The Evolution of the Bowls I Create Beginning to End.

Over the past year or so, the medium and small bowls I've been making have undergone a sort of revolution, and I've only now just fired the first large batch of them. As a shape for a bowl, I really love these. In terms of their creation, the method used is quite unusual, especially for handmade pottery, and in the grand scheme of things, they're shapes that in some way feel quite original. I know that's a ridiculous thing to say about what's essentially just a bowl, but over the years there's often been periods where I don't like the shapes I'm making. For instance, with these fully curved vessels, whilst they're very easy to throw and glaze, they lack some sense of originality. But moreover, they sort of felt separated from many of the other pots I've been making. They're fully curved and rounded, compared to the rest of my work, which is typically made up of angles, sharp edges and straight lines. This meant they sort of felt out of place. I then retired the form on the left in favour of these. The entire concept with this shape is that they're thrown with relatively thick walls, and then, at the leather hard stage, they're trimmed to have a much more angular shape, which is something that's only really made possible by leaving excess clay in them when they're thrown. This means I can have the best of both worlds, a curved interior and an angular exterior. Yet this comes with a downside, and that's simply that they take a lot longer to create. These shapes always felt a little bit unresolved, and the truth is, I think I prefer the shallower shape. And so, with the latest version, I've tried to combine that angularity with a wider form, a tall foot, and an angular groove around the top of the vessel. This alone ties into many features found in the rest of my work, but it also creates a groove that's really nice to hold onto, as it provides some amount of grip when the vessel is held. Ultimately, due to their tall feet, these are shapes that you would typically hold as you eat from them, as, of course, a tall foot like this won't be the most stable. At the same time, the pieces are incredibly light, with the majority of the weight being held in that central column, which does help to keep it stabilised. Anyway, you may have seen the trimming of these bowls before, and thus if you'd like to skip to the glazing, I recommend skipping to about 15 and a half minutes, although within the throwing and trimming itself, I've stitched in some newer footage to better explain some of the steps. Like I mentioned at the start, I'm incredibly happy with this first batch, but I also did something slightly unusual, as this time I made 40 bowls, 10 each, from a slightly different composition of clay. 10 were thrown with the usual high iron stoneware body I use. The next were the same, but I mixed the clay with lots of hammer scale, which should produce a heavily dotted metallic surface. 10 were then thrown with this clay mixed down with some black stoneware, and another 10 were mixed with what's called a grogged pink body, which is essentially just a heavily textured clay that fires a sort of browny-pink colour in reduction. I did this to essentially just try and introduce a bit more variation into the finishes. I think this is a really easy way of changing the end result of the pots you're making, without having to rely on using different glazes. The real time sink when throwing this specific shape is the indent towards the top, but on the whole, once that step becomes well practised, the throwing of these pots is actually relatively easy. It's due to how much they're going to be trimmed, and how much that changes their shapes, I'm purposefully leaving the bottom half of this vessel below that indented section thick. I also leave about three centimetres worth of clay in the bottom, as it's that that provides the material to trim the tool feet from. This does mean that these pieces require a lot of turning, especially to hollow out that foot, but all that extra clay on the bottom makes these really easy pieces to lift away from the wheel, as it means I can simply stuff my fingers into that excess clay around the bottom, whether it indents it or not, and then I can pry the pot away, that thick base sort of keeping everything stable and unmoving. The downside with this new shape is that it simply takes longer to make. I'd say in the time it takes me to throw and trim one of these, I could probably throw and trim three of that simple curved shape I was making initially. Yet, I think the extra time is worth it, if it means making a shape that's more unique and stands out. Anyway, like I mentioned, the throwing of these probably accounts for about 30 or 40% of the making process, in terms of the time spent forming the shape. Anyway, this means that a vast majority of the time spent creating these is in the trimming. This step happens a few days later, after the bowls have been dried out really carefully, in such a way where, from bottom to top, they are the same consistency of leather hard. This, in itself, can be a relatively tricky thing to achieve, as obviously the pots are just so much thicker on the bottom than they are the top. You can see in this really rough sketch where those black portions are, are essentially where the material is carved away from, and I already feel quite practiced, as I've just made a batch of smaller versions of these. They were quite tricky and fiddly, especially the feet, as they're a touch narrower than