16th Century Mexican Talavera Pottery

Talavera PoblanaSince the 16th century, Mexican craftsmen have been producing Talavera pottery.  This art form has evolved from ancient cultures and influenced the production of pottery in Mexico resulting in the exquisite Talavera pottery that is available today.  True, certified Talavera pottery is produced in the city of Puebla, in the state of Puebla, Mexico however, high-quality, modern Talavera pottery is also available from factories in other Mexican districts such as Dolores Hidalgo and Guanajuato.

Age-old techniques have been passed down from generation to generation by master craftsmen.  These techniques produce unique pieces that are truly works of art.  Vibrant colors and delicate details are trademarks of Talavera pottery that give it the characteristic color and brilliance known only to Talavera ware.

Talavera is a type of majolica earthenware that is fired at extremely high temperatures producing a very durable product.  Artisans are not limited to the production of tiles and vases.  You will find beautiful pieces to suit your taste in plates, jars, pots, religious figures, animals and more!

To appreciate your Talavera, you should know something of its origins.  We hope that this short history of this beautiful pottery lends a hand to creating this understanding.

From the time of the Olmecs, between 1200 BC and 600 AD, pottery has been a central part of Mexican life.  Their use of clay, knowledge of primitive firing and coloring techniques, as well as designs was passed down to other cultures that followed.  The Olmecs are considered by many as the mother culture of Mesoamerican civilizations.

Talavera de la Reina, a Spanish village, has long been influential in the world’s knowledge of fine ceramics.  When the Muslims conquered North Africa and moved into Europe, their tin-glazed ceramics, known as Majolica, came to Spain.  Majolica was developed in the Middle East but gained cultural diversity through influences from the Chinese, Italians, Moors and Spanish cultures.  Spanish craftsmen learned and further developed this craft and, in the 16th century, introduced it to Mexico.  The term Talavera is used to describe faithful reproductions of the pottery that is made in Talavera de la Reina, Spain.

When the Spanish introduced their stylized pottery to their recently established colony in Mexico, the local artisans blended these new techniques with their established practices to creat the famous Talavera pottery of Mexico.  It is believed that the first workshop was established in the city of Puebla around 1600 AD.  Puebla became the home of authentic Mexican Talavera and is where the first potter’s guilds were formed to establish standards and regulations for the production of Talavera.

Emily Johnston de Forrest discovered Talavera

MH458aIn the early 20th century, interest developed in collecting the work. In 1904, an American by the name of Emily Johnston de Forrest discovered Talavera on a trip to Mexico. She became interested in collecting the works, so she consulted scholars, local collectors and dealers. Eventually, her collection became the base of what is currently exhibited in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Her enthusiasm was passed onto Edwin Atlee Barber, the curator of the Pennsylvania Museum of Art. He, too, spent time in Mexico and introduced Talavera into the Pennsylvania museum’s collection. He studied the major stylistic periods and how to distinguish the best examples, publishing a guide in 1908 which is still considered authoritative.

During this time period, important museum collections were being assembled in Mexico as well. One of the earliest and most important was the collection of Francisco Perez Salazer in Mexico City. A bit later, in the 1920s, Franz Mayer, a German-born stockbroker, started his collection. In Puebla, he was considered a bit crazy for buying all of the “old stuff” from the locals. In 1986, the Franz Mayer Museum opened in Mexico City with the largest collection of Talavera Poblana in the world – 726 pieces from the 17th through the 19th century, and some 20th-century pieces by Enrique Luis Ventosa. In Puebla, José Luis Bello y González and his son José Mariano Bello y Acedo sought the advice of Ventosa in starting their collection. They amassed the largest and most important collection in the city which now is housed in the José Luis Bello y González Museum (Bello Museum).

More recently, the Museo de la Talavera (Talavera Museum) has been established in the city of Puebla, with an initial collection of 400 pieces. The museum is dedicated to recounting the origins, history, expansions and variations in the craft. Pieces include some of the simplest and most complex, as well as those representing different eras.

Talavera History

Talavera plates made in Pueblo, MexicoTechniques and designs of Islamic pottery were brought to Spain by the Moors by the end of the 12th century as Hispano-Moresque ware. From there they influenced late medieval pottery in the rest of Spain and Europe, under the name majolica.[5][15] Spanish craftsmen fromTalavera de la Reina (Castile, Spain) adopted and added to the art form. Further Italian influences were incorporated as the craft evolved in Spain, and guilds were formed to regulate the quality.

