#frits for tiles

[ipnrendura]

Enhance Your Tile Installation with the Perfect Frits

Frists come in a wide range of colors, sizes and compositions, allowing you to unleash your creativity and personalize your tile design. Check IPNR Endura for cerami glaze frits.

[ceramicindia-tiles-manufacturers]

Ceramic Raw Material for tiles and sanitarywares, Ceramic India

Ceramic Raw Material for tiles and sanitarywares, Ceramic India

Mouldtech Industries

Ceramic Raw Material, Ceramic Machinery Spare & Parts, Raw Material & Chemicals, Ceramic Roller & Grinding Media, China Clay, Digital Ink, Ceramic Color, Frit & Zinc Oxide, Refractories, Feldspar (Soda & Potash), Quartz, ceramic india

[techandinvcom]

The History of Ceramics

Ceramics have played a key role in architecture throughout the world. They are used in various applications, including tiles, bricks, pots, and pipes. They are also used for creating refrigerator magnets. They are very durable and are often used in industrial facilities. In addition, they can be resistant to stains and wear, making them ideal for high-traffic areas. They are also very affordable.

In the past, ceramics were associated with coldness, however, technological advancements have led to a more diverse definition of the material. Today, it can be found in a variety of colors, finishes, and styles. It can also be used to imitate fabrics, leather, wood, and more. Whether you choose a natural stone look, a classic pattern, or a contemporary design, ceramics can add a sense of style and sophistication to your home.

The earliest examples of ceramics date back to the 17th century. These tiles were used to cover the walls of buildings. They could be in the form of free-form pieces, or they could be cut into small, rectangular shapes. The Timurid Empire of Persia used the moraq technique, which consisted of plaster between tiles to create panels for wall coverings. The technique was also used to cover the interior surfaces of domes. The color schemes used in these tiles ranged from purplish dark brown to dark blue.

The minai technique was introduced in Iran in the 12th-13th centuries, and was used for producing miniature-sized tiles. This technique uses a layer of colored slip or glaze, which is applied over a secondary glaze to achieve a wider palette of colors. It was used for decorative wares in the early Ottoman period.

The سيراميك industry in Kutahya had suffered a significant downturn in the first half of the 19th century, but it slowly began to recover. Tiles from this period were decorated on late-Ottoman buildings and in private collections in Turkey. This period was characterized by the use of blue-and-white wares. The tile on the tomb of Sultan Mehmed Resad V in Eyup is an example. It was made by Hafiz Emin Usta, a Kutahya potter.

While the tiles of the late Ottoman period were based on the traditional techniques of the Seljuks, they also began to use the cuerda seca technique, which involves carving a design into the surface. This prevents the glazes from running into one another. In addition, the technique was less expensive than lead-glaze ware, and allowed the potter to paint directly on the frit body.

The tiles of the Emirate-period, on the other hand, are generally a continuation of the Seljuk techniques. They were used for decorating domestic houses, churches, and other buildings. These wares were also decorated with sgraffito and slip-decorated techniques. These types of wares continued the folk art and tastes of the Seljuks.

The demand for these tiles has increased over the years due to the rise of residential and commercial buildings. Increasing industrialization has led to a booming construction industry. The growth of this industry is expected to continue in the coming years.

[tomrogers-viscom]

ISTD - City Branding Research

City of Melbourne by Landor

Melbourne was rebranded by design acegy Landor. The 'M' logo replaces the old leaf logo for the city, which had previously been used for the past 15 years.

I AMsterdam by Frits Huffnagel

Frits Huffanagel released the I AMsterdam campaign in 2004. The branding aimed to create a new motto for the city and its people.

Newington Estate by Lantern

In 2011 the Newington Estate in Ramsgate was identifies as one of the countries least funded areas. Lantern, a London based agency, aimed to change perceptions, and worked with residents and local people directly to create powerful branding for the estate.

City of Manchester by Peter Saville

Manchester City Council launched the new branding for the City designed by Creative Director Peter Saville. The launch event was at the 2006 Labour Party Annual Conference.

Porto, Portugal by Studio Eduardo Aires.

As stated on the website "The iconic system is inspired in the blue tiles that cover so many historical buildings in the City. Stories are told in those "azulejos". We created a system of icons that every person living (in) Porto could be and feel represented with. New icons can be added to the system and old ones can stop being used. We wanted the image to be just the perfect mirror of what the city is."

A1, LO1

[sneutralss]

Alumina from Feldspar enhances the durability

　　Which Industries Benefit from Using Feldspar Powder? As Feldspar makes up around 60% of all terrestrial rocks, it is the most prevalent mineral in the earth;s crust. The majority of deposits also contain mixed Feldspars, potassium Feldspar, as well as sodium Feldspar. Feldspar Powder Manufacturers IndiaFeldspar Powder Due to their high alumina and alkali contents, Feldspars are predominantly utilized for industrial uses. The name "Feldspar" refers to a wide variety of substances. Most of the items used regularly are composed of Feldspar, including the glass you use for shower stalls, drinking, insulation, protection, bathroom floor tiles, and dinnerware.

In addition to serving as filler and an extender in plastics, paint, and rubber, Feldspar is a frequent raw material utilized in the manufacture of glass and ceramics exported by Feldspar Powder Manufacturers India. Alumina from Feldspar enhances the durability, hardness, and chemical resistance to corrosion of glass products. There are two types: Sodium Feldspar Potassium Feldspar Which sectors employ Feldspar? Fundamentally, Feldspars; alumina and alkali contents make them suitable for downstream industries. Three families can be identified based on those components: feldspathic sand, pegmatite, and Feldspar. Based on the kind of alkali they comprise, further differentiation could be made between potassium, sodium, and mixed Feldspars. The following sectors employ Feldspar: Feldspars are employed as functional fillers in the paint, rubber, plastic, China wholesale Neutral Colloidal Silica and adhesive industries and as crucial fluxing agents in glass and ceramic applications.

 After clay, Potassium Feldspar mineral is the second-most crucial component. Due to its progressive melting across a wide temperature range, Feldspar lacks a defined melting point. It makes it much easier for quartz and clays to melt while also enabling modulations of this crucial stage of ceramic production through the proper mixing. Utilized in glazes as a source of alumina, alkalies, and fluxing agents to create a glassy phase at lower temperatures. Feldspars are utilized in glazes as a source of alkalies, alumina, and fluxing agents to create a glassy phase at lower temperatures. By melting, softening, and wetting various batch constituents, they increase the ceramic body;s strength, hardness, and longevity and cement the crystalline phase of many other ingredients.

