Ceramics of Al‑Andalus
The Iberian Peninsula has a deep pottery history. It stretches from Neolithic and Roman times right up to today. That tradition carried on in Al‑Andalus. There, tiled walls, floors, and buildings became parts of the everyday scene. Islamic Spain became world‑renowned for its ceramics across the Mediterranean.
A rich, vibrant Islamic province
Al‑Andalus sat at the edge of the Islamic world. From the 8th to the 15th century, Arab rulers shaped much of the peninsula. They brought their language, customs, music, poetry, irrigation systems, and geographic knowledge. Craftsmen from Arabic lands added new ceramic methods. They learned how to waterproof pottery and decorate it with wooden stamps, cuerda seca (dry cord), metal oxides, and golden lustre.
Origins of Andalusian pottery
Many potters in Al‑Andalus arrived from Syria, Persia, and Egypt. They made pottery for everyday use, like tableware and ornate jars, as well as tiles and architectural pieces like wells for courtyard houses. From there, their techniques spread throughout Europe.
The art behind it
Pottery starts with raw clay. Glazes come from minerals mixed with sand. Fired in kilns, they melt and seal the piece. Andalusian ceramics stand out for their shape, color, and decoration. Craftsmen there developed many techniques that still influence ceramics globally, even in your kitchen or bathroom.
International networks of innovation
During Medieval times, fine ceramics were part of a continent‑wide technology. Muslim trade routes across Eurasia helped share these methods. In early Muslim Iraq, craftsmen created pottery from light brown clay. They covered it with tin‑based white glaze, then painted cobalt blue designs on top. When fired, the pieces featured Arabic script, geometry, and animal shapes.
The birth of blue‑and‑white porcelain
Cobalt blue glaze traveled along the Silk Roads. It reached China, where it was used on pure white porcelain. That led to blue‑and‑white porcelain, one of the most famous ceramic styles ever made. They showcased Chinese motifs like clouds and fish scales alongside Islamic arabesques and geometric designs. That blend then moved back to the Mediterranean, including Al‑Andalus.
Tile work from Central Asia
Tile patterns from Central Asia also made their way west. Walls, floors, and domes were sometimes covered in shaped, cut tiles arranged in mosaic. This style, known as zellige, reached North Africa and Al‑Andalus. Craftsmen created stunning frescos of color and geometry that still amaze today.
Cuerda Seca: Painting Without Bleed
A technique called cuerda seca, or “dry cord,” involved drawing designs on fired clay. Artisans used a crayon of manganese mixed with wax or oil. They traced lines that acted like barriers. Between those lines, different glazes could be painted. During firing, the colors stayed separate. This method was more economical than cutting different glazed tiles and assembling them. With cuerda seca, craftsmen combined red, green, brown, yellow, and blue glazes on a single piece. They could paint and glaze it in one firing. This offered much freedom in design. Over time, it influenced Spain’s majolica ware and later Italian ceramics.
Lusterware: Rich Metal Sheen
Another key technique in Islamic Spain was lusterware. Potters started with white, tin-glazed pottery. Then they applied a metallic overglaze, often alongside cobalt blue. After a second firing, the pottery gained a soft metallic sheen. This method was difficult and costly. It produced pieces reserved for the wealthy. Many ended up in grand palaces like Granada’s Alhambra. Valencia became a major center for lusterware. In the 15th century, it crafted wedding vases with family crests, medicine jars for hospitals and apothecaries, and ornate banquet plates. Italian Renaissance families, including the Medici, prized these works.
Legacy of Mudejar Artisans
After Christian rule arrived, Mudejar ceramic artisans continued practicing their craft. Their styles and techniques persisted for centuries. But the 16th-century expulsion of some artisan families marked a turning point. Spain began to reject Arabic and Islamic influences. For a long time, their contributions went unrecognized. Today, scholars and historians are working to restore that lost heritage.
Granada’s Creative Heart
Granada once pulsed with artistic energy, imagination, and creativity. Its Muslim architecture remains among Spain’s most celebrated monuments. That same spirit flowed through calligraphy and, often overlooked, pottery.
Jun: A Hidden Treasure
Just north of the Alhambra lies Jun, a small town with its own modest palace. Everyone knows about the Alhambra. Few have heard of Jun, even in Granada. And that’s a shame.
Jun’s palace is called the Pabellón de las Artes. So what’s the link to all this ceramic history?
To find out, you have to walk inside.
