FAHRENHEIT 2300 by Crocker Farm

The question of a potter’s intent as he made a particular piece is a central one in the field of ceramic study. Even on the most straight-forward example, such as a plain, unadorned jar or jug, questions that can often never be answered conclusively rear their heads: What was it made for? Did it have one specific use, or many? What tools were used, and why? What level of standardization was expected within any given pottery during a specific time period? Was it made for a particular client? Who made it?

When decoration or other more elaborate attributes are added to the equation, the line of questioning extends itself that much more. What is the decoration supposed to represent? Was the decoration part of some kind of standardized design theme produced by the pottery? If so, was this an attempt at “branding” by the pottery owner, was it simply a mass production technique, or was it both? If the decoration is a variation on a theme by another pottery, was this done as a way to capitalize on someone else’s successful brand?

The large number of questions that can accumulate for even some of the seemingly simplest pots highlights the complexity in evaluating American stoneware and redware, and all art, for that matter. One important aspect of American stoneware production that factors into our evaluation of it is the business side of this decorative art form. The Thomas Commeraw jug we recently received for our July 11, 2009 auction is a good example of a piece that seems to have been made with commerce heavily in mind.

The Commeraw jug is one of the most finely made of any of his extant vessels. The contrast between the rich, dark cobalt blue against a very light gray colored body must have been at or very near the ideal appearance Commeraw sought as he fired it. The clay itself looks like it was specifically chosen or refined to be low in impurities and iron oxide, which contributes to the brown look of some stoneware. Each impressed letter and decorative element was applied deeply and with great care, to make them extraordinarily legible. The vessel itself is very well-thrown–a large, bulbous shape culminating in a pronounced, tooled spout. All of these attributes beg the question, why was this particular vessel so extraordinarily well-made?

Most other surviving Commeraw examples are a brown or tan color, though some achieve an attractive blue-on-gray that comes close to, but falls short of, that seen on this example. The crescent and tassel designs are often stamped in a more haphazard manner and can be harder to make out than in this case; the same goes for the maker’s stamps. In fact, the maker’s mark itself was very carefully applied to apparently communicate a specific message: “N. YORK” is impressed directly below the spout, giving a prominent place to declare the jug’s city of origin. Beneath that, encompassed by the striking, blue-highlighted decorative stamps, is the maker’s brand name, “COMMERAWS STONEWARE,” displayed with the confidence that the viewer will be impressed with the artist’s work. Finally, “CORLEARS / HOOK” lists the section of Manhattan on the East River where Commeraw potted.

Throughout his work, Commeraw made use of the many different combinations of words available within the repertoire of his maker’s stamps, which this jug displays in its entirety. “COMMERAWS” on one side of a vessel with “STONEWARE” on the other, simply “COMMERAWS / STONEWARE” or “CORLEARS / HOOK,” the name “COMMERAWS” alone–all sorts of variations of these marks were used by this prolific potter. Sometimes little import is apparent within the particular chosen combination, but in other cases the specific wording seems carefully selected. For instance, pieces stamped with “CORLEARS HOOK” but not “N. YORK” may have been made specifically for a local New York clientele.

Here, the prominent placement of “N. YORK” beneath the spout may indicate that the jug was made for customers far away from Manhattan. If so, Commeraw probably meant not only to communicate its city of origin, but to conjure into a potential customer’s mind the implications a New York hallmark carried with it.

New York stoneware seems to have been generally regarded as a standard-bearer of American stoneware production. The stoneware potteries of the Manhattan Crolius and Remmey families were some of the first firmly established in the United States, and carried a reputation not only as venerated, established companies but as part of the larger, extremely well-respected network of New York craftsmen. In 1812, when prominent Baltimore merchant William Myers hired New York stoneware potter Henry Remmey, Sr. to manage his Baltimore Stone Ware Manufactory, he bragged in local papers that he had “engaged Mr. Remmey, of New York, to superintend the Factory.” Subsequent ads by the Myers family over the next decade continued to stress Remmey’s New York heritage. The names of specific New York stoneware makers were probably known up and down the east coast, as well. For instance, in 1828, J.B. Cross, a Portland, Maine, merchant advertised “a large assortment of ‘Croliu’s’ [sic] New York painted, superior ware” in his local paper. In the same ad, which included many different consumer goods ranging from mustard to rat traps to toy soldiers, he boasted that he was “agent for several extensive New York manufactories.”