Feldspar serves as a fluxing agent, lowering the melting point of quartz and assisting in regulating glass viscosity. It is a crucial component in the production of glass and a crucial raw material. Feldspar;s alkali concentration functions as a flux by lowering the melting temperature for glass batches, which lowers production costs. In products like enamel frits, electrical porcelain, ceramic glazes, sanitaryware, ceramic tile glazes, tableware, and giftware, Feldspar aids in the formulation of the enamel, guaranteeing that there are no faults and that the completed product is neat. The welding of rod coating, latex foam, paint, mild abrasives, urethane, welding electrodes (for manufacturing steel), and road aggregate are just a few more examples of end uses.

 Feldspar is the primary component in the body composition used in the flooring industry. It serves as a flux, decreasing a ceramic body;s vitrifying temperature during a fire and creating a glassy phase. The residual solid particles are drawn together by surface tension, densifying the ceramic body. The alkalis grow more active as the temperature rises and first disintegrate the clay particles, and so likewise free silica. It is also utilized as an extender and filler in products like plastic, paint, and rubber. Good dispersibility, strong chemical inertness, constant pH, low viscosity at high filler loading, great resistance to abrasion, an intriguing refractive index, plus resistance to icing are all good Feldspar qualities. Products are typically fine-milled grades in these applications. It provides a good fusibility for a defect-free product in dinnerware. Feldspar is employed to speed up the optimization technique in vitreous ceramic bodies found in sanitaryware.

 How can you obtain Feldspar for your market? Potassium, sodium, and silica are the main ingredients in Feldspar. This mineral is highly tough. It is available in a variety of hues. The Manufacturers provide high-quality Feldspar. The most common mineral in nature that forms rocks is Feldspar, composed of aluminum silicates with sodium, potassium, and calcium or a combination of these. It comes in various hues, including pink, brown, and grey. The manufacturer;s selection of Feldspar powder is fairly priced. Feldspar Powder Manufacturers India produce, retail, supply, and export Feldspar powder to all corners of the globe. The powder is between 80 and 90 percent white. It exists in its original form as powder. To maintain consistency in quality, every gram of the powder is quality-tested. It is therefore guaranteed our quality and purity. It is typically marketed after being groundto a specific mesh size and air/water content.

Some businesses sell it that has been pulverized, specifically for the glass sector, and other businesses use Feldspar as a binder material in the production of abrasives. Conclusion Feldspar Powder is hence used in several sectors of the market. In ceramics, it acts as a flux and provides the vitreous luster of chinaware and ceramic tiles. It is used in glazes and enamels and is an important mineral filler in paints, plastics, sealants, and adhesives. Leading Feldspar Powder Manufacturers India provide high-quality, effective, pure. They are affordable and trustworthy for their high-quality Feldspar powder and their operations.

[marketingnews1212]

Zirconium Market - Industry Analysis, Market Size, Share, Trends, Application Analysis, Growth And Forecast 2022-2027

The zirconium market size is forecast to reach US$2.7 billion by 2027 after growing at a CAGR of 8.1% during 2022-2027. Zirconium is a silver-grey transition metal that usually occurs naturally in mineral baddeleyite, also known as zirconia or derived chemically from zircon. It exhibits excellent properties such as high ductility, robust thermal and corrosion resistance, chemical inertness, and the ability to create stable compounds. Such Perse properties make zirconium an ideal material for use in several industrial applications that include ceramic, chemical processing, nuclear power, piezoelectric crystals, zirconium alloys, and many more. The ceramics industry is one of the largest consumers of zirconium where this metal is used extensively in the production of glazes, ceramic bodies, tiles, frits, enamels, etc. The ceramic industry is booming with increasing demand for ceramics and this is expected to drive the market’s growth during the forecast period. For instance, as per the data by The Council of North America (TCNA), consumption of ceramic tile increased 15.3% by volume in the third quarter of 2021 compared to the same period in 2020.

[gaypapercuts]

[ID:  A photo of a small glass-blown vase. Near the top and bottom, the vase has wisps of color, white-grey to a tan brown. In the middle, solid lines of color (blue, orange, black, white) swirl together. End ID] A piece I made last week! The splotches of color are from frit that changes color based on the heat during the process while the solid color was added in the form of broken glass tiles. 

[reportinsightsblogs]

Industry analysis provides a company with an understanding of its position relative to other companies in the industry. This can help them identify opportunities and potential threats, so they can prepare for the present and future. MRI Research helps organizations to figure out whats happening in a given industry, including demand and supply statistics, degree of competition, state of competition with other emerging industries, future prospects considering technological changes, and external factors on the industry.

[scottelkartwork]

IN THE STUDIO

CERAMICS

Glazing

Ok so I’ve gone for the sing option. That’s not black, it’s a shiny gold, and those handles won’t all stay raw clay. Here is a little low fire glaze test tile to see what the stains do with the low fire clear, and how the raw stoneware clay will look at those temps.

Looking at the fired piece, lots of information, but not really interested in any of these finishes. I did do black in this tile, not the gold. I need to add more clear to the stains to be less dry, and shiny. I’m not too excited by the raw clay colour, definitely wish I could take it up to 1280 and get that unusual dark metallic brown. Maybe the reds and yellows will be fine a little weaker as the clear is awesome. Maybe I need to do one more test tile actually using the gold with some of these colours. It might also be worth trying to line blend my ash glaze down with a frit. I kind of also want to do Tenmoku under talc white. Might also be worth trying the yellow underglaze with cobalt carbonate powder. This tile is basic, it disappoints me.