A huge iron door slides open with ease. Inside is a bright, open museum space. The room stretches far ahead, curving gently to the left. You can't see where it ends.
All around you, lining the walls and spread across the floor, are over a hundred ceramic pieces. Vases, jars, jugs, plates, oil lamps, and chests. Some tower over you. Others are small enough to sit in your palm. Every piece is shaped with care, coated in rich colors and gold, and covered in precise designs - geometric, floral, and calligraphic. They all reflect the style of the 14th and 15th centuries, during the Nasrid period. That was when the Alhambra was built, and the last 200 years of Muslim rule in Spain saw the arts reach a peak in southern Spain.
If you care at all about Andalusian history, stepping into this place feels unreal. You might think you're seeing things. Almost everything here is lusterware. The technique is complex and time-consuming. And after 1492, when Christian forces took Granada and drove out the last of Spain’s Muslims, the craft was mostly lost in this region.
Lusterware in Al‑Andalus
Ceramics with a clear, metallic overglaze are known in Spanish as loza dorada, or “golden pottery.” But the tint isn’t always gold. You’ll often see silver and greenish silvers, too. This style started in the early ninth century in Basra and Chuff, which is now Iraq. Soon after, craftsmen in Samarra (about 75 miles north of Baghdad) began making large batches. They supplied the Abbasid Caliphate, whose reach stretched from India in the east to Al‑Andalus in the west. Egypt picked up the technique not long after. A few centuries later, craftsmen in Al‑Andalus learned the method and brought it to a peak of beauty during the Alhambra era.
Early lusterware was all about pure metals. Artists used gold, silver, platinum, tin, and copper. They applied the metal to fired clay, either fully or partly glazed, known as bisque, then fired it again at a lower heat. The result was a glossy surface that picked up on the piece’s lines and decoration. Over time, the method evolved. Craftsmen started using metal oxides. They painted them onto the glaze with a fine brush. (A less costly version came much later, in the 19th century. Those used pigment-based lusters and are common in mass-produced ceramics and porcelain today.)
A Man Behind the Magic
Modern revivalists continue this tradition. Jiménez, for example, explains his Alhambra-style luster in a way that mirrors the Moorish heritage. He says he’s in “constant dialogue with all the elements of the cosmos: oxygen, earth, water, fire, and time”.
His process converts metal to oxide, then oxide back to metal. He explains, “Metal plus oxygen produces oxide. So if we now remove the oxygen from the oxide we added previously, we again get metal; a luster.” This, too, mirrors the deep material mastery that the Arabs perfected centuries ago.
Some lusterware pieces are simple to produce. But the really intricate ones may need multiple firings; sometimes up to six separate heats, to reach their full shine and depth.
Very few examples of historic lusterware lasted five hundred years. One of the most iconic is the large Alhambra Vase, also called the Vase of the Gazelles. You’ll find a replica of that vase at the Pavilion. If someone asked how many lifetimes it would take to make all those masterpieces, you might think it’s centuries’ work.
But it’s not. One man made them all. And he’s alive, energetic, and driven.
That's right; it's none other than Miguel Ruíz Jiménez himself.
He stands under six feet tall, thickset, with a beard, and in his mid‑fifties. His wife, Ana, says, “He did it all himself, with his own hands. And he built the Pavilion as well. That alone took him fifteen years.”
His Pavilion holds more than his art. It also houses a giant studio, an auditorium, and research labs. Right next to it, he runs a small factory with twenty‑four employees. They turn out decorative Andalusian pottery that you can buy in local stores. It’s a world apart from the rare Nasrid‑style lusterware he makes. Those pieces sell for anywhere from €100 to €60,000, or about $120 to $72,000.
A Granada newspaper called Jiménez “a sketcher, welder, potter, wood carver, chemist, blacksmith, painter, writer, architect, sculptor and artist.”
Jiménez himself calls his work “alchemy.” That word comes from the Arabic al‑keemiyaa’, which means transmutation (turning one thing into another). It fits perfectly. The golden sheen of his lusterware comes from a complex, nearly mystical process of turning metal into oxide and back again.
Ana Carreño, editor of cultural magazine El Legado Andalusí, says Jiménez has followed the authentic Arab tradition in making Alhambra‑style glazed pottery. She calls his research “serious and accurate.” Over twenty‑five years, his dedication has earned him recognition in Spain and across the Gulf Arab countries. He’s featured in exhibitions, on TV, and leads workshops.
