The China Painter Instruction Book — Reading Notes

The Rotary Motion of Mixing

The opening instructions for grinding colors establish a deliberate, almost ritualistic pace. Balluff directs the reader to work powder color and mixing medium together on a slab “with a rotary motion,” keeping the palette knife as flat as possible to avoid breakage. This physical detail—the circular sweep of the knife—is the first of many recurring gestures in the book. The emphasis on thoroughness (“see well to it that no particles are left”) sets a standard that reappears in later sections on padding lustres and burnishing gold. The rotary motion is not merely a technique; it becomes a motif for the patience required at every stage.

The Dabber and the Pad: Tools of Evenness

Balluff repeatedly returns to the tools used to apply and smooth color: the dabber, the pad, the silk-wrapped cotton wad. In the section on lustres, he insists that the dabber be prepared before the color is applied, because “lustres dry quickly and therefore should be padded without delay.” The same concern for evenness appears in the tinting instructions, where a pad of cotton enclosed in silk is recommended. The recurrence of these tools—and the warnings about lint, dust, and dampness—creates a tactile vocabulary. The reader is constantly reminded that the hand must move swiftly and evenly, and that the surface of the china is unforgiving.

Firing as a Recurring Threshold

Firing is the hidden pivot of the manual. Balluff mentions it not in a single dedicated chapter but as a recurring condition: lustres must be fired after each application, underfired colors require glazing, and chipping is a risk if the heat is too strong. The kiln is a constant presence, invoked whenever the decorator must decide whether to apply another wash or correct a defect. Balluff’s advice to “fire for each application of the lustre” and to “place the piece in the kiln in such a way that no dust can fall on it” shows that firing is not a final step but an integral part of the sequence, shaping every earlier decision.

Correction and the Erased Design

One of the most striking recurring ideas is the permission to erase and repaint. Balluff writes, “Never hesitate to erase the design and repaint the china, in case it is not entirely satisfactory.” This appears early in the mixing section and is echoed later in the advice on lustre: if the color fires too light or spotty, apply another wash. The manual thus builds a structure of second chances, where failure is anticipated and remedied. The design drawn with wax pencil or India ink will disappear in firing anyway, so the decorator is free to revise. This attitude transforms the craft from a linear process into a cycle of testing and adjustment.

Balluff’s manual is best read not as a sequence of recipes but as a set of interlocking precautions. The reader who notices how often the same warnings recur—about dust, about drying time, about the order of applications—will gain a deeper sense of the material constraints that shaped china painting in 1914. The book rewards a slow, attentive reading, much as the craft itself rewards patience.

Reading Balluff's careful warnings about the delicate balance of firing temperatures, I felt that same quiet patience Phil May must have had, watching a line find its life on paper. His sketches breathe with the same unhurried precision, each mark waiting for its moment. There's a kinship between the kiln's glow and that ink. Pictures by Phil May — Background and Themes holds that gentle certainty.