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 11 paragraph xiii

The painting was wrapped and tied, and Boris had tucked it under his arm and—taking a last draw on his cigarette—had stepped around to the driver’s side and was about to get in the car when, behind us, a casual and friendly-sounding American voice said, “Merry Christmas.” I turned. There were three of them, two lazy-walking middle-aged men drifting along a bit bemusedly with the air of having come to do us a favor—it was Boris they were addressing, not me, they seemed glad to see him—and, skittering slightly in front of them, the Asian boy. His white coat was not a kitchen worker’s coat at all but some asymmetrical thing made out of white wool about an inch thick; and he was shivering and practically blue-lipped with fright. He was unarmed, or seemed to be, which was good, because what I mainly noticed about the other two—big guys, all business—was blued handgun metal glinting in the sleazy fluorescents. Even then, I didn’t get it— the friendly voice had thrown me; I thought they’d caught the boy and were bringing him to us—until I looked over at Boris and saw how still he’d gone, chalk-white. “Sorry to do this to you,” said the American to Boris, though he didn’t sound sorry—if anything, pleased. He was broadshouldered and bored-looking, in a soft gray coat, and despite his age there was something petulant and cherubic about him, overly ripe, soft white hands and a soft managerial blandness. Boris—cigarette in mouth—stood frozen. “Martin.” “Yeah, hey!” said Martin genially, as the other guy—gray blond thug in a pea coat, coarse features out of Nordic folklore—ambled straight up to Boris, and, after grappling around at Boris’s waistband, took his gun and passed it over to Martin. In my confusion I looked at the boy in the white coat but it was like he’d been struck on the head with a hammer, he didn’t seem any more amused or edified by any of this than I was. “I know this sucks for you,” said Martin—“but. Wow.” The low key voice was a shocking contrast to the eyes, which were like a puff adder’s. “Hey. Sucks for me too. Frits and I were at Pim’s, we weren’t expecting to get out. Nasty weather, eh? Where’s our white Christmas?” “What are you doing here?” said Boris, who despite his overly still air was as afraid as I’d ever seen him. “What do you think?” Jocular shrug. “I’m surprised as you, if it makes any difference. Never would have thought Sascha had the balls to call in Horst on this. But—hey, fuck-up like this, who else could he call, I guess? Let’s have it,” he said, with an affable tick of the gun, and with a rush of horror I realized he was pointing the gun at Boris, gesturing with the gun at the felt-wrapped package in Boris’s hands. “Come on. Give it over.” “No,” said Boris sharply, shaking the hair from his eyes. Martin blinked, with a sort of befuddled whimsy. “What’s that you say?” “No.” “What?” Martin laughed. “No? Are you kidding me?” “Boris! Give it to them!” I stammered, as I stood frozen in horror, as the one named Frits put his pistol to Boris’s temple and then caught Boris by the hair and pulled his head back so sharply he groaned. “I know,” said Martin amicably, with a collegial glance at me, as if to say: hey, these Russians—nuts, am I right? “Come on,” he said to Boris. “Let’s have it.” Again Boris moaned, as the guy yanked his hair once more, and from across the car threw me an unmistakeable look—which I understood just as plainly as if he’d spoken the words aloud, an urgent and very specific cut of the eyes straight from our shoplifting days: run for it, Potter, go. “Boris,” I said, after a disbelieving pause, “please, just give it to them,” but Boris only moaned again, despairingly, as Frits jammed the gun hard under his chin and Martin stepped forward to take the painting from him. “Excellent. Thanks for that,” he said bemusedly, tucking his gun under his arm and beginning to pluck and fumble with the string, which Boris had tied in an obstinate little knot. “Cool.” His fingers weren’t working very well, and up close, when he’d reached to take the painting, I’d seen why: he was high as a kite.

“Anyway—” Martin glanced behind him, as if wanting to include absent friends on the joke, then back with another bemused shrug—“sorry. Take them over there, Frits,” he said, still busy with the painting, nodding at a shadowy, dungeon-like corner of the garage, darker than the rest, and when Frits turned partly from Boris to gesture at me with the gun—come on, come on, you too—I realized, cold with horror, what Boris had known was going to happen from the moment he saw them: why he’d wanted me to run for it, or at least to try. But in the half-moment as Frits was motioning to me with the gun, we’d all lost track of Boris, whose cigarette flew out in a shower of sparks. Frits screamed and slapped his cheek, then stumbled back grappling at his collar where it had lodged against his neck. In the same instant Martin—distracted with the painting, directly across from me—looked up, and I was still looking at him blankly across the roof of the car when I heard it, to my right, three fast cracks which made us both turn quickly to the side. With the fourth (flinching, eyes closed) a warm spray of blood thumped across the car roof and struck me in the face and when I opened my eyes again the Asian kid was stepping back horrified and drawing a hand down his front in a bloody smear like a butcher’s apron and I was staring at a lighted sign Beetaalautomaat op where Boris’s head had been; blood was pouring from under the car and Boris was on the ground on his elbows, feet going, he was trying to scramble up from the floor, I couldn’t tell if he was hurt or not and I must have run around to him without thinking because the next thing I knew I was on the other side of the car and trying to help him up, blood everywhere, Frits was a mess, slumped against the car with a baseball-sized hole in the side of his head, and I’d just noticed Frits’s gun lying on the ground when I heard Boris exclaim sharply and there was Martin, tight-eyed with blood on his sleeve, hand clamped to his arm and fumbling to bring up his gun. It had happened before it even happened, like a skip in a DVD throwing me forward in time, because I have no memory at all of picking the pistol off the floor, only of a kick so hard it threw my arm in the air, I didn’t really hear the bang until I felt the kick and the casing flew back and hit me in the face and I shot again, eyes half-closed against the noise and my arm jolting with every shot, the trigger had a resistance to it, a stiffness, like pulling some tooheavy door latch, car windows popping and Martin with an arm coming up, exploding safety glass and chunks of concrete flying out a pillar and I’d got Martin in the shoulder, the soft gray cloth was drenched and dark, a spreading dark stain, cordite smell and deafening echo that drove me so deep inside my skull that it was less like actual sound striking my eardrums than a wall slamming down hard in my mind and driving me back into some hard internal blackness from childhood, and Martin’s viper eyes met mine and he was slumped forward with the gun propped on the roof of the car when I shot again and hit him above the eye, red burst that made me flinch and then, somewhere behind me, I heard the sound of running feet slapping on concrete —the boy, white coat running to the exit ramp with the painting under his arm, he was running up the ramp to the street, echoes reverberating in the tiled space and I almost shot at him only somehow it was a completely different moment and I was facing away from the car, I was doubled over with my hands on my knees and the gun was on the ground, I had no memory of dropping it although the sound was there, it was clattering to the floor and it kept on clattering and I was still hearing the echoes and feeling the vibration of the gun up my arm, retching and doubled over, with Frits’s blood crawling and curling on my tongue.

