quarter from this formidable foe.

I cannot stop it and I cannot escape it.
I will be thrown into the timeless pit.
From the beginning, I run to the end, when.
To another world unknown, I will transcend.
I ask for more free time, let’s start at my birth.
I am at the end of my stretch and must now pass from this earth.
And be placed where men upon me will tread.
Where seed for green is spread.
Oh how I wish time would slow.
My life will surely end when there is no more time to flow.
I will be placed somewhere that I dread.
I will have no say in the matter for I will be dead.

“” This was a story about abuse of young people by young people. It is a love story of a different sort “”

Everyone it seemed had his way with her.
She had been passed around, treated like a toy found.
Each boy in turn promised love, and to be a true friend,
But once her body was given, romance came to an end.
Soon another, would step up to the plate
And promise his love, in return, for the key to her gate.
Pure lust it was that they wanted quenched.
Lying no more and no less, than to guarantee their success.
She was unable to see, the game they were playing,
Heard not the words, both shallow and betraying.
For her only wish was to be loved whole and true
But one after the other, they just bid her adieu.
She came to my life on one party evening
To the converted coop, the home of my peer group.
The gang was enjoying the sweet nectar of grape
They sang screaming so loud I needed a break.
So I slipped outside, looking to the heavens and stars
Thinking of the painter, was it van Gogh or Renoir?
I heard the leaves of the trees applauding the distant chorus,
When she stepped into the light, from the darkness of night.
Her face light up my view with a smile broad and warm,
And the dress she was wearing showed true her fine form.
I then noticed her eyes, such a deep emerald green,
And there was a hint of lilac scent, both sensuous and clean.
We walked for a while before silence brought us to the end.
She told me that she needed a friend as her heart was on the mend.
Her latest love cast her aside these last two nights;
He had already tired of her womanly delights.
There were tears on her face when the sad story was told,
Then she asked me again to stay, she needed someone to hold.<b
Moving close to my body her warmth touched me so.
I was kissed passionately on my lips, while her hands held my hips.
It wasn’t too long before in throws of desire,
Making mad and enjoyable love to the background choir.
My youth and experience to her, became clear as a bell
Our coupling was quick but she whispered, she’d not tell
She left me there as fast as she came.
I wanted to love her some more, but she’d had already gone through the door.
I followed her into the room of song
But it wasn’t long after I saw she was gone.
I couldn’t let this moment go by without words or thoughts
It tightened my insides, left me feeling distraught.
I was now a member of the circle that enjoyed her gifts
But I was unlike the rest of the gang, I suffered real pang.
Something inside my heart, told me that I was no more
The young man whom had stood, alone by the door.
I was now a man of the world, someone who knew about life
And I realized right then she would soon be my wife.
Now forty-three years have gone by ever so fast,
The girl who came to me that night has never been surpassed.
We married soon after, raised our family of four
In a house full of laughter, who could ask for more?
Yesterday I put her to rest with tears in my eyes
My heart heavy with grief, as I said my goodbyes.
My life with this girl was special for sure
All those years our love had truly endured.
That night when I looked at the moon and the stars
Thinking of artists van Gogh and Renoir.
She stepped into my life and stole my heart.
From that moment on we were never apart.

“” I served 32 years in the Armed Forces and when I hear of one on my own being killed on the battle field, I am saddened. This poem is one that I penned when I heard the news of another loss of life in Afghanistan. “”

A battle gruesome
I fought this day
In a harsh rugged land, far away
Amidst the chaos
The contest grew quiet.
I lay down to rest and dream of home
Speaking with mom, kissing my bride
Walking with dad, washing my car
Cutting the grass beneath blue clear skies
Grilling some ribs, drinking cold beer
Laughing with family, dining with wine
Holding my child, visiting friends
Wearing clean clothes, a suit so fine.
But alas.
The conflict of battle, for me, is over
Dust and sand settles upon my face
The heat of the day grows cool in a way
The warm ochre walls turn a pale cold gray
The mountains give way to distant darkness
A tree reaches high towards the sky
Grasses bend and birds fly
My friends, towards me race
Telling me not to go
I smile at them and shake their hands
I close my eyes and thank them so
I found peace today, my body quiet
It floats on eight and flies by night
I am going home, others at my side
We will travel that highway
For all to wave
As we pass by
Arriving home to the pipes
Singing a lullaby
And biding farewell to all who cry
My battle of glory was fought this day
I died believing that I died for peace
I am not alone with this thought
I am sure.
Many others say it’s so
Many others say it’s so
Cpl Nicholas Raymond Beauchamp
Pte Michel Levesque
Les Héros du Canada
17 November 2008

“” A little bit of erotism may occur when reading this and of course some humour. “”

I awoke this morning to a real surprise.
For when I looked in the mirror I was in disguise.
The face looking back was not the one of my youth.
It was the one of maturity, which I dressed with lies.
Only now the mask hid not that truth.
An old man was my reflection, my eyes red with sty.
Gone, the strength from the body that carried me through time.
My torso now bent and stooped, with a crooked spine.
My youth is gone to where I know not
The corpus left abandoned, my hands in a knot
It was time gone by I danced and sang and played the part
Now my pills of yesterday wait where I forgot
The blue for my blood, the red is for my heart.
And the purple one, I am sure, won’t do a lot.
The youth that I knew would live without and be just fine.
But I must now take them all to ensure a day benign.
Perhaps I will return to my room and go back to bed.
Where, on the soft pillow, I will lay my head.
I will dream of the days of wild and playful times.
To awaken in an hour or so and to the mirror I will tread.
Check my face to see if age has carved more lines.
I am sure I will find a face of youth, in my stead.
But alas I will be too tired to crawl out from my warm nest.
So I will stay a while longer and await eternal rest

“” A little bit of erotism may occur when reading this and of course some humour. “”

Hope is in all our hearts to find eternal bliss.
We want to hold close a warm body to add to our fuel.
Enjoy intelligent conversation with a hug and a kiss
Along with bacon and eggs, toast, coffee, and our morning gruel.
Last night I opened my eyes and looked at the nape of your neck.
Followed the supple line of your spine.
And thought about our passion and our need for true love.
How we reached for each other with our torsos entwined.
I moved closer seeking the warmth of your body.
My knee nestled behind your thighs.
I became alive, my manhood erect.
I caressed your body with me eager eyes.
I came closer and rested my head against your back.
My belly felt the roundness of smooth.
I listened to your heartbeat a full sound of life.
As I thrust forward you began to move.
I closed my eyes and floated into your passion.
My body trembled and I bit the air.
My needs became my guide.
You held me close and said,”there, there”;
Then drifting back into the abyss of sleep.
I dreamt of you, my dear sweet precious jewel.
Not to mention our morning meal of bacon and eggs.
Toast and coffee and of course my bowl of gruel.