the previous iteration. I line a board with plastic, and it's onto this that the freshly trimmed pieces will go onto. This way, I can wrap them all up once trimmed, to ensure a slower drying time. I won't necessarily do this in the future, but due to their relatively complex shapes, and cross sections that are actually quite uneven in places, I don't want to rush their drying, as that could cause issues, such as cracks or distortions from occurring. With their thick feet especially, if the cross section isn't trimmed really accurately, so that it's even on the bottom, then there's a relatively high chance that an S-crack could appear, if they're then dried out too rapidly. What makes the trimming of these unconventional, is that much of the process is done with the pot upright, like this. In a vast majority of cases, we're taught to trim pots with them upside down, yet with a form like this, it's so incredibly useful to be able to feel the cross section of the vessel as I'm working. As if I was defining these sharp angles with the pot flipped upside down, like it appears here, I'd be almost working entirely blind, which, for a simple curved shape, is a relatively easy thing to do, but with a form like this, it's something else entirely. To make sure that the width of every single foot is the same, I set my pair of calipers to the specified width, and score in a line using a needle, like so. I can then trim away at that excess on the side, which is the same excess I would have stuffed my fingers into, in order to lift the pot away from the wheel. This bowl, by the way, was made from my usual stoneware, that was mixed with the grogged pink. The clay certainly isn't pink in any way, shape or form, but it certainly feels quite rough and grogged in comparison. One trick I use to make sure the height of each foot is the same, is to jot a small mark on the back of the turning blade, using a sharpie, at the desired height. It's not perfect, and the abrasive clay pretty quickly wears the mark down, but it's a really great way of having this measurement set in space, on a tool that can be moved around and isn't stationary, as these bowls aren't always identical in height. They're mostly the same, but there can be a millimetre or two difference between them here and there, and thus having a tool for this measurement is incredibly helpful, as it isn't set in stone like a throwing gauge's pointer is. With the measurements now recorded for the width of the foot and its height, I can begin to work with a bit more speed. When I'm working on larger batches of pottery, I do actively push myself to work with a bit of speed. I think it's this process of making the same shapes over and over again, combined with actively seeking out those moments that are slowing you down, and making them more efficient, to even moving your arms and hands faster, and setting your tools out in such a way that makes it quick and easy to switch between them. Essentially, I'm searching for the fastest route, and in truth, this isn't something I could really do if I only had, say, two or three of these to make. I need dozens of them to trim, and it's this process, the highly repetitive and sometimes monotonous side of craft, that really builds a strong foundational skill set. The analogy I always go to is that repeating shapes time and time again like this is akin to a musician practising their scales, or playing the same song over and over again to perfect it. Anyway, let's do a bowl from beginning to end in a bit more detail. As you saw, the rim of this piece was wavering a touch, and so to correct that, I begin by flipping the pot upside down and I turn the base flat, as obviously the undulation in the rim is transferred to the base, and thus by flattening it, it should sort of stabilise the rest of the vessel, making it spin around more evenly. It doesn't always work, as of course it depends on the severity of the undulation to begin with, but sometimes doing this can make a huge difference. At the same time, it creates a smoother, more flush surface, and this helps the slip that's brushed onto the foot weld the pot much more securely onto the wheel head. The process of quickly tap-centring the vessel causes the slip to stick the pot down in place, but I also seal the bottom using a plastic kidney, just to make sure the piece is really well stuck down. Recently, I've really been trying to throw the internal forms in such a way that they don't require much work beyond just a quick sharpening of the rim, and a quick sponge and a burnish of the interior curve, just to make sure it's perfect. And from this point, all the work is on the exterior shape. Typically, I work from top to bottom, and I'm careful when turning these angles to not overturn the intersection and make it too thin, as it can very easily crack if overworked. By the way, the black spot you can see in this piece is a chunk of hammer scale. Yet, throughout the sequence, you will notice that the colour of the clay changes from time to time, as when I was filming this, I didn't trim the bowls in sequence. Instead, when I pick and choose the next piece to turn, I'm selecting the bowl that's the best state of leather hard to trim. Leather hard defines a spectrum of consistencies. Some are softer, some are harder, and thus, the piece that I choose to trim next is always that that's the furthest along, as this gives the other pieces that are still drying out a touch time to do so. It's these angles that are tricky to turn, and so, as I work, I keep one