A Potter's Son and the Alhambra’s Spell
Jiménez grew up in Granada, the son of a humble potter. He had clay under his nails before he could walk. By the time he turned seven, he was already throwing pots. But what really pulled him in, or, what lit the fire, was the beauty of old Andalusian ceramics. That moment came more than 30 years ago, when he saw the vases of the Alhambra. He said, “When I contemplated the vases of the Alhambra, I decided that I wanted to do this, and I started to research and study.”
That choice took him down a very different road from his father’s...
A Lost Art with No Manual
Rebuilding this lost tradition wasn’t simple. Jiménez had to go deep. He studied chemistry. He traveled the world to visit Nasrid ceramic works wherever they survived. He found no written instructions from the Nasrid period. Just a few names of potters survived: Suleiman Alfaqui, Sancho Almurci, Hadmet Albane, Felipe Frances, Abdul Aziz, and Abel Allah Alfogey. No notes. No records of technique. Nothing to explain about how they worked.
The Epic of Clay
In 1990, Jiménez self-published a book about his journey. He called it The Epic of Clay. In it, you see his more poetic side. His writing can be as layered as the designs he paints.
He says formulas and strict technical steps won’t always help. Instead, he talks about the balance between substance and space. He tries to reach an intuitive art; a feel for shape, tone, texture, color, and shine that can’t be reduced to instructions. He writes about the wild mix of subtle things that make a finished piece unique.
Later in the book, he brings up the idea of duende: the deep emotional force needed to create real lusterware. He says you have to feel the unknown elements fully. Even if the process heads toward a planned result, the journey itself moves through constant changes and risks.
Rebuilding the Past Piece by Piece
To revive this lost art, Jiménez hunted down materials. He found local clay and minerals, but also searched far. He sourced from China, South Africa, England, and France. He studied them all. Over the course of four decades, he built Arab-style kilns. He learned to fire them up to 1040 degrees Celsius, or 1904 degrees Fahrenheit. You can still find these kinds of kilns today in historic pottery towns like Paterna and Manises.
Local potters in that region always used what they called “mountain wood” to fuel their fires. That means wild plants like thyme, rosemary, and gorse. These burn hot and give off a certain kind of smoke. Jiménez kept that tradition. But he tweaked everything; his clay, his fuel, the heat, and how each piece sat inside the kiln. Every single factor could change the final result. So he adjusted and re-adjusted, chasing the look and feel of the Nasrid originals.
Drawing the Past by Hand
Jiménez didn’t just study clay and kilns. He taught himself to draw, too. And not just any sketches. We're talking about detailed, complex work: calligraphy, floral patterns, geometric forms, chains, borders, stars, and polygons. All of it was drawn to reflect or rebuild designs from the Nasrid period. One large vase, he says, can have a surface area of two or three square meters, or about 40 to 60 square feet. Every bit of that space needs to be covered in patterns. And not on a flat canvas either. These designs wrap around curved, uneven, sometimes oddly shaped surfaces.
To get it right, he works through hundreds of drafts. Sketch after sketch. Drawing after drawing. Rejected again and again until something finally fits. For just one finished piece, he might go through 300 or 400 designs. And with each one comes day after day of hard, focused work. He says the process involves steady thought and ongoing reflection.
The Making of a Masterpiece
Then comes the physical part. A vase like the Alhambra one, for example, weighs about 100 kilograms, roughly 220 pounds, and stands nearly five feet tall. Shaping something that size on a wheel isn’t quick or easy. Just throwing the base form can take an entire month. The top part has to stay moist the whole time. If it dries, it won’t connect properly to the rest. But the lower parts need to dry enough to hold everything up. It’s a delicate balance that takes constant watching and adjusting.
“You humanize the piece with your hands,” Jiménez says. “You mark on the vase your impressions of humanity and sentiment, mastery and culture.” That mindset, he believes, is what allowed him to match the work of Al-Andalus’s old masters.
An Art Built on Feeling
The more you learn about Jiménez’s work, the clearer it gets: his process isn’t just technical. There’s something deeper behind it. He knows the science. He’s tested the chemistry. But his choices are also guided by instinct, shaped by years of working closely with clay and fire. His decisions come from feeling as much as knowledge.
Now, though, that silence he once had is often broken. His phone rings all the time. Customers, relatives, friends, workers from the factory; everyone needs something. Watching him now, it’s hard not to think about how different the past must have been.
What would Michelangelo have done with a cell phone?