This claim is important in trying to ascertain the relationship between local pottery shops and distant merchant stores, and may help explain Commeraw’s intentions as he made this particularly fine example of his work. The jug was found in a barn in North Carolina, where it had apparently been kept hidden away for a long time. While pieces frequently migrated throughout the country over the past 200 years, items discovered in the manner this one was are often “native” antiques–objects resident in their current locale since around the time they were made. All of the notable attributes of this jug–the large size, exceptional craftsmanship, emphasis of its New York origin, and brilliantly emblazoned maker’s name–lead me to believe that it was made for a local Southern U.S. market to advertise the kind of high-quality, New York ware a particular merchant had to offer.

As I said at the beginning of this article, the question of what the potter had in mind as he produced a particular piece is usually one we can never completely answer. In the case of the Commeraw jug, any attempt to explain its specialness certainly falls into the category of conjecture. But I believe the circumstantial evidence is strong that this jug was made with the intent of advertising Commeraw’s New York-manufactured stoneware, to show a Southern market what he was capable of. In fact, in not just this case but also that of his entire body of work, Commeraw’s use of “CORLEARS HOOK” in his maker’s mark seems like an attempt at furthering his brand name and separating himself from the venerated Crolius and Remmey potteries located in lower Manhattan. Also, the backwards “N” in “N YORK,” not seen on other examples, may indicate that this jug was made earlier in the potter’s career than most other extant pieces, when he was still establishing himself as a pottery owner.

The relationship between stoneware potteries, local merchants, and distant merchant-agents is one that has not been explored as much as it could be. I believe the more we come to understand about this commercial side of stoneware production, the better we will be able to evaluate the surviving objects these artist-businessmen produced.

The chicken pecking corn motif, found primarily on pieces by several New York State and some New England makers, is one of the most recognizable designs in all of American stoneware. We’ve been consigned one of the most interesting examples of stoneware we’ve found decorated with this desirable scene for our July 11th auction. When I first saw this little piece, measuring just 5 1/4″ tall and 6″ wide from spout to rim, I was immediately taken with the size (especially considering the fact that this design is usually found on much larger pieces, usually between two and six gallons in size). This example holds only about a half-gallon.

While the reverse is decorated with a chicken pecking corn, the front features a design of a long-tailed bird perched on a stump. Based on the style of these designs, the pot was likely made at the Brady and Ryan pottery of Ellenville, NY, or the Adam Caire pottery of Poughkeepsie, NY. The form, like a cream jar with wide pouring spout, is highly unusual for New York State stoneware. We believe it is best classified as a batter bowl, with the tall, curved sides allowing for easy mixing. Its incredible condition suggests it saw little or no use.

The reverse bears the impressed name and date “VANCORTLANDT / 1884,” indicating that the pot was likely made as a presentation piece for a member of the prominent Van Cortlandt family of New York. Several Van Cortlandts are significant to New York state’s political history. Two Van Cortlands, Stephanus (1643-1700) and his brother Jacobus (1658-1739), served as mayor of New York City. Stephanus was also owner of large tract of land in Westchester County, NY, where Van Cortlandt Manor was built. This site can still be visited today, where tours of the many buildings and gardens are available. A second New York landmark, Van Cortlandt Park, which is located in the Bronx, is also named after Stephanus. A third Van Cortlandt, Frederick, built a mansion on this second site in 1748, which was used as George Washington’s headquarters for a period during the Revolutionary War. It was purchased by the City of New York in 1888, when it was converted into park land. Van Cortlandt Mansion now stands as a museum and includes many of the family’s original possessions. Since several Van Cortlandts were still living at Van Cortlandt Manor and Van Cortlandt Mansion during the 1880s, it is possible that the bowl we recently acquired was made for use on one of these two homesteads.

Regardless of who this piece’s intended owner really was, the exceptional size, form, and outstanding two-sided bird decoration, make it one of the more notable auction offerings of New York State stoneware in the past few years.