hand opposite where the blade is, feeling the thickness of the wall, as it's incredibly easy to trim away too much, or simply dig the blade through the wall of the pot itself. I'd say this is the halfway point in the trimming process, as from here, it's easier to flip it over, so that there's better access to the foot. The piece is then tap-centred, and as there's so much extra material in that foot, as I'm centring the vessel, I make sure it's the rim that's centred and not the base of the pot, as even if that pedestal-like bottom is wavering slightly from side to side, there's so much clay in it that I can turn it back to being true, so that it's in line with the rim itself. These pieces end up being really very thin, but on the whole, they've held up really well once fired, and I think that's a combination of two things. The first is that this thick base portion helps to stabilise the pot as it fires. The second is that the angular rim on top of the pot sort of creates a more structured form that ends up helping the vessel hold its shape as it fires. This is a better example of what I was speaking about earlier. You can see that the piece is spinning around quite rapidly, and in a jarring motion. The actual rim of the piece is centred, but as there's enough material in the foot, I can always trim it back to spinning true. Beyond these just taking more time to turn, another downside is the sheer amount of reclaim they create, as roughly half the weight of each of these is turned away during this process. By the way, for most of this process, as I'm turning, I'm looking at the pot in front of me through a mirror, as this allows me to see a much better side view, and therefore profile of the pot, as compared to looking at it from above, from a slightly skewed position. The final step is hollowing out this thick mass of clay that's on the bottom of each piece. Now, you could potentially argue that isn't it easier to throw a more basic shape and then throw the feet onto these? In one world, that could potentially be true, but in my opinion, I think it just makes the process more complicated than it need be, as not only does it introduce another throwing stage after the rest of the pot has been trimmed, but I think I'd also have to trim that thrown foot to give it the aesthetic, and to make it thin enough as compared to the rest of the vessel. It also introduces the possibility of a crack forming where the two parts are joined, whereas if I throw the piece as a whole with a very thick wad of clay on its bottom, then provided I dry it out carefully so that it's as consistently leather hard as the rest of the piece, then I can just turn it back like I have in this video, which avoids throwing another component, drying it, trimming it again, and then drying it out very carefully as to avoid any additional cracks. Essentially, I feel like it really complicates the process, but if you aren't a proficient trimmer, then the idea of hollowing out a foot like this could feel quite daunting, when in fact I think it's a bit easier. The feet of these are really important, and the very bottom of each is trimmed in such a way where it has three facets. There's the flat one, the part that will actually make contact with the tabletop, and then on either side of this, there's another facet that's at roughly a 45 degree angle. I make sure that these are really sharp, crisp edges. It's also where I stamp, by the way, pinching in as I do so, which stops the clay from splaying out. By having these sharp angles on the bottom, it'll make the waxing process easier, and also the glazing process. As simply put, it creates more defined boundaries, which makes it easier to see what you're doing, as you can really clearly see where you're painting the wax up to, or where you're scraping the glaze away from, whereas if the bottom of the foot ring itself was curved, this creates a form where there aren't really any clear boundaries, and thus it becomes slightly more difficult to define that bottom edge, and as there is some ambiguity in it, it's harder, I think, to know how consistent you're being. And with that, all the bowls can be wrapped up, and I'll leave them to stiffen up for a couple of days. Whereafter, I'll unwrap them, but I'll also sling some plastic loosely over them, all in order to just try and slow down the drying process. Here's a bowl before it's been turned, coming in at 406 grams, and now let's see how much it weighs after it's been trimmed. 227 grams, which is just about half a pound of clay, which should give you a better idea of how light these things are. The thing is, the glazes I tend to use have to be coated onto the pots quite thickly, and thus, if the clay work itself is still relatively heavy, by the time it has this thick layer of additional glaze coated over it, it can end up feeling really weighty. So they sort of have to be light, otherwise they can end up being quite weighty things. It's really interesting to see how these have changed over the years. Each has been made with approximately a pound of clay, although I've upped that just a touch for this latest iteration, mainly so I can leave a fraction more clay in the foot. I definitely noticed that I got faster at trimming these the more I worked, with the first taking about 10 or 12 minutes to trim from beginning to end, whereas the latter bowls were being completed within seven to six minutes. Most of it came down to how confidently I could trim the underside when the piece was upright. The second time sink is