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Using an antiquated electric kiln which he has affectionately named "Nora," the 29-year-old war veteran is turning out hand-painted ceramic platters which effectively double as attractive wall plaques. Each plaque bears a different design in its bowl, and has a small wire loop at the back which may be used to hang it on a nail or hook in the wall if the purchaser should decide it is too ornamental for use in serving sandwiches to her bridge club.

The Californian has found he can sell all of these novel pieces that he turns out. His "system" is in putting them on display in several art galleries and museums over the country and selling them for prices ranging from $25 upward. When questioned about how many of his creations he can turn out in any given time, Purkiss smiles before replying: "That depends a great deal upon what kind of mood I'm in and how good the fishing is. One of the reasons for my doing this type of work is the fact that I'm a reasonably lazy man and like to work only when I feel like it rather than punching the proverbial time clock."

IN WORLD WAR II, Purkiss spent forty-one months in Europe, being discharged as a technical sergeant from the engineers corps of the army. Most of those foreign duty months had been spent with a unit in which he designed topographical maps and created models of the type which show the actual contours of terrain. These are used chiefly in instruction of troops or in developing tactics for future operations.

It was during his off duty hours from soldiering that Purkiss first became interested in the possibilities of turning out the individualized items which are helping him to make a name now throughout Southern California.

He had attended Fullerton high school and Junior college before the war, gaining a basic knowledge of art and had then studied for a time at the Chouinard Institute of Art in Los Angeles, before switching to the University of California's School of Fine Arts. In this last named school, he had concentrated on painting and had "dabbled a bit, more for relaxation than anything else" in the ceramics field.

Before he had settled on any particular art medium, however, he had found himself in an olive-drab uniform and stationed in England. It was there that he began poking around in old pottery shops and asking questions of potters. Later, when transferred to France, he followed the same pattern, asking questions and jotting down on a note pad stray bits of information and tricks of the trade.

BACK IN his home town of Fullerton after hostilities ended, Purkiss opened up a small shop in his backyard and began to experiment with ceramics in his spare time. These were sold, when successfully completed, through several Southern California gift shops. The return at that stage was only nominal.

"I was making enough to keep my electricity bill paid and to keep a supply of ceramic clay on hand," Purkiss recalls. "It didn't look as though there was any particular future in the thing, though, until I hit upon the idea of turning out large platters, each one bearing an individualized hand-painted design. I started this and raised my price to $25 per effort. That was a bit steep and a lot of prospective buyers were passing up my stuff until I hit upon the idea of making them so that they also could serve as wall plaques."

This particular idea was born after Purkiss had presented a friend's wife with one of the fourteen-inch platters. The woman made the statement that it was "too nice to just use. It should be made so one can hang it on the wall and enjoy it when it isn't in use."

That was the origin of Purkiss' idea for inserting a piece of looped wire in the soft clay after the platter is molded and baking it into the finished product.

Soon after this incident, an art gallery, the Dazell Hatfield Gallery of Los Angeles, spotted some of Purkiss' work and requested permission to serve as his agent. Much of the Californian's output has since been channelled through this organization.

WHILE HE has concentrated for the most part on the wall plaque-platters, the artist also has found an interesting way of making additional money. He creates large pottery bases for table lamps on order. This particular segment of his work began when an interior decorator saw some of his work and felt that his creations might fit in well with the surroundings of a home which he had been hired to redecorate. The decorator called upon Purkiss, explained what he had in mind, and left the potter to his own devices.

What Purkiss turned out was a large urn-shaped base for the lamp. The piece stands nearly three feet in height. This was then hand-painted with standard ceramic paints, a mountain scene being the subject, and was then baked in his faithful "Nora," the electric kiln. When done, the lamps (the decorator had ordered a matched pair) sold for $100 each. All of this type of work, however, is done by Purkiss only on specific order. "Once in a while I turn one out for my own amusement," he concedes, "and then ship it off to the gallery handling my work. There are few of them that stand around wanting a buyer for too long a time."

Purkiss has guaranteed the originality of his individual projects by refusing to turn out other matched sets of any kind. He was recently approached by a large Los Angeles retailer who wanted to take on some of his goods but, in turn, wanted them to be turned out on a mass production scale. This Purkiss refused to do.

"I was sorry to turn down the order," he explains, "but as it stands, I'm getting a good price for my work and only turn out pieces when I have the time and feel for it. If I started putting them out on a mass production basis I'm afraid the artistic value would suffer. As they are now, each piece is an original creation. As long as I can produce as I like and still sell all that I can turn out, that's my chief interest."

IN PREPARING the materials that go into his pottery, Purkiss resorts to the oldest method known to man. He prepares the basic clay ingredients (purchased through ceramic supply houses in wholesale lots) by kneading the earthy material with his bare feet.

Just outside of his small shop, Purkiss has arranged a stand which holds a huge tub-like basin. Above this is a piece of iron pipe held firmly between two four-by-fours and offering much the appearance of a horizontal bar in a gymnasium.

Hanging on to the bar for balance and support, the Californian gets plenty of exercise by treading the thick, pliant mass of clay and water into the plastic-like consistency which he prefers for turning out his pottery creations on a wheel. It takes something over an hour and a half, according to Purkiss, to free the clay of lumps and attain the "smoothness" that is desired.