An important example of Baltimore, MD, stoneware was recently rediscovered at a small estate auction in Baltimore County. Known to the public only through a fifty year old black-and-white photograph, this stoneware vessel, a mortar made by Peter Perine in 1812, remained in the same unknown collection until it was sold unadvertised in January of this year. While the significance of this mortar had been forgotten with time, its rediscovery has shed light on the type of stoneware manufactured by Peter Perine and other Baltimore stoneware potters before Henry Remmey arrived in the city.

Written in 1959, John N. Pearce’s master’s thesis, “The Early Baltimore Potters and their Wares,” still remains the most significant written work on Baltimore’s stoneware potters. While a lot of its information has become outdated, it fleshed out the major figures in the early Baltimore stoneware industry and is certainly the most valuable secondary resource I am consulting while working on my book on Baltimore stoneware. In addition to information, this thesis contains black-and-white photos of several examples of Baltimore stoneware and redware, most of which belong to the Maryland Historical Society but some were credited to private collections. One such piece is a stoneware mortar made by Peter Perine incised “P x P 1812.” This piece always intrigued me since it is the earliest known dated example of Baltimore stoneware as well as the only known piece of stoneware made by Peter Perine, patriarch of perhaps Baltimore’s most important potting family. However, the black-and-white photograph in Pearce’s thesis withheld a lot of information about the quality of this mortar, how evenly Perine fired it, the quality of the salt glaze and even the method of decoration. All of these attributes testify to whether or not a potter was skilled at manufacturing stoneware. And without being able to examine this “lost” piece of stoneware, in doing research on Baltimore stoneware, the Perine mortar was more of a curiosity than anything else to me.

1812 is a very early date for Baltimore stoneware. While Thomas Morgan, Baltimore’s first stoneware potter, began operation in 1793, the beginning of stoneware production in Baltimore as stoneware collectors and scholars know it should be traced to the start of the War of 1812 and the subsequent American reliance on native manufacture. In 1812, Thomas Morgan drastically expanded his manufactory and took on William and Thomas Amoss as partners. In 1812, David and Elisha Parr opened their manufactory, initially producing only earthenware. And, most significantly, in 1812, Henry Remmey and his son, Henry Harrison, moved from the early American stoneware center of Manhattan to superintend William Myers’ Baltimore Stoneware Manufactory. It was the knowledge and experience that the Remmeys brought to Baltimore, I argued in my article on the Remmeys in Baltimore (see Ceramics in America 2004), which transformed the Baltimore stoneware industry into the well-respected manufacturing hub it remained throughout the century.

The earliest known dated example of Baltimore stoneware, other than the Perine mortar, is dated 1819 (several known Morgan & Amoss pieces bear this date). In my article on the Remmeys in Baltimore, I made assumptions about the quality of Baltimore stoneware manufactured before their arrival in the city in 1812 but these assumptions were not based on concrete evidence. I had a large body of Baltimore stoneware to work with, all of which was manufactured after the Remmeys came to the city. Some of the finest stoneware produced in America was made in Baltimore between 1812 and about 1850. Well-fired vessels, intricate incised designs, artistic brushed floral motifs, even gray clay bodies with vibrant cobalt-oxide decorations, all compose many examples of Baltimore stoneware that still survive today. What has not survived are examples of Baltimore stoneware produced before the Remmeys’ arrival. I assumed that a stoneware pitcher excavated in Baltimore was made in this pre-historic era of Baltimore stoneware production. It was well-thrown but poorly-fired, hallmarks of a skilled potter’s inability to master the art of burning a kiln without rapid temperature fluctuation up to roughly 2300 degrees fahrenheit and sustain that temperature while the clay vitrifies and the salt reacts and bonds with the clay. However, without an example of stoneware definitively made in Baltimore during this early period, I was forced to make well-informed assumptions rather than concrete comparisons.