Originals and Inventions
He was asked if his big amphora-style vases were straight copies of historical pieces or if they were his own. He said they were both. He explained that you start by absorbing what’s already known. You study the original works, understand them, and then you rebuild them in your own way.
“It’s like building a structure,” he said. “You have the cement, the base knowledge. Then you take the elements you know, and you use them to add something more. If there’s a part I don’t know, I go find it. I study it. Or I make it up.”
Mastering Fire and Smoke
Jiménez says the first firing is one of the hardest parts. He still prefers the traditional Arab wood-fired kiln for large pieces. He explains that controlling the kiln's atmosphere is all about understanding airflow: how air moves inside, the proportions, the placement, and the height. It’s not just about heat. It's about how the air flows between the combustion chamber and the firing area.
When loading the kiln, every piece must be positioned with precision. You place each one based on how you want it to come out, how fast you want it to fire. There’s a small opening underneath to help control all of this. To get the right firing conditions, the air has to move, but with barely any oxygen.
Smoke is another key part. But it's hard to put into words. “Smoke; I cannot explain it,” Jiménez says. “You have to know the inside of the kiln. You have to dream with it, think about it burning.” Then you check the finished piece, compare it to the last one, and learn from that. Getting it right takes endless rounds of study, trial, failure, and more trial.
Replica or Revival?
But can he make an exact replica of a Nasrid piece?
Jiménez doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he asks: “What would that culture have become if it hadn’t been torn apart 500 years ago? Those terrible wars?”
He says he can either act as a messenger from the past or move forward with that culture’s beauty and depth and keep it alive.
He’s managed to create pieces that match the old ones almost exactly. Sometimes, he even improves on them. Many designs are his own. “I copy, I research, I find the essence,” he says. “And sometimes I add something new, something from our time, but always with full respect for the work of those people from 500 years ago.”
A Need for Quiet
Lunch wraps up. Jiménez picks up his phone and turns it on. It rings right away. He answers, hangs up, and it rings again. He looks annoyed, shuts it off. “I’m going to get rid of this thing. And the factory. And anything else that wastes my time. I want peace and quiet. I need time to create. That’s what I was born to do. I need space to say what I have to say.”
Before we part, he leaves me with this: “I hope others take what I’ve done and build on it. Keep going.”
A Clear History of Mudejar and Hispano‑Moresque Pottery
Ceramics in medieval Spain tell a vivid story. And Al‑Andalus was where it all began. The Mudejars stuck around even after Christian kingdoms took over before 1492. They kept speaking Arabic and held on to Islamic customs. And they became the main potters for Christian clients.
These Mudejar artisans used a mix of Islamic and Christian designs. They painted detailed patterns. They carved into the clay. They stamped symbols on tiles and dishes. You can spot their work by the dense decoration. You’ll see complex radial patterns and bands circling out from a center. Symmetry is a key theme.
One standout creation is the Seville alicatados. These are decorative tiles made from many small colored pieces. Artisans fit them together to cover walls and floors. They created intricate mosaics with bold colors.
Hispano‑Moresque Pottery: A Blend of Cultures
Hispano‑Moresque pottery emerged in Al‑Andalus and stayed popular after Christian rule. It combined Islamic and European styles. In the 14th and 15th centuries, it was Europe’s most stunning ceramics. These wares were ornate and valuable. They were shipped across Europe. Italian maiolica only began to rival this style in the 15th century.
The name Hispano‑Moresque also applies to some silk textiles from Al‑Andalus. They show geometric motifs similar to those on the pottery. The term even names some carpets and metalwork. Museums sometimes label armor pieces like parade helmets with it.
How Islamic Firing Techniques Transformed Europe
Starting around 711, the Moors introduced two key ceramic innovations to Europe. The first was tin‑glaze. They created a white, opaque coating that made surfaces smooth and bright. The second was lustreware. That meant firing ceramics with a metallic sheen that shimmers in light. These effects came from special overglaze paints and a second firing.
Muslim potters favored lustred ceramics because Islamic law forbade using gold and silver tableware. So they turned to pottery and glass for ornate plates and cups. This gave rise to exceptionally luxurious ceramics. Meanwhile, in Christian courts, noblemen still used metal dishes and goblets.
These techniques reshaped regional ceramics forever. The white tin‑glaze led to the colorful Italian majolica. And lustreware became a hallmark of luxury pottery far beyond Spain.