Out of the darkness the sound of feet running, and again I could not see, or move, everything black at the edges and I was falling even though I wasn’t because somehow I was sitting on a low stretch of tiled wall with my head between my knees looking down at clear red spit, or vomit, on the shiny, epoxy-painted concrete between my shoes and Boris, there was Boris, winded and breathless and bloody, running back in, his voice was coming from a million miles off, Potter, are you all right? he’s gone, I couldn’t catch him, he got away. I drew my palm down my face and looked at the red smear on my hand. Boris was still talking to me with some urgency but even though he was shaking my shoulder it was mostly mouth movements and nonsense through soundproof glass. The smoke from the fired gun was oddly the same bracing ammonia smell of Manhattan thunderstorms and wet city pavements. Robin’s egg speckles on the door of a pale blue Mini. Nearer, creeping dark from under Boris’s car, a glossy satin pool three feet wide was spreading and inching forward like an amoeba, and I wondered how long before it reached my shoe and what I would do when it did. Hard, but without anger, Boris cuffed me with his closed fist on the side of the head: an impersonal clout, no heat about it at all. It was as if he were performing CPR. “Come on,” he said. “Your specs,” he said with a short nod. My glasses—blood-smeared, unbroken—lay on the ground by my foot. I didn’t remember them falling off. Boris picked them up himself, wiped them on his own sleeve, and handed them to me. “Come on,” he said, catching my arm, pulling me up. His voice was level and soothing although he was splattered with blood and I could feel his hands shaking. “All over now. You saved us.” The gunshot had set off my tinnitus like a swarm of locusts buzzing in my ears. “You did good. Now—over here. Hurry.” He led me behind the glassed-in office, which was locked and dark. My camel’s-hair coat had blood on it, and Boris took it off me like an attendant at a coat check, and turned it inside out and draped it over a concrete post. “You will have to get rid of this thing,” he said, with a violent shudder. “Shirt too. Not now—later. Now—” opening a door, crowding in behind me, flipping on a light—“come on.” Dank bathroom, stinking of urinal cakes and urine. No sink, only a bare water spigot and a drain in the floor. “Quick, quick,” said Boris, turning the faucet full pressure. “Not perfection. Just—yeow!” grimacing as he stuck his head under the spout, splashing his face, scrubbing it palm down— “Your arm,” I found myself saying. He was holding it wrong. “Yes yes—” cold water flying everywhere, coming up for air—“he winged me, not bad, only a nick—oh God—” spitting and spluttering—“I should have listened to you. You tried to say! Boris, you said, someone back there! In the kitchen! But did I listen to you? Pay attention? No. That little fucker—the Chinese kid—that was Sascha’s boyfriend! Woo, Goo, I cannot remember his name. Aah—” sticking his head under the faucet again, burbling for a moment as the water streamed over his face—“—bloo! you saved us Potter, I thought we were dead.…”

Standing back, he scrubbed his hands over his face, bright red and dripping. “Okay,” he said, wiping the water out of his eyes, slinging it away, then steering me to the pounding faucet, “now, you. Head under—yes yes, cold!” Pushing me under when I flinched. “Sorry! I know! Hands, face—” Water like ice, choking, it was going up my nose, I’d never felt anything so cold but it brought me around a bit. “Quick, quick,” said Boris, hauling me up. “Suit—dark—doesn’t show. Nothing we can do about the shirt, collar up, here, let me do it. Scarf is in the car, yes? You can wind it around your neck? No no—forget it—” I was shivering, grabbing for my coat, teeth ringing with cold, my whole upper body was soaked through—“well, go ahead, you’ll freeze, just keep it turned to lining side out.” “Your arm.” Though his coat was dark and the light was bad I saw the burnt skid at his bicep, black wool sticky with blood. “Forget it. Is nothing. My God, Potter—” starting back to the car—half running, me hurrying to keep up, panicked at the thought of losing him, of being left. “Martin! That bastard is a bad diabetic, I have been hoping he would die for years. Grateful Dead, I owe you too!” he said, tucking the snub nose in his pocket, then—from the handkerchief pocket of his suit—drawing a bag of white powder which he opened and tossed down in a spray. “There,” he said, dusting his hands off with a lurching back step; he was ash white, his pupils were fixed and even when he looked up at me, he seemed not to see me. “That is all they will be looking for. Martin will be carrying too, all junked up, did you notice? That was why he was so slow— him and Frits too. They were not expecting that call—not expecting to go to work tonight. God—” squeezing his eyes shut—“we were lucky.” Sweaty, dead pale, wiping his forehead. “Martin knows me, he knows what I carry, he was not expecting me to have that other gun and you—they were not thinking of you at all. Get in the car,” he said. “No no—” catching my arm; I was following him to the driver’s side like a sleepwalker—“not there, it’s a mess. Oh—” stopping, cold, an eternity passing in the flickering greenish light— before wobbling around for his own gun on the floor, which he wiped clean with a cloth from his pocket and—holding it carefully, between the cloth— dropped on the ground. “Whew,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “That will confuse them. They will be trying to trace that thing for years.” He stopped, holding his nicked arm with one hand: he looked me up and down. “Can you drive?” I couldn’t answer. Glazed, dizzy, trembling. My heart, after the collision and freeze of the moment, had begun to pound with hard, sharp, painful blows like a fist striking in the center of my chest. Quickly, Boris shook his head, made a tch tch sound. “Other side,” he said, when I, feet moving of their own accord, followed him again. “No no—” leading me back around, opening the front passenger door and giving me a little shove. Drenched. Shivering. Nauseated. On the floor: pack of Stimorol gum. Road map: Frankfurt Offenbach Hanau. Boris had circled around to the car, checking it out. Then, gingerly, he came back to the driver’s side—weaving a bit; trying not to step in blood— and sat behind the wheel and held it with both hands and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, on a long exhale, talking to himself like a pilot about to take off on a mission. “Buckle up. You too. Brake lights working? Tail lights?” Patting his pockets, sliding up the seat, turning the heater up to High. “Plenty of gas—good. Heated seats too—will warm us up. We can’t be stopped,” he explained. “Because I cannot drive.” All sorts of tiny noises: creak of seat leather, water ticking from my wet sleeve. “Can’t drive?” I said, in the intense ringing silence. “Well, I can.” Defensively. “I have. I—” starting up the car, backing out with his arm along the seat—“well, why do you think I have a driver? Am I this fancy? No. I do have—” upheld forefinger—“drunk-driving conviction.” I closed my eyes to keep from seeing the slumped bloody mass as we

drove past it. “So, you see, if they stop me they will run me in and this is what we do not want to happen.” I could barely hear what he was saying over the fierce buzzing in my head. “You will have to help me out. Like—watch for street signs and keep me from driving in bus lanes. The cycle paths are red here, you are not supposed to drive on them either so help me watch for those too.”