However, in January of this year, with the passing of a long-time antiques collector, a group of Perine family pottery, which had been hidden for fifty years, suddenly came to light. Among this group of pottery that was sold unadvertised at a local estate auction was the Perine mortar. Now in a private collection, the mortar tells the tale of the type of stoneware Baltimore’s homegrown potters were manufacturing at the time of the Remmeys’ arrival. This piece was not expertly fired. Perine probably did not get the kiln up to temperature, evidenced by the fact that the salt glaze did not adhere to the mortar evenly, the finish of this vessel ranging from glossy to matte. The mortar is well-thrown, evidence of Perine’s training as an earthenware potter. And perhaps most interesting, the mortar is decorated with an iron-oxide dip. Most often associated with the potteries of Frederick Carpenter and Barnabas Edmands in Charlestown, MA, and John Swann in Alexandria, VA, using iron oxide was a much cheaper method of elaborating a piece of stoneware than using cobalt oxide. The earliest Baltimore stoneware potters knew their role in the market was as a cheap, local alternative to the higher-quality stoneware manufactured in England and northern American cities, such as New York and Hartford, Connecticut. Decorating with iron oxide would have kept their costs down significantly and been more in keeping with their skill level as potters.

It is both exciting and puzzling that a piece of stoneware so well documented could wind up selling without fanfare at an estate auction. We have heard many similar stories as this one, where heirs inherit important stoneware and unwittingly dispose of it at yard sales, flea markets, unheralded auctions and the like. In other cases, keeping significant information, such as appraisals and photocopies from books, with important stoneware has often kept other pieces of stoneware from a similar fate. This example was fortunately rediscovered but how much rare and valuable American stoneware ends up getting lost in the shuffle?

We were all excited to receive the P. CROSS / HARTFORD incised ship jug–a rare example of stoneware that combines a scarce, desirable maker’s mark with a well-rendered, unusual decoration–for our July 11, 2009 auction. The consignment of this piece got me interested in this fairly mysterious potter, and I took an excursion into some early Hartford, Connecticut, newspapers to see if I could dig up anything new on him.

The best reference I have been able to find on Peter Cross is Lura Woodside Watkins’ 1950 book, Early New England Potters and Their Wares. Watkins’ brief biography of Cross’ career is written as follows:

In the 1790′s, … John Souter, an Englishman, made his appearance in Hartford. He is said to have built an earthenware shop on the northeast corner of Potter and Front Streets. In 1805 he sold it to Peter Cross, a stoneware manufacturer. The name Cross does not occur in the land records, and I believe he was not a native of Hartford. Although he made some excellent stoneware, he was not altogether successful. After a few years he sold his first building to Horace Goodwin and Mack C. Webster and moved to 38 Front Street; but this, too, he abandoned at some time before 1818. Cross’s business was taken over by two retired sea captains, George Benton and Levi Stewart, who lived on either side of the pottery. They found a manager in Daniel Goodale, Jr. (Watkins, 194)

All of these stoneware makers’ names still exist as impressions on pieces of pottery. Jugs and jars marked “GOODWIN & WEBSTER / HARTFORD,” “D. GOODALE / HARTFORD”, and variations thereof regularly come up for sale, and while more difficult to find, “G. BENTON & L. STEWART” pieces do, as well.

According to Watkins, Cross began his career as a pottery owner in Hartford in 1805. While that may be true, he probably was not marking his pieces “P. CROSS” until the following year. In searching Hartford newspapers of the time period, I discovered two interesting ads relevant to Peter Cross’ career. The first appears in the March 27, 1806  issue of the American Mercury:

NOTICE.
Dissolution of Copartnership.
THE connection in business subsisting between the Subscribers, under the firm of CROSS & SMITH, was dissolved by mutual consent, on the first day of January last–All persons having any demands against said firm, are requested to exhibit their claims immediately to the Suscribers.
PETER CROSS,
SAMUEL W. SMITH.

N.B. The business in future of making and vending Stone Ware, will be carried on by said Cross–where all kinds of articles in the Stone Ware line, will be for Sale, on the lowest terms, at his Factory, in Front-street, 40 rods south of the market, in this city.

An apprentice to the above business will meet with good encouragement by applying to said CROSS immediately.

City of Hartford, 27th March.

The partnership of Cross & Smith is a previously unknown one, and no pieces, to my knowledge, exist with its mark. Samuel W. Smith, likewise, is a previously unknown potter, but it is likely that he is a relative of prolific Norwalk, CT potter Asa E. Smith, whose work exists today bearing many different maker’s marks.

