International studio (51.1913/1914)

William A. Robertson, Master Potter

delicate pieces. It requires patience and skill, an
“enthusiastic patience.” A dragon-fly’s wing or
a tiny flower scarcely loses any of its grace, trans-
lated into this material.
The modern jewelry worker uses stones that are
valuable for their color and decorative quality.
Miss Strange likes best the moonstone and sap-
phire; the former is particularly effective, as it
takes or reflects the colors in the enamels. Cabo-
chon stones combine better with enamel than the
faceted stones.
The large heart-shaped pendant illustrated
is in the most delicious sea-foam shade of green
enamel, with design of apple-blossoms and border
of leaves. Opals and chrysoprases are the stones.
Miss Strange shows great refinement of taste
and variety of design. In her studio, which is
now in Washington, she seems to wave the queer
little tools like magic wands above a table covered
with pretty colored glass, gold, silver and shining
stones, and behold there is fashioned the daintiest,
loveliest things to tempt the feminine heart.
ILLIAM A. ROBERTSON, MAS-
TER POTTER
BY EDITH DUNHAM FOSTER
Five generations of Robertsons
have made things of clay with their hands. Today,
in his pottery in Dedham, Massachusetts, William
A. Robertson, the last potter of his line, watches
the clay as it is thrown onto the wheel, and travels
from the kiln to the decorator, to the bath of glaze
and back to the kiln, until it takes a form that is
one of the distinct contributions of America to
the art of all time. But it is at a fearful price,
paid by five generations, that a Robertson has
learned his supreme mastery of the craft.
Over a century ago, on the rugged hills of Scot-

land, James Robertson fashioned clay into jugs
and pots. His son Hugh made jugs and pots of
clay. Another James was born and a second
Hugh, and they, too, fashioned clay. One by one
they longed for wider fields, and came to America.
Together the Robertsons opened the Chelsea Pot-
tery, near Boston. Hugh and the rest were fast
held by the love of the beautiful in form and
color, and of the common, red, porous clay, which
others thought valueless except for bricks, they
began to model perfect forms after the Greek
vase. But machinery came, and made a vase of
similar form at a quarter the price. So back to the
jugs and pots for daily bread went the beauty-
loving Robertsons. Financial discouragement
was not sufficient to keep them from the deco-
rative branch of the potter’s trade, and, in the
years which followed, they reproduced beau-
tiful forms and pure designs. It was a weary
task, however, for they worked unceasingly but
unavailingly to reproduce the wonders of the
ancient pottery of the Orient. Then there came
a vase from the kiln with a tiny, glowing spot
of pure ruby red—-the dragon’s blood.
Years went by; one by one the Robertsons
dropped off, either dead or in commercial branches
of the manufacture of pottery. Still Hugh plod-
ded on, with only his young son, William, for a
helper, and the vision of the one ruby red spot for
inspiration. Money they had none; makeshifts
they made do the work of modern appliances.
Today may still be seen at the Dedham works the
crude grinding wheel, mounted upon the stand of
an old sewing machine, that was for years the
chief machinery. One dollar each Saturday night
was all the lad William could have. The boy
became restless. Hugh, the father, though still
absorbed in his quest, realized that the lad was
entitled to answer the youthful demand for



Courtesy of A. C. Saunders, Photographer, Wakefield, Massachusetts

THE NEWEST SHAPES

XCV