On the Overtoom again, heading back into Amsterdam: Locksmith Sleutelkluis, Vacatures, Digitaal Printen, Haji Telecom, Onbeperkt Genieten, Arabic letters, lights streaking, it was like a nightmare, I was never going to get off this fucking road. “God, I better slow down,” said Boris somberly. He looked glassy and wrecked. “Trajectcontrole. Help me watch for signs.” Blood smear on my cuff. Big fat drops. “Trajectcontrole. That means some machine tells the police you are speeding. They drive unmarked cars, a lot of them, and sometimes they will follow a while before they stop you although—we are lucky—not much traffic out this way tonight. Weekend, I guess, and holiday. This is not exactly Happy Christmas neighborhood out here if you get me. You understand what just happened, don’t you?” said Boris, heaving for breath and scrubbing his nose hard with a gasping sound. “No.” Somebody else talking, not me. “Well—Horst. Both those guys were Horst’s. Frits is maybe only person in Amsterdam he knew to call on such short notice but Martin—fuck.” He was speaking very fast and erratically, so fast he could barely get the words out, and his eyes were flat and staring. “Who even knew Martin was in town? You know how Horst and Martin met, don’t you?” he said, half-glancing at me. “Mental home! Fancy California mental home! ‘Hotel California,’ Horst used to call it! That was back when Horst’s family was still talking to him. Horst was in for rehab but Martin was in because he is really, truly nuts. Like, eyestabber kind of nuts. I have seen Martin do things I really do not like to talk about. I—” “Your arm.” It was hurting him; I could see the tears glittering in his eyes. Boris made a face. “Nyah. This is zero. This is nothing. Aah,” he said, lifting his elbow up so I could wrap the phone charger cable around his arm— I’d yanked it out, wrapped it twice above the wound, tied it tight as I could —“smart you. Good precaution. Thanks! Although, no need really. Just a graze—more bruised than anything, I think. Good this coat is so thick! Clean it out—some antibyotic and something for pain—I’ll be fine. I—” deep shuddering breath—“I need to find Gyuri and Cherry. I hope they went straight to Blake’s. Dima—Dima needs a heads-up too, about the mess in there. He will not be happy—there will be cops, big headache—but it will look random. There is nothing to tie him to this.” Headlights sweeping past. Blood pounding in my ears. There weren’t many cars on the road but every one that passed made me flinch. Boris moaned and dragged his palm across his face. He was saying something, very speedy and agitated. “What?” “I said—this is a mess. I am still figuring it out.” Voice staccato and cracked. “Because this is what I am wondering now—maybe I am wrong, maybe I am paranoid—but maybe Horst knew all along? That Sascha took the picture? Only Sascha brought the picture out of Germany and tries to borrow money on it behind Horst’s back. And then when things go wrong—Sascha panics—who else could he call? of course, I am just thinking out loud, maybe Horst didn’t know Sascha took it, maybe he would never have known if Sascha hadn’t been so careless and dumb as to—Goddamn this fucking ring road,” said Boris suddenly. We had gotten off the Overtoom and were circling around. “Which is the direction I want? Turn on the Nav.” “I—” fumbling around, incomprehensible words, menu I couldn’t read, Geheugen, Plaats, turning the dial, different menu, Gevarieerd, Achtergrond. “Oh, hell. We will try this one. God, that was close,” said Boris, taking the turn a little too fast and sloppy. “You have some minerals, Potter. Frits—Frits was out of it, nodding practically, but Martin, my God. Then you—? Coming around so brave? Hurrah! I did not even think of you there. But there you were! Say you never handled a firearm before?” “No.” Wet black streets. “Well, let me tell you something that will maybe sound funny? But—is a compliment. You shoot like a girl. You know why is a compliment? Because,” said Boris, with a giddy, feverish slur in his voice, “in situation of threat,

male who never fired weapon before and female who never fired weapon before? The female—so Bobo used to say—is much more likely to drop her mark. Most men? want to look tough, have seen too much movies, get too impatient and pop their shot off too fast—Shit,” said Boris suddenly, slamming on the brakes. “What?” “We don’t want this.” “Don’t want what?” “This street is closed.” Throwing the car in reverse. Backing down the street. Construction. Fences with bulldozers behind them, empty buildings with blue plastic tarps in the windows. Stacks of piping, cement blocks, graffiti in Dutch.