We can confidently say, based on this advertisement, that pieces marked “P. CROSS / HARTFORD” were made, at the earliest, beginning on January 1, 1806. This first endeavor by Cross to own his own shop ended fairly quickly however. On November 17, 1808, the following ad ran in the American Mercury:

THE Public are respectfully informed, that the Subscribers, have lately taken the Stand, formerly occupied by Peter Cross, as a STONE WARE Factory, where they have constantly on hand, an Assortment of this article, at Wholesale and Retail, where Dealers, in the above article may be supplied, on as accomodating [sic] terms as at any other Factory.
GOODWIN & WEBSTER.
Hartford, Nov. 17.

Watkins says that after selling his pottery to Goodwin & Webster, Cross took up a new business down the street and continued there until “some time before 1818.” As is often the case with the earlier works on American stoneware and redware, Early New England Potters and Their Wares contains no proper citations, so it can be very unclear where the author obtained her information–and, moreover, just what is incontrovertible fact and what is speculation, assumption, or second-hand knowledge. Watkins’ book is, nevertheless, a very good work on its subject and a lot of research clearly went into its writing. In order to verify that Cross did start again in his own firm, however, since no Hartford city directories exist for the years 1800-1824, a search of the city’s land records would have to be done.

At this time, then, the only firm, definite dates for pieces marked “P. CROSS / HARTFORD” are January 1, 1806 to about November 1, 1808. It seems very possible, given Watkins’ research, that Cross did use the mark after this period, and it is also possible, though unlikely, that he did so at some point before, as well. The rarity of pieces stamped by Cross makes me wonder, however, if his signed work was, in fact, limited to that 1806-8 time frame. The incised ship jug does seem to date to an early period such as this.

Hartford, Connecticut, was clearly a hotbed for stoneware production beginning around 1800. Many, many marks were used as various potters and pottery owners opened new shops, took over each other’s businesses, and struck new, and dissolved old, partnerships with one another. Cross’ status as the earliest Hartford stoneware potter to sign his work makes him significant, and his work is quite sought after. Hopefully more research on these prolific potters will better flesh out their lives and the dates of their many diverse maker’s marks.

Growing up, I remember reading about Anna pottery in antiques books and was always fascinated by the stuff. A large snake jug I saw in an art magazine particularly made an impression on me. The jug was made of blue-decorated stoneware, something my family had been selling at antique shows for years, and yet the object seemed like something altogether different. The level of sophistication of the jug was unlike most of the stoneware we had sold, or seen for that matter. It was imbued with a sense of motion and seemed alive as several hand-modeled snakes slithered across its surface and formed its handle. A horrified man ‘s head and limbs protruded through the walls of the jug, his body trapped inside. If one of these objects was discovered from a different pottery, it would be hailed as a potter’s single greatest masterpiece. What is amazing is that two brothers, Wallace and Cornwall Kirkpatrick, who owned and operated Anna Pottery in Anna, IL, from 1859 to 1896, produced a large number of these extraordinary items. The intricate detail evident in their snake jugs and other highly decorated stoneware pieces makes one wonder, “When did they find the time to make standard utilitarian pots?”

The cover story of the April 24th issue of Antique Week, entitled “Anna Pottery Full of Imagination,” focuses on the Kirkpatricks and their various products. Since setting a record for an Anna pig bottle back in 2004, we have been fortunate enough to handle several fine examples of the brothers’ pottery, and were contacted by Antique Week for their article. My father, Anthony Zipp, was interviewed and some of the pieces we have sold through our auction,  Crocker Farm, are pictured. This article discusses the personal lives and interests of the Kirkpatricks and offers insight into how these influenced their work. Numerous Anna pottery forms are discussed and opinions on the current market are presented. The article is both a visually-appealing and informative read. You can read an online version of the article here.