hollowing out the foot itself, and I think if I want to increase the speed here, I need to sharpen some of my tools, and even create a shape that's very specific to the internal form I'm after. A week or so later, after all the pots have dried out, they can be packed into my electric kiln for a biscuit firing to a thousand degrees Celsius. When a piece has been freshly trimmed, sometimes these tiny turnings get trapped inside the foot, and therefore they can be quite annoying to get out. So I tend to wait until they're bone dry, as at this stage they're really easy to remove just with a brush, like so. You could do this after they've been fired, but at that point this clay can't be recycled, and although it's ultimately a really negligible amount of clay, it's probably better to do it when it can be reused, rather than after the firing when it can't. This biscuit firing chemically changes the clay into ceramic, a far harder and porous material that no longer dissolves if placed in water. For this firing the pots can touch, as there's no risk of the clay sticking to itself during the firing. Thus, the more I can squeeze into each kiln, the more cost effective the firings are. And at this stage I can now pick up and handle the pots in ways I would never dream of at the bone dry stage. For instance, if I tried to pick a bowl up by the rim when it was bone dry, it would just snap like chocolate. But at this point the particles of clay have begun to fuse together, creating millions of tiny channels within the body into which water can be pulled into. Some of these channels pass all the way through the body, which means pots like this, if filled up with water, could leak. But once fired to a hotter temperature in my gas kiln, the pots will become fully vitrified. This means all of the platelets, the particles of clay, have fused together, which means the bare clay itself is no longer absorbent. Unlike, say, terracotta, this is a type of clay that you fire to a lower temperature, and therefore its body will always be absorbent, which is why you have to have a fully sealed glaze coating it, as otherwise not only can liquid seep through the glaze itself, but also it can be pulled into the body. And that's when certain issues can arise. Whereas with fully vitrified stonewares like this clay, even if it's coated with a glaze that is crackled, the water will never permeate the body. And thus, if washed properly with hot soapy water, any sort of bacteria that lingers in those crackles is killed. As for them, those small cracks in the glass are huge gaping crevices, meaning that if they're washed properly, there shouldn't be any issue. Although any sort of crackles or crazing in glazes do stain over time. The next step for these bowls is the waxing. I band wax onto the bottoms of these to create a region that won't be covered in glaze, as the water that glaze contains cannot be absorbed into the body, and therefore a layer of the raw material that actually makes up the glaze won't stick to the pot. Essentially, doing this just saves time tidying up later. Glaze itself, which is what you can see in the bucket here, is essentially a whole bunch of different raw materials mixed into water. Felspar, nephelin cyanide, synthetic bone ash, talc, whiten, frit, and china clay. I purchase these raw materials in large sacks, as obviously the more you buy, the cheaper it is. I then mix these up in very specific recipes, blend them all together, sieve them, and then I can dip pots into it. These pots will fire to green tones, as the red iron oxide present in the glaze here is chemically turned green during the reduction firing that comes next. Once dipped, I wipe the pot quickly on the tabletop to get rid of any of the glaze that does happen to settle on the wax. The pots are also carefully shaken to get rid of any drips that are accumulating on the foot, but also, and perhaps more importantly, to make sure the glaze on the inside of the form settle in a nice even layer without too many drips or inconsistencies. Essentially, as the pots are dipped, the water the glaze contains is absorbed into the body and a layer of the raw materials that have much larger particle sizes adhere to the outside, and it's these that form the thick layer of glaze. The water itself will evaporate in a day or two, and it's only after that's happened that I actually tidy up the pots post-glazing. There's a lot of nuance in this process that I think often goes undervalued. For instance, due to how thin the walls are, I can't just grip the pot as firmly as possible, as otherwise the tongs themselves can pierce the body. Then, as I shake the pot like this to create a more even surface, I have to lightly adjust my grip to account for that harsh jarring motion. And when it's released, it has to be done quickly and accurately, so that the tong marks don't drag across the surface. When the piece itself is dipped, it's moved in such a way so that no air pocket is trapped within the foot ring itself, as otherwise this can leave a bare patch. Thereafter, when it's taken out, it's moved around in a really careful and thoughtful manner. I'm watching the surface of the glaze to see how it's drying, and I shake it and move it around to position that still-drying layer of glaze into as neat and even a layer as possible. All of this is to say that it's really not a passive process. Glazing is an incredibly skilful procedure, and it's also a process that can change a lot depending on the types of glazes used. For instance, the recipe itself