He then spreads it out on a canvas square in the sun, allowing it to dry partially before he treads and kneads it some more with his still bare feet. When this operation is completed, Purkiss then packs the thick material into barrels to await the moment when he will need it. He feels that aging this particular mixture as long as possible adds to the quality of his ceramics when they eventually are turned out.

"Time," he claims, "increases its plasticity and continues the decomposing processes within the clay.

"There are plenty of potters around who laugh at the idea of my treading the clay, but I've tried every type of machine I could think of, ranging from a Mixmaster to a cement mixer. This is still the best way. The Egyptians, Chinese and Indians all used the treading method and have turned out some pretty fine potteryware. The Italians, who have been credited with some of the finest ceramics work in the world, use the same method, too. If it's good enough for them, it's good enough for me to accept without question."

At present, the type of clay with which Purkiss is working is three and four years old. To keep it from becoming too dry, he inspects it periodically in its barrels and kegs where it is stored and adds enough water to maintain its plasticity.

For those who feel that four years may be a long time to wait for clay to "season," Purkiss points out that Chinese potters prepared clay mixture for generations ahead rather than mere years.

THE ARTIST'S potter's wheel is a mechanism of his own invention. Originally he tried an electric-powered wheel, but soon discovered that he lacked control over the speed of this. Purkiss bought an old sewing machine of the type powered by the operator's foot. He dismantled this, using the working parts to power the round wheel which rotates in much the same manner as a phonograph turntable. Throwing a mass of workable clay onto the center of this machine, he is able to regulate the amount of speed with which the wheel turns by the vigor with which his foot pumps the treadle. His hands, working the clay as it spins about, shape it evenly into whatever form he desires.

In forming the different pieces on his whirling wheel, the artist has some idea of the kind of design he intends to paint upon it before he molds the pottery into shape. Purkiss makes no preliminary sketches nor does he do any kind of predesigning. Instead, he prefers to work out his designs on the raw pottery, using his knowledge of design and modern art as he goes along. He advises beginners, however, to work out such patterns on paper first and perhaps to outline them on the pottery with a soft lead pencil of the type used in newspaper offices for marking copy.

Before the designs are painted on, however, there are other steps. The piece of green pottery must be sprayed with an opaque glaze which is made up largely of a mixture of water and silicates which are purchased either through a ceramics house or a retailer of chemicals.

"There are any number of ways of preparing such a mixture," Purkiss explains, "but the more common methods are outlined in any good basic book on ceramics production."

This coating, which gives the pottery a rough, porous coating, is then baked in the kiln at a heat of 1,900 degrees Fahrenheit for a matter of ten hours. This slow firing, he explains, cuts down breakage, allowing the clay products to expand and contract slowly and evenly. When this coating has been baked on and the article has cooled, the piece is ready for painting.

Using oxides of metals purchased through a retail chemical house, Purkiss mixes the finely ground particles with water to a consistency which allows them to run freely from the brush. Colors can be changed or regulated by blending the various colored oxides in much the same way that ordinary paints are mixed to achieve a desired tone, according to Purkiss.

IN PAINTING his designs, Purkiss advises the beginner to "just sit down and let the imagination run wild. Some of the least likely designs seem to turn out the best on the finished product."

Once the design has been perfected, a clear glaze of cobalt oxide is sprayed over the product and back it goes into the kiln. Another ten hours of firing at the 1,900 degrees temperature seals the colors beneath the glaze and fuses them firmly together.

Both the clear glaze and the earlier application which leaves the white putty like finish on which the figures are painted can be applied with an ordinary paint sprayer or a ceramic spray gun which is powered by compressed air.

Purkiss broke into the larger field by first showing his products at small, local artists' festivals and shows. He soon found that these presentations were visited by a variety of people in the world of art. He began receiving invitations to show his work in larger exhibits. Contact with art gallery operators stemmed from this, and his chain of contacts began to strengthen.

"There are those who look down their noses at local artists and their work, but the one who wants to get ahead will do well to display his work whenever and wherever he can. If it is good, it will attract the attention of worthwhile people who make a practice of visiting the smaller shows in search of new and undercover talent," Purkiss asserts. "All art has to be discovered, and much of it is found in just such places as this."

Purkiss, in addition to the Hatfield Galleries of Los Angeles, where they say he is "bringing the ancient handicraft of pottery into a respected position in the field of current art expression," has several other outlets at the present time in New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, Washington and Dallas. All are galleries or art museums which feature only top quality work and where top quality prices prevail.

The Californian still continues to exhibit his wares throughout the year, too, and only recently won a $100 award for first place with a single piece of glazed work in the annual show of the Syracuse Museum of Fine Arts.

In his home area of Orange County, California, Purkiss still sells a small portion of his production through a pair of shops that handled his output when he was beginning. One is located in the vacation beach community of Newport Beach, the other in Santa Ana.

Purkiss' work has been watched with interest by Dr. Glen Lukens of the University of California's School of Fine Arts, who expresses the opinion that "here is an artist who is pioneering a field of artistic achievement which has been completely overlooked before." Purkiss studied under Doctor Lukens before the war took him away from schooling.

Purkiss, on the other hand, makes no such claims.