Anna Pottery has been steadily on the rise in value over the past several years. It remains highly desirable today for a few important reasons. To begin with, it is rare enough to keep serious collectors seeking it and the value high. Secondly, and most importantly, it is pleasing to the eye. In the antiques world in general,  collectors love figural forms. In Anna pottery, human and animal shapes abound. There are pig bottles, frog inkwells, applied dung beetles and salamanders, male and female figures, and  snakes of all sizes. Many such objects and vessles are incised with whimsical and humorous phrases, related to the Temperance Movement or local politics. The all-too-well-known pig bottle, which features a drinking spout at the pig’s rear, is often painstakingly incised with a map of the Midwest. The highly decorative nature of these objects have made them quite popular in folk art circles, of which stoneware may make up only a small percentage. Examples can be found in notable collections across the country, including the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum in Williamsburg, VA, and the American Folk Art Museum in Manhattan. Similar to Shenandoah pottery, Moravian redware, and Pennsylvania-German sgraffitoware, Anna pottery has managed to cross the boundary of limited, regional interest.

Finally, Anna pottery makes a statement and a lasting impression on us. It will turn heads and draw attention even from people who have little interest in antiques or ceramics. When I’ve told my late 20′s friends (who know nothing about antiques) about selling an Anna pig bottle with a hole in its rear, it initiates some sort of response, a chuckle or look of disgust, and suddenly they’re interested. (I can also remember a New England folk art dealer’s look of surprise when he saw the underside of an Anna shoo fly jug a few years back during our auction preview.) It is a testament to the ingenuity of the Kirkpatrick brothers that their cleverly-crafted pieces still elicit a response in us over a hundred years later. And it is the pieces that make the biggest impression on us that we remember the best, love the best, and are truly worth collecting.

Stoneware signed with the mark of Washington, DC pottery owner Richard Butt is very sought after, and has been for as long as I can remember. It certainly appeals to collectors of stoneware made in nearby Alexandria, Virginia (once itself a part of the District of Columbia)–but as the most well-known, and some of the most aesthetically-pleasing, stoneware produced in our nation’s capital, products of Butt’s manufactory also draw interest from a wide variety of stoneware collectors who ordinarily focus their collections elsewhere.

Not much is known about the unfortunately named Richard Butt. Even less was known until two years ago when a unique piece of stoneware surfaced and was sold in our May 2007 auction. The email we received about the jar mentioned a hard-to-decipher maker’s mark that began with “R. BUTT” and ended in “Md.” We assumed the consignor had misread Butt’s “R. BUTT / W. City, D.C.” mark, but were shocked when the photos revealed a completely unknown and very exciting stamp: “R.  BUTT / Monty Co. Md.”

The discovery of a piece of Richard Butt stoneware with a Montgomery County, Maryland, maker’s mark revealed some important clues about this barely-documented pottery owner. Together with scant Washington, DC city directory and census listings, the following skeletal synopsis of Butt’s pottery career can be drawn.

Butt probably opened his Montgomery County pottery in the late 1820′s. The single extant jar from this manufactory appears to have been made about that time, and by the early 1830′s Butt had moved on to the District of Columbia. The first firm date for the existence of Richard Butt’s Washington, DC pottery is 1834, when he appears in the Washington city directory, as follows:

Butt R. Stone and Earthen ware manufactory, w side 8 w, btw H and I n–Intendent (sic) of Washington Asylum

(Note that no city directories exist for the years 1831-33, making an exact starting year for Butt’s pottery problematic.)

Butt’s status as intendant (administrator) of Washington Asylum–an almshouse and penitentiary–led some to speculate that the inmates assisted in making the ware at his shop, but this seems like loose conjecture, at best. Some of the indigent may have been employed by Butt as menial laborers, but no large-scale, systematic employment of residents of Washington Asylum is likely.

One thing that we can be reasonably certain of is that Richard Butt was not a potter. The inconsistency in style and quality of the vessels, different maker’s marks, and Butt’s status as a DC bureaucrat all point to a situation most often seen in American merchant shops of the time period–Butt was an entrepreneur, and he owned his pottery while others made the ware for him.

We have been able to identify two primary marks on Butt’s DC ware. The most common (though still quite rare) mark is, “R. BUTT / W. City, D.C.” Slightly more difficult to find is the cruder “R. BUTT / W.” The W. City mark looks like a finished, proper maker’s mark made out of metal letters permanently affixed to a wooden or metal handle or slug. In general, most pieces stamped with one mark or the other carry stylistic similarities between examples.

