The blog is new, so of course it needs at least one early post with a provocative title, right?
The three days between the wood firing and unloading the kiln was delicious anticipation. My stomach was frequently full of butterflies when I'd think about what I might find when we took the pots out of the kiln.
You actually open a kiln like this one by removing, one by one, a wall of bricks. Then someone physically enters the kiln and hands out the pots one or two at a time. Each one emerges like a Christmas gift or something out of a newly discovered buried treasure.
One of the things that attracted me to wood firing is the unpredictability of the results. Unlike some other more modern methods of firing pottery, the look and feel of the pots coming from a wood fire is completely dependent on the materials used, and the materials are natural ones. They aren't perfect or consistent; and they do their own magic. The wood ash settles and melts on the surface of the glaze or unglazed clay and interact to alter the chemical makeup of the glaze. Or even create a glaze where there was none. Every pot comes out different depending where in the kiln it was and how the flame, air, and ash were moving through the space.
Take for example, this cup and saucer:
It is glazed with an oribe. In a regular gas reduction firing, it would be a translucent green. Some areas are actually green, but there are flashes of purple and black with some incredible turquoise.
And if you look at the two shot glasses in this set:
The cups were separated when the kiln was loaded and were placed far apart. One is very warm orange and gold with almost no ash. The one on the right got blasted with ash, and has gray and metallic accents. Amazing.
I find atmospheric firings like wood and soda to be magical, and down right sexy.
The three days between the wood firing and unloading the kiln was delicious anticipation. My stomach was frequently full of butterflies when I'd think about what I might find when we took the pots out of the kiln.
You actually open a kiln like this one by removing, one by one, a wall of bricks. Then someone physically enters the kiln and hands out the pots one or two at a time. Each one emerges like a Christmas gift or something out of a newly discovered buried treasure.
One of the things that attracted me to wood firing is the unpredictability of the results. Unlike some other more modern methods of firing pottery, the look and feel of the pots coming from a wood fire is completely dependent on the materials used, and the materials are natural ones. They aren't perfect or consistent; and they do their own magic. The wood ash settles and melts on the surface of the glaze or unglazed clay and interact to alter the chemical makeup of the glaze. Or even create a glaze where there was none. Every pot comes out different depending where in the kiln it was and how the flame, air, and ash were moving through the space.
Take for example, this cup and saucer:
And if you look at the two shot glasses in this set:
I find atmospheric firings like wood and soda to be magical, and down right sexy.
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