“What are we going to do?” I said, in the paralyzed silence that followed, after we’d turned down a different street that seemed to have no streetlights at all. “Well—no bridge here that we can cross. And that’s a dead end, so…” “No, I mean what are we going to do.” “About what?” “I—” My teeth were chattering so hard I could barely get the words out. “Boris, we’re fucked.” “No! We are not. Grozdan’s gun—” awkwardly he patted his coat pocket —“I’ll drop it in the canal. They can’t trace it back to me, if they can’t trace it back to him? And—nothing else to tie us. Because my gun? Clean. No serial. Even the car tires are new! I’ll get the car to Gyuri and he’ll change them tonight. Look here,” said Boris, when I didn’t answer, “don’t worry! We are safe! Shall I say it again? S-A-F-E” (spelling it out clumsily on four fingers). Hitting a pothole, I flinched, unconsciously, a startle reaction, hands flying up to my face. “And why, more than anything? Because we are old friends—because we trust each other. And because—oh God, there’s a cop, let me slow down.” Staring at my shoes. Shoes shoes shoes. All I could think, when I’d put them on a few hours before I hadn’t killed anybody. “Because—Potter, Potter, think about this. Listen for one moment please. What if I was a stranger—someone you did not know or trust? If you were driving from garage now with stranger? Then your life would be chained with a stranger’s forever. You would need to be very very careful with this person, long as you live.” Cold hands, cold feet. Snackbar, Supermarkt, spotlit pyramids of fruit and candy, Verkoop Gestart! “Your life—your freedom—resting on a stranger’s loyalty? In that case? Yes. Worry. Absolutely. You would be in very big trouble. But—no one knows of this thing but us. Not even Gyuri!” Unable to speak, I shook my head vigorously at this, trying to catch my breath. “Who? China Boy?” Boris made a disgusted noise. “Who’s he going to tell? He is underage and not here legally. He does not speak any proper language.” “Boris”—leaning forward slightly; I felt like I was going to pass out —“he’s got the painting.” “Ah.” Boris grimaced with pain. “That is gone, I’m afraid.” “What?” “For good, maybe. I am sick over that—sick in my heart. Because, I hate to say it—Woo, Goo, what’s his name? After what he saw—? All he will think about is himself. Scared to death! People dead! Deportation! He does not want to be involved. Forget about the picture. He has no idea of its true value. And if he finds himself in any kind of fix with the cops? Rather than spend one day in jail even? All he will want is to get rid of it. So—” he shrugged woozily—“let’s hope he does get away, the little shit. Otherwise very good chance the ptitsa will end up thrown in canal—burned.” Streetlights glinting off the hoods of parked cars. I felt disincarnate, cut loose from myself. How it would feel to be back in my body again I couldn’t imagine. We were back in the old city, cobblestone rattle, nocturne monochrome straight out of Aert van der Neer with the seventeenth century pressing close on either side and silver coins dancing on black canal water. “Ach, this is closed,” groaned Boris, jerking to a stop again, backing up the car, “we must find another way.” “Do you know where we are?” “Yes—of course,” said Boris, with a sort of scary disconnected cheerfulness. “That’s your canal over there. The Herengracht.” “Which canal?” “Amsterdam is an easy city to get around,” Boris said, as if I hadn’t spoken. “In the old city all you have to do is follow the canals until—Oh, God, they closed this off too.” Tonal gradations. Weirdly enlivened darks. The small ghostly moon above the bell gables was so tiny it looked like the moon of a different planet, hazed and occult, spooky clouds lit with just the barest tinge of blue and brown.

“Don’t worry, this happens all the time. They are always building something here. Big construction messes. All this—I think is for a new subway line or something. Everyone is annoyed by it. Many accusations of fraud, yah yah. Same in every city, no?” His voice was so blurry he sounded drunk. “Roadwork everywhere, politicians getting rich? That is why everyone rides a bike, it is quicker, only, I am sorry, I am not riding a bicycle anywhere one week before Christmas. Oh no—” narrow bridge, dead halt behind a line of cars—“are we moving?” “I—” We were stopped on a pedestrian footbridge. Visible pink drops on the rain-splashed windows. People walking back and forth not a foot away. “Get out of the car and look. Oh, hang on,” he said impatiently before I could pull myself together; throwing the car into Park, getting out himself. I saw his floodlit back in the headlights, formal and staged-looking amidst billows of exhaust. “Van,” he said, throwing himself back in the car. Slamming the door. Taking a deep breath, bracing his arms out straight against the steering wheel. “What is he doing?” Glancing side to side, panicked, half expecting some random pedestrian to notice the bloodstains, rush at the car, bang at the windows, throw open the door. “How should I know? There are too many cars in this fucking city. Look,” said Boris—sweating and pale in the lurid tail lights of the car in front of us; more cars had pulled up behind, we were trapped—“who knows how long we will be here. We are only few blocks from your hotel. Better you should get out and walk.” “I—” Was it the lights of the car in front of us that made the water drops on the windshield look quite so red? He made an impatient flicking movement of the hand. “Potter, just go,” he said. “I don’t know what is going on with this van up here. I’m afraid the traffic police will show up. Better for us both if we are not together just now. Herengracht—you cannot miss it. The canals here run in circles, you know that, don’t you? Just go that way—” he pointed—“you will find it.” “What about your arm?” “It’s nothing! I’d take off my coat to show you except is too much trouble. Now go. I have to talk to Cherry.” Pulling his cell phone from his pocket. “I may have to leave town for a little while—” “What?” “—but if we don’t speak for a bit, don’t worry, I know where you are. Best if you don’t try to call me or get in touch. I’ll be back soon as I can. Everything will be okay. Go—clean up—scarf around the neck, up high—we will speak soon. Don’t look so pale and ill! Do you have anything on you? Do you need something?” “What?” Scrabbling in his pocket. “Here, take this.” Glassine envelope with a smeared stamp. “Not too much, it is very very pure. Size of a match head. No more. And when you wake up, it will not be quite so bad. Now, remember—” dialing his phone; I was very conscious of his heavy breathing—“keep your scarf high up at your neck and walk on the dark side of the street as much as you can. Go!” he shouted when still I sat there, so loudly that I saw a man on the pedestrian walk of the bridge turn to look. “Hurry up! Cherry,” he said, slumping back in his seat in visible relief and beginning to babble hoarsely in Ukrainian as I exited the car—feeling lurid and exposed in the ghastly wash of headlights from the stalled vehicles—and walked back over the bridge, the way we’d come. My last sight of him, he was talking on the phone with the window rolled down and leaning out, in extravagant clouds of auto fume, to see what was going on with the stalled van ahead.

[ipnrendura]

Exploring the Role of Frits in Enhancing the Colour and Texture of Tiles

Dive into the world of tile transformation! Discover how frits play a pivotal role in elevating tile aesthetics. Explore the science behind vibrant colors and captivating textures in tiles. Visit IPNR Endura specialty chemicals and raw material provider.

[ceramicindia-tiles-manufacturers]

Ceramic Raw Material for tiles and sanitarywares, Ceramic India

Ceramic Raw Material for tiles and sanitarywares, Ceramic India

Aircomp Enterprise

Ceramic Raw Material, Ceramic Machinery Spare & Parts, Raw Material & Chemicals, Ceramic Roller & Grinding Media, China Clay, Digital Ink, Ceramic Color, Frit & Zinc Oxide, Refractories, Feldspar (Soda & Potash), Quartz, ceramic india

[heaveninawildflower]

Star tile with camel (Persian, Ilkhanid, early 14th century, probably 1310).