Málaga to Valencia: Moving Centers of Hispano-Moresque Pottery
The early heart of ceramic production in Al-Andalus was in Málaga, down in the south. This city stood out as the key center where pottery was made fully under Muslim rule. That makes it different from later hubs like Manises, where most of the workforce was likely Muslim or Morisco, but under Christian power.
Málaga’s ceramic art was already known for its gold lustreware by the 1300s. These wares had a white enamel base and were topped with shimmering gold decoration. What sets Málaga pieces apart is the use of blue paint mixed with gold on a red clay body, something that wasn’t done in Granada. You can spot the regional difference just by looking at the colors and base material.
Granada, Almería, Murcia, and possibly other southern cities also had strong pottery scenes early on. These areas made ceramics that stuck closer to the traditional Islamic look. But even so, a lot of this work was shipped to Christian buyers. That’s clear from all the coats of arms painted right onto many of the pieces.
By the 1400s, Valencia took over as the main production zone. The Crown of Aragon had long since taken it back from Muslim rule, and workshops there were focused on a growing Christian market. Manises and other towns in the region became major exporters, sending wares all over Europe.
Some scholars, like Alan Caiger-Smith, don’t count Málaga ceramics as true Hispano-Moresque. But most who use the term include Málaga and the other Andalusian cities under Islamic rule. Back in the 1800s, researchers mainly knew about the Valencian pottery. They missed how much had come from Al-Andalus. Over time, as new digs happened in Málaga and clay samples were tested, many pieces that had been linked to Manises were re-attributed to the south. This kind of reclassification was still going on even in the 1980s.
13th‑Century Lustreware in Al‑Andalus
Lustreware in Al‑Andaluz didn’t appear until the early to mid‑13th century. That timing likely coincides with Egyptian potters fleeing unrest. They brought their skills and started crafting lustreware here. Archaeological finds show early pieces embedded as decoration in Pisa church facades. Records from 1289 note that 42 bowls, 10 dishes, and 4 earthenware jars from Malaga passed through Sandwich, Kent, bound for Queen Eleanor of Castile. Malagan ceramics were also shipped east, turning up in places like Fustat, medieval Cairo.
The Grand Alhambra Vases
The most famous Andalucian ceramics are the Alhambra vases. These massive lustreware amphora‑style pieces stood in niches at the Alhambra in Granada. They were purely decorative and huge - about human‑height, between 115 and 170 cm tall. They date from the late 14th to the 15th centuries. None are identical. Each vase shows its own shape and pattern. Ceramic scholar Alan Caiger‑Smith wrote that “few other pots in the world make such a strong physical impression”.
Today, you can see them in museums across Spain, plus in St Petersburg, Berlin, Washington D.C., Stockholm, and Palermo. Some survive only in fragments. Lustre tiles still decorate parts of the Alhambra.
One exceptional find is the Fortuny Tablet. This unique lustre plaque measures 90 × 44 cm. It shows a garden motif and bears an inscription praising Yusuf III, Sultan of Granada (1408-1417). Its style echoes that of Spanish carpets.
Nasrid Decline and the End of Fine Pottery (c. 1450)
After Yusuf III died in 1418, his eight-year-old heir took the throne. The Nasrid kingdom weakened. Its fall in 1492 marked an end to a rich ceramic tradition. Around 1450, fine pottery production in Granada stopped suddenly. But “obra de Malequa” pottery from Malaga remained a valued term, especially in Valencia.
Valencia and the Rise of Manises and Paterna Lustreware
Valencia came under Christian rule in 1238. Potters from Granada moved north, drawn by work and skill-sharing. By the mid-1300s, Manises and Paterna were thriving centers of lustreware. In 1362, two Manises potters - one named Juan - crafted lustred floor tiles for the Pope’s Palais des Papes in Avignon, labeled “obra de Malicha.” A German traveler in 1484 noted vessels made by Moorish potters, still using Arabic techniques.
The Buyl family of Manises promoted this ceramic boom. They brought in craftspeople and sold their work widely. In 1454, Maria of Castile, Queen of Aragon, ordered a large service through them. The Buyls took a 10 percent cut on pottery sales. Their ambassador roles helped spread Manises ware across Europe. Archaeology shows the largest find outside Spain was in Sluis, then in Burgundy.
Manises potters benefited from local resources too. Nearby clay pits and special sand for glaze-making fueled high-quality production.