I believe the W vessels were made before the W. City ones. While the cruder stamp does not necessarily date them to an earlier period, their decorations resemble very much those seen on Alexandria stoneware made in the early 1830′s. The same can be said of stoneware manufactured by the very mysterious Washington, DC potter John Walker, whose mark appears on about a dozen extant pieces. Walker apparently did pot for Butt for at least a brief period; he appears in the 1834 Washington city directory as a potter working near 8th and I Streets NW.

While the specific decorations seen on the W pieces are various, by the time the W. City mark was in use, probably by the late 1830′s, the cobalt designs seen on Butt’s stoneware had assumed a more standard decoration that has come to be associated with his pottery’s work–a “wing-and-flower” motif invented in Baltimore in the 1820′s. DC area stoneware potters used derivative versions of this Baltimore design very frequently, as did many other Virginia and Pennsylvania potters. But as a pottery that probably employed several different master potters over its lifetime, deviations from the norm most certainly occur. For instance, the decoration on a beautiful jar with the W. City mark, sold in our October 2004 auction, looks nothing like that seen on the bulk of R. Butt pottery.

A slip-trailed stoneware jar that sold in our July 2008 auction is inscribed in cobalt beneath each handle, “R. Butt.” Discovered about four years ago in the Hagerstown, MD area coated in gold paint, this remarkable piece is the only known piece of Richard Butt stoneware signed in this way, or any way other than a maker’s stamp. Its discovery raises several questions: Where and when was it made? Was it made in Montgomery County? If so, does the absence of a maker’s mark indicate that it was made around the very beginning of Butt’s career as a pottery owner? Was it made in DC? Who made the jar, and why was slip-trailing used instead of the normal brushed decoration? I, of course, do not know the answer to any of these questions, but my feeling is that it was made either shortly after Butt opened his Montgomery County pottery or his Washington, DC pottery.

To be exhaustive, I believe we have seen a stoneware jar impressed with the misspelled “R. BTT / W” at some point, but do not have documentation or photographs. I believe that jar was made around or during the same time period as the W pieces.

Sometime circa 1845, Enoch Burnett, a Baltimore potter who had spent time in Philadelphia–had, in fact, helped found the prolific Philadelphia Remmey pottery with Henry Remmey, Jr. in the late 1820′s–came to Washington and took over Butt’s pottery. I don’t know for sure how Burnett assumed ownership of the pottery, and whether or not Butt still owned it when he did so. Burnett would go on to operate the pottery for a few decades.

Given the historical evidence, I would date Richard Butt’s prolific Washington, DC pottery to a 15-year time frame–circa 1830-45. My hope is that this brief sketch helps to better explain a body of work that is essentially completely undocumented, and that I have put the R. Butt marks into their appropriate context. I have been researching Washington, DC stoneware off and on for about eight years now and hope, ultimately, to properly document all of the stoneware potters of our nation’s capital and give them the notoriety they deserve.

One of our goals as we run Crocker Farm, Inc. has always been to use credible, incisive research–often done in period, primary sources–to help illuminate the objects we sell. Antique American stoneware and redware have, both in the past and now, been saddled with misinformation, loose conjecture passed off as fact, incorrect attributions, and information gaps that should be filled in. We try to combat these problems as much as possible.

But besides our auction catalogs, conversations with our customers, brief entries on our website, and scattered articles in periodicals, a good, easily-accessible, centralized forum to disseminate information on antique American utilitarian ceramics simply does not exist. We hope this new addition to CrockerFarm.com changes that.

We named our new blog, Fahrenheit 2300, after the common, approximate firing temperature of salt-glazed stoneware. We feel the name conjures images of looking into a kiln as the staggering heat turns mud dug out of the earth into stone, and conveys a sense of excitement we feel whenever we see an important piece of pottery for the first time, or dig up some new information on a potter.

We plan to make this an active, frequently-updated platform for everything from brief, one-paragraph comments to in-depth articles on antique American stoneware and redware. We also think it will give us the opportunity to expand on specific pieces outside the confines of proper catalog descriptions. Above all, we hope it will be a fun way to fill a void for much-needed scholarship on one of America’s most important handicrafts.

We are launching the blog with a couple of posts already up for you to read, with more to follow soon. We hope you enjoy it.