Composite body (quartz, clay, and glass frit), underglaze painted in turquoise and cobalt blue.

Images and text information courtesy MFA Boston.

[christianbaileyceramics]

When you run out of frit 3134 and have an abundance of 3110 and 3124 you hit up the insight. This is why science is important kids. Now I maybe able to get enough 3134 to make up my glaze so I’m testing on pots that I would like to sell. There will be some test tiles going into the kiln to see what these substitutions do at cone 10. #clay #glaze #chemistry #glazechemistry #maybetimetotakeanotherchemistryclass #pottery https://www.instagram.com/p/B8mJxVrAuKY/?igshid=1nlt9o6gjcb4t

[ameryth74]

Louis **** Title Generator Tool

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Two letter words:

There are 107 acceptable 2-letter words listed in the Official Scrabble Players Dictionary, 6th Edition and the Official Tournament and Club Word List:

AA, AB, AD, AE, AG, AH, AI, AL, AM, AN, AR, AS, AT, AW, AX, AY, BA, BE, BI, BO, BY, DA, DE, DO, ED, EF, EH, EL, EM, EN, ER, ES, ET, EW, EX, FA, FE, GI, GO, HA, HE, HI, HO, ID, IF, IN, IS, IT, JO, JU, JY, JZ, KA, KI, KO, LA, LI, LO, MA, ME, MI, MM, MO, MU, MY, NA, NE, NO, NU, OD, OE, OF, OH, OI, OK, OM, ON, OP, OR, OS, OW, OX, PA, PE, PI, PO, QI, RE, SH, SI, SO, TA, TE, TI, TO, UH, UM, UN, UP, US, UT, WE, WO, XI, XU, YA, YE, YO, ZA

Two letter contractions: I’m, I’d

Four letter verbs:

abet, abut, abye/aby, ache, alit, ally, ante, arch, aver, avow (10).

baby,  bach, back, bade, baff, bail, bait, bake, bald, bale, balk, ball, band, bang, bank, bant, barb, bard, bare, barf, bark, base, bash, bask, bate, bath, bauk, bawl, bead, beam, bean, bear,    beat, beck, bede, beef, been, beep, bell, belt, bend, bent, bere, best, bias, bide(archaic usage), biff, bike, bilk, bill, bind, bird, birl, birr, bite, bitt, blab, blat, blaw, bled, blet, blew, blip, blob, blot, blow, blub, blue, blur, boak, boat, bode, body, boff(vulgar usage), boil, boke, bomb, bond, bone, bong, bonk, boob, book, boom, boot, bore, born, boss, boun, bowl, brad, brag, bray, bred, brew, brim, buck, buff, bulk, bull, bump, bung, bunk, bunt, buoy, burl, burn, burp, burr, bury, bush, busk, buss, bust, busy, butt, buzz (117).

ca-ca, cage, cake, calk, call, calm, came, camp, cane, cant, card, care, carp, cart, case, cash, cast, cave, cede, cere, chap, char, chat, chaw, chid, chin, chip, chop, chow, chug, chum, cite, clad, clam, clap, claw, clay, clew, clip, clog, clop, clot, cloy, club, clue, coal, coat, coax, cock, code, coif, coil, coin, coke, comb, come, comp, cone, conk, conn, cook, cool, coop, cope, copy, cord, core, cork, corn, cosh, cost, coup, cove, cowl, crab, cram, crap, crew, crib, crop, crow, cube, cuff, cull, curb, curd, cure, curl, curr, cuss (90).

dado, daff, damn, damp, dang, dare, dark, darn, dart, dash, date, daub, dawn, daze, deal, deck, deed, deem, defy, deke, dele, demo, dent, deny, dial, dice, died, diet, dike, dine, ding, ding, dint, dirk, disc, dish, disk, diss, dive, dock, doff, dole, dome, done, doom, dope, dose, doss, dote, dove, down, doze, drab, drag, draw, dray, dree, drew, drip, drop, drub, drug, drum, duck, duel, duet, dull, dumb, dump, dung, dunk, dupe, dusk, dust, dyke (75).

earn, ease, echo, eddy, edge, edit, emit, envy, espy, etch, even, exit (12).

face, fade, fail, fake, fall, fame, fard, fare, farm, fart, fash, fast, fate, fawn, faze, fear, feed, feel, fell, felt, fend, fess, fete, feud, file, fill, film, find, fine, fink, fire, firm, fish, fist, fizz, flag, flap, flat, flaw, flay, fled, flee, flew, flex, flip, flit, flog, flop, flow, flub, flux, foal, foam, foil, foin, fold, fond, fool, foot, ford, fork, form, foul, fowl, frag, frap, fray, free, fret, frig, frit, fuel, full, fume, fund, funk, furl, fuse, fuss, futz, fuze, fuzz (82).

gaff, gage, gain, gait, gall, game, gang, gaol, gape, garb, gash, gasp, gast(obsolete), gate, gaum(US), gave, gawk, gawp, gaze, gear, geld, gibe, gift, gild, gill, gimp, gird, girt, give, glad(archaic), glom, glow, glue, glug, glut, gnar, gnaw, go by, go on, goad, golf, gone, gong, goof, gore, gown, grab, gray, grew, grey, grid, grin, grip, grit, grow, grub, gulf, gull, gulp, gush, gust, gybe, gyre, gyve (64).

hack, haft, hail, hale, halo, halt, hand, hang, hare, hark, harm, harp, hash, hasp, hast, hate, hath(archaic), haul, have, hawk, haze, head, heal, heap, hear, heat, heed, heel, heft, held, helm, help, hent(obsolete), herd, hewn, hide, hike, hill, hint, hire, hiss, hive, hoax, hock, hoke(slang), hold, hole, home, hone, honk, hood, hoof, hook, hoop, hoot, hope, horn, hose, host, hove, howl, huff, hulk, hull, hump, hung, hunt, hurl, hurt, hush, husk, hymn, hype, hypo (74).

idle, inch, iris, iron, isle, itch (6).