Catalan Lustreware and New Centers in 16th Century Spain
Meanwhile, Barcelona in Catalonia embraced pottery later on. Though under Muslim rule from 718 to 801, its pottery revival came during the Reconquista. Craftsmen from Valencia, some Christian, brought brown-and-green Paterna styles north. By the 1500s, Barcelona developed a lustreware style in warm silvery gold. This signaled new materials or changing tastes. Other Spanish towns joined the trend, launching local lustreware workshops in the same era.
Valencian Pottery for Christian Patrons
In Valencia, most pottery was made for Christians. You see coats of arms and Western symbols on the pieces. The IHS monogram sits in the center of some dishes. The vine‑leaf patterns on a top dish feel Gothic. They likely mimic illuminated manuscript designs. Many wares are undated and unsigned. So heraldry helps date them. People think some were made to celebrate weddings. Dishes had to look striking and refined. On special occasions, every vessel got used. But the biggest platters mostly stood upright on sideboards, as seen in old paintings.
Andalusian Patterns and Hidden Meanings
Andalusian pottery features geometric patterns inside painted sections. These shapes may have held religious meaning unknown to Christian buyers. You also find pseudo‑Kufic script and real Arabic inscriptions. Gold and blue are the main colors, possibly echoing sun and sky. Brown, green, and yellow appear less often. After 1400, animal motifs became common. These probably began on export pieces before Muslim locals embraced them. Some late “Alhambra vases” show gazelle pairs. By then, Granada’s Nasrid rulers had their own heraldic arms. These crests appear on local pottery too.
Double‑Sided Decoration in Valencia
Many large Valencian dishes display detailed coats of arms on top. Underneath, they have boldly painted animals that fill the whole base. These creatures often mirror heraldic imagery. Manises became a major center. Between 1380 and 1430, it produced some of the finest ceramic art ever. Alan Caiger‑Smith called those years unparalleled in pottery history. He said those vessels would remain among the world’s best.
Hispano‑Moresque Shapes and Influence
In the 15th century, Hispano‑Moresque pottery featured many shapes. There were tall albarellos, grand serving dishes with heraldry, and jugs on high feet like citras and grealets. You also see deep-lebrillo-de-alo dishes and eared cuenco-de-oreja bowls. These wares shaped early Italian maiolica in a big way. Some suggest the name maiolica even links back to Hispano‑Moresque styles. Late in the century, designs started mimicking silverware with raised edges and gadrooning. Pottery centers also made tiles. One notable find is a small ceramic tombstone for a student who died in 1409. It’s one of the few pieces with a precise date.
Decorative Motifs of Hispano‑Moresque Ceramics
Albert Van de Put sorted ceramics decoration into ten clear types. He described large mock‑Arabic letters and smaller ones. There are spur‑bands with cross‑hatching, and floral or leaf patterns on dotted backgrounds. Some designs mix big vine leaves with small flowers in two sizes. Others use general foliage or bryony leaves with tiny blooms. Then there are rounded vine motifs and diapering made of dots and stalks drawn from earlier themes. He also noted gadroons, those raised ridges copying metalwork edges.
Reconquista’s Impact on Ceramic Styles
Christian forces took Valencia for the last time in 1238. Malaga fell after the Siege of Málaga in 1487. Mudejar Muslims and Moriscos stayed on for a time. But by 1496, the Mudejars were gone. In 1609, the Moriscos were expelled. That removed a third of Valencia’s population.
Many potters had already embraced Christianity. The Hispano‑Moresque approach survived in Valencia, albeit weaker. The early high quality faded. Later pieces often used reddish‑buff clay with dark blue patterns and lustre glaze. By then, Spanish ceramics had lost its prestige to Italian maiolica and others.
Valencia’s Decline in Quality and Demand
Alan Caiger‑Smith argues that Valencia suffered from its own fame. The top‑tier pieces were custom jobs with unique heraldry. These became popular with minor nobles and merchants. As demand grew, pieces got smaller. Decoration simplified and became repetitive.
Meanwhile, Italian maiolica took bold steps. Italian potters introduced figurative Renaissance painting and metalware styles that Valencia didn’t match. Valencia copied some metal shapes but stayed tame.
The Final Fade and Modern Revival
Production continued slowly, driven by local needs for tiles and decorative items, like votive gifts. Around 1800, about thirty kilns still ran in Manises. That’s also when efforts began to preserve old techniques. In 1785, Carlos III ordered a report to document ceramic methods before they vanished.
By the 1870s, demand grew for pottery resembling early masterpieces. New workshops sprung up. Some still operate today. But few create truly original work in that old tradition.
