T

he workshop later passed to her daughter, Francisca Palou, who continued producing the classic designs beloved across the island, including farmers, horsemen and demons. Today, the third generation of this female lineage, Coloma Cañellas, has taken the lead. “I’m all the roles in the workshop,” she says with a smile. “Owner, ceramist, promoter, packer, seller.” It is a one-woman venture, but one built upon a century of family knowledge. For Coloma, learning the craft was never a formal process. It was simply part of everyday life. “When you grow up in a house-workshop like ours, you don’t really realise when you start. It’s just always been there,” she explains. The artist made siurells from a young age, little by little, watching and helping.

‍

At first glance, a siurell seems simple. But its history is layered and surprisingly mysterious. Traditionally, siurells were thought to serve practical and playful purposes alike. Shepherds may have used them as whistles to gather animals, while children treated them as toys or simple musical instruments. Their origins, however, remain uncertain. Some historians believe the figures may be linked to ancient Mediterranean pottery traditions, possibly even to Minoan culture. Others argue they arrived through influences from Italy or elsewhere in the region.

‍

“I’ve heard many ideas about where they come from,” Coloma says. “Some say the Minoans, others different Mediterranean cultures. I like to believe they come from those ancient roots, from the many civilisations that shared the Mediterranean.” Over time, the clay figures have been associated with the pottery villages of the municipality of Marratxí, particularly Sa Cabaneta and nearby Pòrtol. Whatever their beginnings, siurells have become unmistakably Mallorcan. 

‍

Despite changing times, the production process of the siurells has barely altered over the past century. Everything begins with clay, now supplied prepared from Barcelona. The material is mixed with water until it reaches the right consistency before being shaped into the figure’s basic forms, known as the bolo and the churro. The characteristic whistle is then crafted and attached. Once assembled, the piece is left to dry before being fired in a kiln at around 1,000 degrees Celsius. After firing comes the more distinctive stage. Each figure is coated in a layer of matte white paint before receiving the traditional green and red brushstrokes that define the siurell’s appearance. The meaning of these colours remains unclear. “I honestly think they were simply colours that were easy to obtain,” Coloma explains.