jack, jade, jail, jape, jazz, jeep, jeer, jell, jerk, jest, jibe, jilt, jink, jinx, jive, join, joke, jolt, josh, juke, jump, junk (22).

kayo, keek(Scots), keel, keen, keep, kept, kern, kick, kill, kiln, kilt, kink, kiss, kite, knap, knew, knit, knot, know (19).

lace, lack, laid, lain, lair, lake, lamb, lame, land, lard, lark, lase, lash, last, lath, laud, lave, laze, lazy, lead, leaf, leak, lean, leap, lech, leer, left, lend, lens, lent, levy, lick, lift, like, lilt, limb, lime, limn, limp, line, link, lisp, list, live, load, loaf, loan, lock, loft, loll, long, look, loom, loop, loot, lope, lord, lose, lost, loup(Scots), lour, lout, love, lube, luck, luff, luge, lull, lump, lure, lurk, lust, lute, lyse (74).

mace, made, mail, maim, make, mall, malt, mark, marl, mart, mash, mask, mass, mast, mate, maul, maze, mean, meet, meld, mell, melt, mend, meow, mesh, mess, mete, mewl, miff, milk, mill, mime, mind, mine, mint, mire, miss, mist, moan, moat, mock, moil, mold, molt, moon, moor, moot, mope, moss, move, muck, muff, mull, mump, muse, mush, muss, must, mute (59).

nail, name, near, neck, need, nest, nick, nigh, nill(obsolete), nock, nose, nosh, note, nuke, null, numb (16).

obey, ogle, oink, okay, omen, omit, ooze, open, oust, over (10).

pace, pack, page, pain, pair, pale, pall, palm, pang, pant, pare, park, part, pash(Austral), pass, pave, pawn, peak, peal, peck, peek, peel, peen, peep, peer, pelt, pend, perk, perm, pick, pike, pile, pill, pimp, pine, ping, pink, pipe, piss(vulgar), pith, pity, plan, plat, play, plod, plop, plot, plow, plug, pock, poke, pole, poll, pond, pool, pore, port, pose, post, pour, pout, pray, pree, prep, prey, prim, prod, prog, prop, puff, puke, pule, pull, pulp, pump, punt, purl, purr, push, putt (80).

quad, quip, quit, quiz (4).

race, rack, raft, rage, raid, rail, rain, rake, ramp, rang, rank, rant, rape, rase, rasp, rate, rave, raze, razz, read, ream, reap, rear, reck, redd(dialect), rede(archaic), redo, reed, reef, reek, reel, rein, rely, rend, rent, rest, re-up, rice, rick, ride, riff, rift, rile, rill, rime(archaic)/rhyme, ring, riot, rise, risk, rive, roam, roar, robe, rock, rode, roil, rolf, roll, romp, roof, rook, room, root, rope, rose, rout, rove, ruck, ruff, ruin, rule, rush, rust (73).

sack, said, sail, sale, salt, sand, sass, sate, save, sawn, scab, scam, scan, scar, scat, scud, scum, seal, seam, sear, seat, seed, seek, seel, seem, seen, seep, sell, send, sent, sewn, shag, sham, shed, shim, shin, ship, shit, shoe, shog, shoo, shop, shot, show, shun, shut, sick, side, sift, sigh, sign, silk, silt, sing, sink, sire, site, size, skew, skid, skim, skin, skip, slab, slag, slam, slap, slat, slay, sled, slew, slid, slim, slip, slit, slog, slop, slot, slow, slub, slue, slug, slum, slur, smut, snag, snap, snip, snow, snub, snug, soak, soap, soar, sock, soil, sold, sole, solo, soot, sorb, sort, soup, sour, sown, spae(scottish), spam, span, spar, spat, spay, spec, sped, spew, spin, spit, spot, spud, spur, spurn, stab, stag, star, stay, stem, step, stet, stew, stir, stop, stow, stub, stud, stun, suck, suds, suit, sulk, sung, sunk, surf, swab, swag, swam, swan(brit), swap, swat, sway, swig, swim, swob, swop(brit)/swap, swot, swum, sync (155).

tabu, tack, tail, take, talc, talk, tame, tamp, tang, tank, tape, tare, task, taut, taxi, team, tear, teem, tell, tend, tent, term, test, text, thaw, thin, thud, tick, tide, tidy, tier, tiff, tile, till, tilt, time, tine, ting, tint, tire, toil, toke, told, tole, toll, tomb, tone, tong, took, tool, toot, tope, tore, torn, toss, tote, tour, tout, tram, trap, tree, trek, trim, trip, trod, trot, trow(archaic), true, tube, tuck, tuft, tune, turf, turn, tusk, twig(Brit), twin, twit, type (79).

undo, urge (2).

vade, vail(archaic), vamp, vary, veal, veer, veil, vein, vend, vent, vest, veto, vide, view, vine, visa, vise, void, vote (19).

wade, waft, wage, wail, wait, wake, wale, walk, wall, wane, want, ward, ware(archaic), warm, warn, warp, wash, waul, wave, wawl, wean, wear, weed, ween, weep, weet, weld, well, welt, wend, went, wept, were, wert(archaic), wham, whap, whet, whid(Scottish), whip, whir, whiz, whop, wick, wile, will, wilt, wind, wine, wing, wink, wipe, wire, wise, wish, wisp, wist, wite, wive, woke, wolf, wont, wood, woof, word, wore, work, worm, worn, wove, wrap, writ(archaic) (71).

x-ray (1).

yack, yank, yard, yarn, yaup, yawn, yawp, yean, yell, yelp, yerk, yeuk, yock, yoke, yowl, yo-yo(informal), yuck (17).

zero, zest, zinc, zing, zone, zonk, zoom (7).

IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT

(yes there are 28 ITs)

[ladama47]

Mixed a new glaze...

John Britts 10x10 satin black. Literally 10 ingredients (plus colourant), 10% each.

- [x] Soda f4 feldspar 10

- [x] Spodumene 10

- [x] Silica 10

- [x] Wollastonite 10

- [x] Kaolin 10

- [x] Ball clay (om4) 10

- [x] Dolomite 10

- [x] Talc 10

- [x] Frit 3134 10

- [x] Frit 3195 10

Colourant

- [x] Mason black 6600 5

- [x] Bentonite 2

Will add a test tile photo here when fired.