During roughly the same time period, pre-Hispanic cultures had their own tradition of pottery and ceramics, but they did not involve a potter’s wheel or glazing.  There are several theories as to how majolica pottery was introduced to Mexico. The most common and accepted theory is that it was introduced by monks who either sent for artisans from Spain or knew how to produce the ceramics themselves. These monks wanted tiles and other objects to decorate their new monasteries, so to keep up with this demand, either Spanish artists or the monks taught indigenous artists to produce the glazed pottery.  A significant number of secular potters came to Mexico from Seville and Talavera de la Reina, Spain during the very early colonial period. Later a notable potter by the name of Diego Gaytán, who was a native of Talavera, made an impact on pottery after he arrived in Puebla.

From the time that the city of Puebla was founded in 1531, a large number of churches and monasteries were being built. The demand for tiles to decorate these buildings plus the availability of high-quality clay in the area gave rise to the ceramic industry. It was soon produced by indigenous people as well as Spanish craftsmen, which resulted in a mixture of influences, especially in decorative design. The new tradition came to be known as Talavera Poblana to distinguish it from that of Talavera pottery from Spain.[2][6] By 1550, the city of Puebla was producing high-quality Talavera wares and, by 1580, it had become the center of Talavera production in Mexico.[5]

From 1580 to the mid-17th century, the number of potters and workshops kept growing, each having their own designs and techniques. The colonial government decided to regulate the industry with guilds and standards. In 1653, the first ordinances were passed. These regulated who could be called a craftsman, the categories of product quality, and norms of decoration.[14] The effect was to standardize the production of ceramics and increase the quality of what was produced. Some of the rules established by the ordinances included the use of blue cobalt on only the finest, quality pieces, the marking of pieces by craftsmen to avoid counterfeits, the creation of categories of quality (fine, semi-fine and daily use), and yearly inspections and examination of master potters.[1]

Talavera Snack Tray by Studio Tomas HuertaThe period between 1650 and 1750 was known as the Golden Age of Talavera. Puebla became the most important earthenware center of New Spain. Pieces were shipped all over the territory, and were sent to Guatemala, Cuba, Santo Domingo, Venezuela and Colombia. During this time, the preferred use of blue on Talavera pottery was reinforced by the influence of China’s Ming dynasty through imported Chinese ceramics that came to Mexico via the Manila galleons. Italian influences in the 18th century introduced the use of other colors.

During the Mexican War of Independence, the potters’ guild and the ordinances of the 17th century were abolished. This allowed anyone to make the ceramic in any way, leading to a decline in quality.The war disrupted trade among the Spanish colonies and cheaper English porcelain was being imported.  The Talavera market crashed. Out of the forty-six workshops that were producing in the 18th century, only seven remained after the war.

In 1897, a Catalan by the name of Enrique Luis Ventosa arrived to Puebla. Ventosa was fascinated by the history of the craft which was unique from other art forms in Mexico. He studied the original processes and combined it with his knowledge of contemporary, Spanish work. He published articles and poems about the tradition and worked to decorate ceramic pieces. In 1922, he befriended Ysauro Uriarte Martinez, a young potter, who had inherited his grandfather’s workshop. The two men collaborated to create new decorative designs, adding pre-Columbian and Art nouveau influences to the Islamic, Chinese, Spanish and Italian influences that were already present. They also worked to restore the former levels of quality. Their timing was good as the Mexican Revolution had ended and the country was in a period of reconstruction.

However, by the 1980s, there had been a further decline in the number of workshops until only four remained. Talavera had been under pressure in the latter part of the 20th century because of competition from pottery made in other Mexican states, cheap imports and the lack of more modern and imaginative designs.[4] In the early 1990s, the Talavera de la Reina workshop began revitalizing the craft by inviting artists to work with their artisans to create new pieces and new decorative designs. Among the artists wereJuan Soriano, Vicente Rojo Almazán, Javier Marín, Gustavo Pérez, Magali Lara and Francisco Toledo.  They did not change the ceramic processes, but added human forms, animals, other items and traditional images of flowers to the designs.

Since then there has been some resurgence in the craft. In the 2000s, seventeen workshops were producing Talavera in the old tradition. Eight were in the process of becoming certified. These workshops employed about 250 workers and exported their wares to the United States, Canada, South America and Europe.