can have a huge impact on how it settles on the vessel, and so whenever you're encountering a new glaze, you sort of have to learn how it sticks to the pot. But you also have to be aware that the form of the pots you're making themselves can influence how the glaze settles and moves over it. Ultimately, there are a lot of things to consider, and whilst it isn't as complicated a process to learn as, say, throwing or trimming, there's still a tremendous amount of thought that goes into it, and it's something that's so incredibly specific to each potter, and it categorically isn't the same across the board. It's now a few days later, and the water that had been absorbed into the stoneware has evaporated. As the glaze itself has also dried out, this creates a surface that's very powdery and soft, and thus, one of the most effective tools to tidy up the surface is simply your fingertips, although I do use a knife, too, to scrape back any stray drips there are on the surface. As the glaze is now powdery, if I rub over it, the powder that comes off usually fills up any of those small holes that cover the surface, and this is typically how I deal with the tong marks. They're rubbed over, and the excess dust that comes off fills them in. It's this moment with the foot that those carefully turned lines become so useful. I can simply glide the knife along those facets to create a very clean finish on the base of the pot. You may notice that I'm working over a basin of water. I have one of these for each of the respective glazes I use. All of the dust that comes off goes into these, and it's also where I rinse the sponge when wiping clean the bottom, like so. Eventually, maybe once a year, I'll sieve this lot back into the larger bucket the piece was initially dipped into, which means over time really very little is wasted. In fact, practically no glaze goes down the sink and into the clay trap, and if I make a really big mistake, I simply wash all the glaze off a piece in this basin, dry the pot out, and then re-glaze it. This is by far one of the biggest time sinks. It's also a process that's actually really deceptively hard. It's easy to mess up, as the glaze itself that covers these pots is incredibly fragile. If you were to squeeze too hard, the glaze beneath your fingers would fracture and come off, and it's very easy to create a thin patch in the glaze by rubbing it back too much. This will create a blemish of sorts in the finished object. A brown patch, say, amongst the sea of green or blue glass. If any glaze is left on the foot, the part that makes contact with the kiln shelf the pieces are placed onto in the kiln, then it could stick and weld the pot down in place, as if glued down. And if this happens, there's always the chance that when the pot is removed, it damages the piece. As a result, any remnant of glaze has to be removed from the foot ring itself. Although in theory, there are plenty of ways of leaving pots entirely glazed and firing them. Although in every situation it makes the process of firing the pots more complicated, it introduces more potential for things to go wrong, and after the pots have been fired, it means that the vessels themselves have to be carefully cleaned up with drills, dremels, and diamond sanding blocks. In a way, this just means it's sort of easier to get rid of any glaze that lies on the foot. And despite my waxing the feet of all of these, thicker glazes still like to cling to the wax, which means the bottom of every piece has to be double checked. It's also here that I fettle a really clean line between where glaze and clay meet. The neater and straighter that is at this stage, the better it should look once fired. And it's firing these that's the next step in the process. This time, it's in my Roda KG340 gas kiln. It's fueled with natural gas, which allows me to fire the kiln in a state called reduction, which essentially just opens up a whole range of possibilities that you can't quite do in an electric kiln in the same way. For this firing, the pots absolutely cannot touch, as the glaze that coats them at the hottest temperatures turns to a sort of liquid, and if two pieces are touching, the fluid glaze that's coating each melts and fuses the pots together. This kiln is packed very tightly too, as of course, the more pots I can fit inside, the more cost effective each firing is. It also makes achieving a properly reduced atmosphere easier, as if you're attempting to fire a kiln in reduction, and there are big gaping voids inside. That's simply harder to do, as there's more oxygen present to begin with. I fire slowly initially, increasing the temperature bit by bit, as otherwise you can risk blowing pots up, as there's still chemically bound water within them. If the temperature is increased too rapidly, this turns to steam and it blows the pieces up. I initiate the reduction atmosphere at 860 degrees Celsius, precisely. I increase the gas pressure and the air pressure, and I close the dampers that cover the flues on the back of the kiln. This essentially limits how quickly the exhaust can escape, the chamber getting to a point where there's simply too much fuel inside for it to burn efficiently, as there's not enough oxygen present, and as a result, the atmosphere ends up finding that oxygen within the clay and glazes themselves, stripping it away, altering the iron itself in the process, and creating colours that you can only really achieve using a kiln like this. About nine hours later, once cone 10 is flat at about 1290 degrees