Bat,bat, bat, or batte
The first time I heard someone in the studio say, “You’ll need a bat,” I was confused, I glanced around, half-expecting a flying mammal to be involved—or maybe some kind of wooden club. Instead, there were a few round wooden and plastic discs stacked neatly stacked on a cart (Batmobile). Ah. That kind of bat.
Like a lot of pottery lingo, the term had slipped into my vocabulary without question. You learn fast when you're covered in slip and someone’s hollering over the hum of wheels and the ping of glaze tongs. “Pass the rib,” “cut it off with wire,” “use a bat.” You get used to these phrases before you ever stop to wonder where they came from.
But one afternoon, after cleaning up the studio and watching a wide-bottomed bowl dry quietly on its bat, I got curious. Why bat? It didn’t look like a bat, sound like a bat, or do anything that reminded me of one. So I started digging.
Turns out, the word “bat” didn’t originate in a pottery studio at all. It reaches back to Middle English, where the word batte meant a flat stick or board—often something used to beat or strike in trades like weaving or tanning. The deeper you go, the more layered it becomes. There’s a Latin root—battuere—meaning “to beat” or “to strike.” The Old French brought in batte, meaning a flat paddle or board. Over time, the word traveled across trades and tongues, eventually landing in English workshops where anything flat, paddle-like, or hand-held might be called a “bat.”
In pottery, the leap makes sense. Imagine a medieval potter using a flat board to lift a newly thrown form off the wheel without distorting it. Maybe it was borrowed from a different craft entirely. Maybe it was improvised. Whatever the case, the name stuck, and over the centuries, “bat” became the standard term for the removable disc we use today.
Modern bats are much more refined than those early versions—usually made of wood, plaster, or plastic, and designed to fit snugly onto wheel heads. But they still do the same job: giving us a stable, movable surface to throw on. If you’re making anything wide, delicate, or bottom-heavy, using a bat means you don’t have to touch the pot to move it. It’s a simple thing, but incredibly useful.
There’s something satisfying about knowing that this round disc at the center of so much of my work carries with it a piece of linguistic and functional history. A word shaped by hands, passed through workshops, adapted by generations of makers. The clay may change. The wheels may be electric now. But the bat—that flat, trusty tool—remains.
References & Further Reading
Oxford English Dictionary, entry for “bat (n.1)” – https://www.oed.com
Documents the evolution of “bat” from Latin battuere to Middle English batte as a flat tool or club.Online Etymology Dictionary – https://www.etymonline.com/word/bat
Traces the origin of “bat” in English usage and its various meanings in different trades.Rhodes, Daniel. Clay and Glazes for the Potter. Krause Publications, 2000.
Contains descriptions of tools used in wheel-throwing, including bats.Nelson, Glenn C. Ceramics: A Potter's Handbook. Harcourt, 1984.
Offers historical context and practical information on studio pottery tools.Cooper, Emmanuel. Ten Thousand Years of Pottery. University of Pennsylvania Press, 2010.
Provides a broader historical sweep, including early studio practices.The Pottery Studio Glossary – https://www.potterystudio.com
A helpful online reference with historical notes on the term bat and other studio tools.
The Science Behind Pottery Kilns: My Journey with Fire and Clay
Pottery has always fascinated me. There’s something almost magical about transforming soft, malleable clay into sturdy, beautiful ceramics. Central to this transformation is the kiln, the heart of the pottery process. Let me take you on a journey through my experiences and discoveries with kilns, as I delve into the science and art behind these essential tools.
My First Encounter with a Kiln
I still remember the first time I loaded a kiln. The air was thick with anticipation and the faint, earthy smell of wet clay. I carefully placed my greenware—unfired clay pieces—inside, making sure they didn't touch each other. This step was crucial to prevent them from fusing together during the firing process. Little did I know, this was just the beginning of my journey into the intricate world of pottery kilns.
The Bisque Firing: A Rite of Passage
The initial firing, known as bisque firing, was a revelation. As the kiln heated up to temperatures between 800°C to 1000°C (1472°F to 1832°F), I could almost feel the physical water evaporating from the clay. This stage hardened the pieces into a porous state called bisque. Watching the transformation was like witnessing a rite of passage for my creations. The organic materials burned out, and the clay particles started to sinter, partially fusing together.
The Alchemy of Glazing
After the bisque firing, I applied glaze to the bisqued pieces. This step always felt like alchemy. Glazes are made from a mixture of silica, fluxes, and metallic oxides. When these compounds melt and bond during the final firing, they form a glassy coating that can add color, texture, and waterproofing to the pottery. The glaze firing, which happens at higher temperatures—typically between 1200°C to 1300°C (2192°F to 2372°F)—was where the real magic happened. The clay vitrified, turning into a non-porous, glassy state, and the glaze melted into a smooth, often glossy finish.
The Science Behind the Transformation
As I became more experienced, I delved deeper into the science behind these transformations. The process begins with dehydration. As the kiln heats, physically bound water in the clay evaporates, starting around 100°C (212°F) and continuing up to 300°C (572°F). Next, organic materials within the clay burn off between 300°C and 900°C (572°F to 1652°F), strengthening the clay body. The quartz inversion at around 573°C (1063°F) was a critical point I had to monitor carefully to avoid cracking.
The final stages involve sintering and vitrification. Between 900°C and 1300°C (1652°F to 2372°F), the clay particles fuse together, creating a solid structure. The silica in the clay melts, filling any pores and creating a glassy, non-porous matrix. Each firing was a delicate balance of timing, temperature, and chemistry.
Exploring Different Kiln Types
Over time, I experimented with different kiln types. Electric kilns, common in studios and schools, offered precise temperature control and consistent results. They used resistance coils to generate heat, and their simplicity made them perfect for beginners. However, gas kilns, which use natural gas or propane, became my preferred choice for high-temperature firings. These kilns allowed me to control the kiln’s atmosphere—oxidizing or reducing—which significantly influenced the glaze's final appearance.
I also tried my hand at wood-fired kilns. These traditional, labor-intensive kilns required constant attention and skill but rewarded me with unique effects due to the variable atmosphere and ash deposits. Each firing was an adventure, producing distinctive results that reflected the interplay between fire, clay, and my craftsmanship.
The Dance of Kiln Atmospheres
One of the most fascinating aspects of kiln firing is the atmosphere inside the kiln. In an oxidizing atmosphere, plenty of oxygen is available, resulting in bright and consistent glaze colors. This atmosphere is typical in electric kilns and can be achieved in gas kilns by adjusting the air-to-fuel ratio. On the other hand, a reducing atmosphere, with limited oxygen, leads to unique glaze effects characterized by earthy, varied hues. This atmosphere is commonly achieved in gas and wood kilns by reducing the air supply, encouraging carbon monoxide production, which reacts with metal oxides in the glaze.
The Endless Journey
Each firing taught me something new about the delicate balance between material properties and artistic vision. Understanding the science behind pottery kilns deepened my appreciation for this ancient craft. The kiln is more than just a tool; it's a partner in creation, blending art and science to bring my ceramic dreams to life. As I continue my journey with fire and clay, I am constantly reminded of the intricate dance that turns humble clay into timeless works of art.