Although the Spaniards introduced this type of pottery, ironically the term Talavera is used much more in Mexico than in Talavera de la Reina, Spain, its namesake.  In 1997, the Denominación de Origin de la Talavera was established to regulate what pieces could be officially called Talavera. Requisites included the city of production, the clay that was used, and the manufacturing methods. These pieces now carry holograms.  One of the reasons the federal law was passed was that the remaining Talavera workshops had maintained the high quality and crafting process from the early colonial period, and the goal was to protect the tradition.

However, the tradition still struggles. Angelica Moreno, owner of Talavera de la Reina, is concerned that the tradition of the craft is waning, despite her workshop’s efforts. One problem the craft faces is the lack of young people who are interested in learning it. An artisan earns about 700 to 800 pesos a week, which is not enough to meet expenses.

Talavera Poblana: Nomenclature & Production

The eighteenth-century chronicler Ferrindez de Echeverria y Veytia claimed that Talavera was the finest pottery produced in the City of Puebla, and wrote about ‘these workshops of white earthenware called Talavera that can be found within the city limits. With a white clay…they make all kinds of pieces that are so polished and original, so well glazed and painted that they are just as good as any imported from Europe, which are copied perfectly.

Today, tin-glazed pottery from Puebla is still referred to as Talavera, but no one seems to agree about the origin of this term. A rather obso­lete theory affirms Talavera was the surname of the first potter in Puebla to produce a ceramic piece of this kind, but this theory has yet to pro­duce any documentary evidence. Another states that it was given this name in honor of those pot­ters who came from Talavera de la Reina in Toledo to teach techniques to their counterparts in Puebla.Authentic Talavera Pottery from Puebla, Mexico

Resorting to oral tradition, some scholars have affirmed that Dominican friars in Puebla, who were aware of a lack in local skills (and were anxious to tile their monastery) asked the Order in Tdlavera de la Reina to send friars who could teach potters the art of tin-glazed ceramics. There are no documents, however, to support this belief. The most widely held opinion is that Talavera was given this name very simply because of its similarity to the earthenware pro­duced in Talavera de la Reina.

The most recent theory is that the term was first used in 1682 when clauses were added to the Ordinances laid down by the potter’s guild in Puebla. One of these clauses stated that ‘fine pot­tery should imitate earthenware from Talave­ra…’ which is to say that the object should be so similar to the other that only with great difficulty can one tell the original apart from the counter­feit.” Other scholars claim, however, that not one of these theories or legends proves why pottery from Puebla is called Talavera. and have conse­quently insisted on the term majolica or white earthen ware. Majolica was the Italian name given to glazed porous pottery from Mallorca, which soon came to designate any similar ceramic piece. Though the term Talavera is no longer used in Spain, it is still very much alive in Mexico, especially in Puebla where potters continue to use essentially the same methods as their ances­tors.

Indeed, the techniques involved in the making of Talavera have hardly changed at all since colonial times. Potters used two kinds of clay: a black variety extracted from deposits in the hills of Loreto and Guadalupe and a pink clay which was found near Totimehuacan. Once the clay’s had been sifted to get rid of all foreign matter—such as plant debris and pebbles—they were mixed and then left in water tanks “to rot”.  The plasticity and quality of the clay improved the longer they were left.  Before the potter could work the clay he had to remove all excess water. He then began to wedge the clay by plating it on a brick floor in a covered area where it was “treaded” barefoot to achieve an even consistency.Authentic Talavera Pottery from Puebla, Mexico

The wedging was finished-off by hand  and the clay was then divided into lumps of different sizes: the bigger ones were called tallos (reeds) and the smaller ones hulas (bullets). The potter worked the smaller lumps on the wheel to create numerous objects and used molds for making tiles. Once the pieces were completed. they were left in a closed room for a long period of time to ensure that they dried evenly. They were then fired in a wood-fueled kiln. After this firing—which lasted from ten to twelve hours each piece was examined carefully in order to separate the good pieces from those with imperfections or those that had been fired unevenly_ net-were then covered with a white glaze—made of a tin and lead base—which gave the enamel finish to each piece, According to the seventeenth-century ordinances, the proportion of glaze lo be used was 1 arroba (25 lbs.) of lead to 6 afro-bas of tin for extra-fine pieces, and 1 arroba of lead to 2 of tin for ordinary white earthenware.