Celsius, the kiln is switched off, and from this point, I open everything up to rapidly cool it down to 1000 degrees Celsius. This helps retain gloss and colour, and it prevents too many crystals from growing, which can cause quite matte surfaces to appear. Two days later, and the kiln can be unpacked. It's still usually quite hot inside, especially towards the top, which means I typically begin unpacking these from the bottom. Whilst everything is still so hot, I take some photographs, as I've been collecting the before and after images of every kiln I've ever fired. The change is dramatic, as throughout the entire process of making pottery, this stoneware shrinks about 12.5%, with the biggest change happening during this final firing. Provided everything's worked, the pots should just lift out without sticking, but the shelves themselves are coated in bat wash. That's the white you can see here coating the kiln furniture. It's made from china clay and coarse alumina hydrate, so it's a bit gritty, and it prevents the pots from sticking to it generally, provided, of course, that no glaze melts, moves down, and fuses the pot in situ. By the way, these are silicon carbide kiln shelves. They're half the thickness of the more conventional kind, and they're also half the weight too, and they can withstand being fired to a much hotter temperature. The next step is sanding the bottoms of each pot. I do this with a somewhat flexible diamond pad, which I soak in water and then bend around the faceted foot. They're given a quick polish, just to get rid of any grittiness there might be, as otherwise, if you placed these on a tabletop and dragged them across it, the coarse ceramic could easily scratch it. And with that, that's this first large batch of them finished, many of which will be included in an upcoming shop restock occurring sometime in June. As always, if you'd like a much better idea of when these shops go live, I really recommend either following along on Instagram, as I tend to post more regular updates there, or sign up to my newsletter, as it's here where I send out previews and price lists in a way that's much harder to miss, as lots of things get lost on social media nowadays. So, as you can see, they are relatively stable, despite having a narrow foot. This is mainly as a majority of the weight on these is held on the foot, so it's sort of like each has its own counterweight at the bottom. I love the side view they have, as the angularity is still relatively present, but compared to the simple curved forms, their shapes are a lot more interesting. And again, they're angular on the outside, whilst having a more functional and aesthetically pleasing curved interior. I really like the difference using four different clay bodies had. Here's one of the spotty pieces, made with large fragments of hammer scale wedged into the clay. It's iron oxide, essentially, and it's created these really pretty long metallic streaks in the surface. Here it is next to the clay body that contains no hammer scale, although there are a few bits of bronze and chunks of iron in this clay regardless, together with all the much smaller flecks of black, which again, is simply iron found present in the original clay body itself. I like these highly speckled pots. They remind me of duck eggs, almost. I think if every single pot I made was as covered in metal as these are, then I might find it generally a bit overwhelming, as it does distract from the overall shape itself. So in a way, I think it's a good thing it's only limited to 10 of these bowls, as on the whole, I think I prefer the more minimal work. Here's a white bowl that was made with a black clay combination. As you can see, the white glaze has turned grey over this. I like it, but I think on the outside it can appear a bit muddy in places. Then we have perhaps my favourite set. These were the bowls that were coated with a pale green mossy glaze, and they've definitely interacted with the darker clay bodies in the most interesting ways. This glaze has a different composition, and it's far more fluid, and therefore the droplets of iron that do break to the surface tend to flow more, creating surfaces that have a lot more movement to them. The bronze also tends to take on a deeper, more crimson tone, and the glaze builds up around the foot in a lovely thick band. On the darker clays, where the glaze pools in the centre, a really nice tone is created, and the clay body itself also becomes far more present on those sharp angles towards the top. The only downside with this specific glaze is that it's incredibly glossy. They really do feel like completely different pieces in the flesh, as those white glares aren't so apparent. Here's the grogged pink combination, which, as this glaze is quite transparent, has created a surface where a lot more of the clay's texture is visible, but this one has pinholed lightly in places. Ultimately, the whole idea of these is to have these contrasting surfaces, the curve on the inside versus an angular exterior. Yes, it's a form that might take me longer to make, but ultimately I feel like these sit within my family of work a lot more comfortably, and they are, for all intents and purposes, more interesting objects as compared to the previous iterations. You'll have to let me know what you think. Either way, thank you so much for taking the time to watch, especially if you've made it to the end of this video. Hopefully some of these pots will be in your hands soon, and, as always, I'll see you next time.