First a lump of earth, then a work of art

In the mine: Extracting the white clay

A balmy wind blows across the fields beneath a clear blue sky. We’re used to casting our gaze upwards, but most of us are less interested in what lies beneath our feet. It’s a different story for Andreas Kawka. The 57-year-old has spent a large part of his life underground. He’s drained lignite seams and mined potash in the Sigmundhall mine at a depth of 1400 metres, which is so far underground that it’s 28 degrees all year round and it’s not worth going up for a lunchbreak. 

The mining engineer currently oversees Germany’s smallest mine in Seilitz, ten kilometres outside of Meissen. It was opened in 2023, on 4 December, the day of Saint Barbara, patron saint of miners, in the presence of Martin Dulig, Saxony’s Minister of Economic Affairs. Kaolin – porcelain clay – is mined here, a fine white rock whose primary component is weathered feldspar. 

The mine, a simple white building with a red tiled roof, looks like a detached house. If it weren’t for the crossed blue swords on the side wall, the trademark of the Meissen State Porcelain Manufactory, that is. The mine is part of the manufactory and ensures that there’s sufficient quantities of the high-quality raw material from which the famous porcelain is made. The kaolin extracted here is particularly pure, with the result that the end product is characterised by a brilliant white.

Until 1810, Meissen primarily mined its kaolin from Aue, but as early as 1764 the manufactory also began extracting the raw material here in Seilitz. Now the deposits in the old shaft, 150 metres away, had run out. The new mine is intended to meet demand for kaolin for at least another 50 years, with 150 tonnes being extracted each year.

In times of global crises and supply bottlenecks, mining the processed raw materials yourself is a tremendous advantage. Transport routes are short, the quality of the material is guaranteed, and the employees’ working conditions are easy to monitor. This also offers a competitive advantage: no other porcelain manufactory has its own mine, after all.

Everything is simple and functional, only the finely crafted porcelain wall console, on which a bearded miner in a black jacket with gold buttons is proudly enthroned, indicates that this is a special mine. 

The ladder heads ten metres down the shaft, and only the “Hunte”, the trolleys in which the material is transported, are allowed to take the lift. Two miners work here. Andreas Kawka was one of them until recently, but now he just supervises the work. They use an electric hammer to knock earth out of the wall and shore up the shaft every few metres with wooden props to prevent it from collapsing. “Everything has to be kept very clean so as not to contaminate the porcelain”, says Andreas Kawka. The trolleys are made of stainless steel to prevent any rusting. 

So close to the surface, it can get very damp in the shaft in summer. “Sometimes we even have fog down there in midsummer,” says Kawka. It’s not as dark as it usually is underground, however, as the white walls reflect the light. The work of a miner has hardly changed since the factory was founded in 1710. “It’s hard physical labour,” says Andreas Kawka. “You need strength and enthusiasm to keep going.”

In the pasting cellar: Processing the kaolin

The white clay is brought from the mine to the factory in Meissen and stored in the cellar. It’s cool and damp here, even on a hot summer’s day. The thick stone walls, the floor – and, after a short time, the visitors’ shoes – are covered in white powder.

Many steps are still required until the porcelain paste is ready. The kaolin is sieved in a drum and mixed with water and the milky emulsion is pumped into stone basins where impurities settle. The water is then pumped out and the paste pressed. Finally, feldspar and quartz are added in accordance with a very a precise recipe.

The engraved date indicates when the massive stone basin in which the milk-like kaolin emulsion is stored was set up here: 1867. Time seems to have stood still down here. Since the manufactory moved into these rooms, some 50 years after it was founded, hardly anything has changed in terms of the interior and processes. 

The “Royal-Polish and Electoral-Saxon Porcelain Manufactory” commenced its work in 1710. That was a long time in coming. Ever since the Venetian adventurer Marco Polo brought back the first porcelain bowls from China in the 14th century, European rulers had been fascinated by this special material, which is so fine and translucent yet so strong and stable. European ceramics seemed clumsy and primitive by contrast. Nevertheless, it took over 400 years to find out how to make it. For Augustus the Strong, Elector of Saxony from 1694, his fascination turned into an obsession. He confessed in a letter that he suffered from the “maladie de porcelaine”, the porcelain disease.

At the beginning of his reign, there were some 1000 pieces of porcelain at the Dresden court; when he died, Augustus owned 35,798 objects – the largest porcelain collection in the western world. The absolutist ruler also loved splendour in other areas of life – and he needed the money. So when, in the winter of 1701, he caught wind of rumours that the young apothecary and alchemist Johann Friedrich Böttger had managed to make gold, Augustus the Strong had him brought to Dresden. Böttger was locked up in a laboratory, first in Dresden and later at the Albrechtsburg castle in Meissen. Although gold ended up eluding him, he discovered how to make porcelain during one of his endless experiments in 1708. He managed to create just the right mixture of kaolin, feldspar and quartz, which alters its texture during firing so that the end product becomes translucent like milky glass.

In the studio: Painting the finished pieces

The porcelain production process begins with hard labour, but the final stage requires precision craftsmanship. Ramona Kliemt is sitting at her work table in the painting workshop, which she shares with two colleagues. She’s holding a fine brush in her right hand with short nails. She’s raised her elbow to hold herself steady. The paint is mixed on a tile with turpentine, sometimes also with clove, aniseed or lavender oil. 

With fine strokes, Ramona applies the paint to the workpiece, which is fixed on a wooden stick. Today, the 38-year-old, who otherwise specialises in flower painting, is painting koi carp in red and gold on the handle of a shaving brush. 

The limited edition is the second collaboration between MÜHLE and Meissen. In 2018, the two Saxon manufacturers combined their skills and expertise to create a shaving set adorned with the time-honoured Ming dragon, a traditional motif and homage to the Chinese origins of porcelain.

Through her large, colourful glasses, Ramona’s gaze keeps wandering back and forth between the motifs she’s placed in front of her and the handle. It’s fascinating to observe the precision of her movements, which require great skill and years of practice. The beholder is transfixed by the calm and concentration that she exudes. Only occasionally does she pause and let her gaze wander out of the window over the meadows and trees. “Then your eyes relax,” she says. There’s absolute silence in the room; the only thing that can be heard is the whirring of a fan.

It’s a long journey from the white clay to the finished piece of Meissen porcelain, which is then available for purchase on sales counters around the world. “Porcelain”, they say, “doesn’t forgive any mistakes”. At the end of the day, after the final firing, everything can be seen – a repaired handle or a stain made by a speck of dust that has soaked up too much of the moist paint. And so every piece of flawless porcelain is truly a unique piece of craftsmanship. 

This article is part of our printed 30 Grad magazine. The magazine is being published once per year, you can get a free subscription here.