Once the glaze had dried, pieces were decorated with different designs. The range of choices was also designated by the Ordinances and would vary depending on the quality of the ceramic piece. Potters prepared paints from x-ariaus mineral pigments.  Pieces were then ready for the last firing which would take up to forty hours.

Article excerpt from Artes de Mexico Magazine – June 1992

 

Talavera: A Lesson in Fantasy and Sensibility

Talavera Ginger Jar Handmade in Puebla MexicoA glass pitcher, a wicker basket, a buipii of coarse cotton cloth, a wooden bowl—handsome objects not in spite of, but because of their usefulness. Their beauty is an added quality, like the scent and color of flowers. Their beauty is insep­arable from their function: they are handsome because they are useful. Handicrafts belong to a world existing before the separation of the useful and the beautiful.

The industrial object tends to disappear as a form and become one with its function. Its being is its meaning, and its meaning is to be useful. It lies at the other extreme from the work of art. Craftsmanship is a mediation; its forms are not governed by the economy of function but by pleasure, which is always wasteful expenditure and has no rules. The industrial object forbids the superfluous; the work of craftsmanship delights in embellishments. Its predilection for decoration violates the principle of usefulness.

The decora­tion of the Talavera object ordinarily has no function whatsoever, so the industrial designer, obeying his implacable aesthetic, does away with it. The persistence and proliferation of ornamentation in handicrafts reveal an intermediate zone between utility and aesthetic contemplation. In craftsman­ship there is a continuous movement back and forth between usefulness and beauty; this back­and-forth motion has a name: pleasure. Things are pleasing because they are useful and beauti­ful. The copulative conjunction and defines craftsmanship, just as the disjunctive defines art and technology: utility or beauty. The handmade object satisfies a need no less imperative than hunger and thirst; the need to take delight in the things we see and touch, whatever their every­day uses. This need is not reducible to the math­ematical ideal that rules industrial design, nor is it reducible to the rigor of the religion of art. The pleasure that works of craftsmanship give us has its source in a double transgression: against the cult of utility and against the religion of art.

Talavera Snack Tray handmade in Pueblo Mexico

In general, the evolution of the Talavera industrial object for daily use has followed that of artistic styles. Almost invariably, industrial design has been a derivation—sometimes a caricature, sometimes a felicitous copy—of the artistic vogue of the moment. It has lagged behind con­temporary art and has imitated styles at a time when they had already lost their initial novelty and were becoming aesthetic cliches.

Contemporary Talavera design has endeavored in other ways—its own—to find a compromise between usefulness and aesthetics. At times it has managed to do so, but the result has been paradoxical. The aesthetic ideal of functional art is based on the principal that the usefulness of an object increases in direct proportion to the paring down of its materiality. The simplification of forms may be expressed by the following equa­tion: the minimum of presence equals the maxi­mum of efficiency. This aesthetic is borrowed from the world of mathematics: the elegance of an equation lies in the simplicity and necessity of its solution.  The ideal of design is invisibility: the less visible a functional object, the more beautiful it is. A curious transposition of fairy tales and Arab legends to a world ruled by science and the notions of utility and maximum efficiency: the designer dreams of objects that, like genies, are intangible servants. This is the contrary to the work of craftsmanship, a physical presence that enters us through our senses and in which the principle of usefulness is constantly violated in • favor of tradition, imagination and even sheer caprice. The beauty of industrial design is of a conceptual order, if it expresses anything at all, it is the accuracy of a formula. It is the sign of a function. Its rationality makes it fall within an either/or dichotomy: either it is good for some­thing or it isn’t, In the second case it goes into the trash bin. The handmade Talavera object does not charm us simply because of its usefulness. It lives in complicity with our senses, and that is why it is so hard to get rid of—it is like throwing a friend out of the house.

Article excerpt from Artes de Mexico Magazine – June 1992

Admiring Talavera: Made by Hand

Talavera – Made by hand, the craft object bears the fin­ger prints, real or metaphorical, of the per­son who fashioned it. These fingerprints are not the equivalent of the artist’s signature, for they are not a name. Nor are they a mark or brand.  They are a sign: the almost invisible scar commemorating our original brotherhood and sisterhood, made by hand, the craft object is made for hands, Not only can we see it; we can also finger it, feel it. We see the work of art but we do not touch it. The religious taboo that for­bids us to touch saints=you’ll bum your hands if you touch the Tabernacle,’ we were told as children—also applies to paintings and sculp­tures. Our relation to the industrial object is func­tional; our relation to the work of art is semi-reli­gious; our relation to the work of craftsmanship is corporeal. In reality, this last is not a relation­ship but a contact.

Talavera plates made in Pueblo, MexicoThe trans-personal nature of Talavera craftsmanship finds direct and immediate expres­sion in sensation: the body is participation. To feel is primarily to feel something or someone not ourselves. And above all, to feel with some­one. Even to feel itself, the body seeks another body we feel through others. The physical and bodily ties that bind us to others are no less pow­erful than the legal, economic and religious ties that unite us, Craftsmanship is a sign that expresses society not as work (technique) or as symbol (art, religion) but as shared physical life.

The pitcher of water or wine in the middle of the table is a point of convergence, a little sun that unites everyone present. But my wife can transform that pitcher pouring forth our drink at the table into a flower vase. Personal sensibility and imagination divert the object from its ordinary function and create a break in its meaning: it is no longer a recipient to contain liquid but one in which to display a carnation. This diversion and break link the object to another realm of sensibility: imagination. This imagination is social: the carnation in the pitcher is also a metaphorical sun shared by everyone.

In its perpetual move­ment back and forth between beauty and utility, pleasure and service, the work of craftsmanship teaches us lessons in sociability. At fiestas and ceremonies its radiation is still more intense and total. At fiestas the collectivity communes with itself, and this communion takes place through ritual objects that almost always are handmade objects. If fiesta is participation in primordial time—the collectivity literally shares out among its members, like sacred bread, the date being commemorated—craftsmanship is a sort of fiesta of the object: it transforms a utensil into a sign of participation.

Article excerpt from Artes de Mexico Magazine – June 1992

 

 

The Ceramic Ware Known as Talavera

Talavera is a term shrouded in mystery, though it is no less mysterious than the human persistence in shaping glazed and painted objects from the earth: objects which clink like muffled bells when struck together and allure us with their beauty. The ceramic ware known as Talavera is no doubt part of Mexico’s most important traditional art forms.

Talavera Ginger Jar by Maximo Huerta

Historically, the art of Talavera is related to certain spaces: the kitchen, the church and convent, the facade and interior of the home—as well as the workshop, where the age-old rituals of the craft are still performed. Like sculpture, this art is spatial, and it also encompasses an internal space: that of the imagery represented on its surfaces. These spaces make up a world where reality and fantasy are one, where hands that make and buy and sell join with hands that paint the shape of the artisan’s. This is the world of Talavera: a world within our own world.

Among the first natural settings for Talavera is the typical kitchen featured in Puebla: where the tiles that cover the walls—sometimes even the ceiling—and the platters of food on their way to the table, combine to form a “culinary architecture” where the interior space of the kitchen becomes a full-scale reflection of those typical dishes from Puebla—richly flavored, colorful and unique. The tiled kitchen and the Talavera dinnerware made of glazed white ceramic become a sort of echo chamber where the food is enhanced by the visual condiment of Talavera. In addition to the one afforded by the meal then, Talavera offers a pleasure that enters through the eyes. And like food, it is a pleasure that is shared.

Talavera Plate by Studio La Cupula

A very different kind of kitchen—the traditional pharmacy—was literally lined with Talavera containers which were not only practical but often strikingly handsome. These were imperme­able on the inside and were often inscribed—before they were fired—with the name of the herb or substance they would con­tain. Or, if the jars had been commissioned to be used in the pharmacy of a particular convent, they would feature the emblem of that religious order.

Churches and convents, in fact, were also natural settings for Talavera. Both housed an incredible variety of objects like the lebrillo; which was used for the both the solemn rite of baptism, as well as the banal. Day-to-day washing of hands or feet. Both the sacred and profane gestures of a community are concentra­ted in the ‘Talavera of cimrlem and convents. Though modest, this glazed curibessume pourided a sort of vivid centerpiece to the shared life of the cloister. Outside, the facades of churches were tiled with Talavera in an attempt to make the exterior syn­onymous with the wealth of gold which their altars flaunted. These facades truly project the splendor of Talavera.

Article excerpt from Artes de Mexico Magazine – June 1992