Higham Hall College, October 2012

Despite perfect weather for firing this was not our finest hour, or rather 44 hours. I am inclined to put its failings down to wet wood. We had a ton or so of 60cm long split logs nice and dry in the garage and 4 bundles of offcuts ordered of which only 2 had been delivered. Despite being under tarpaulins the seemingly continuous rain of the summer had left the wood at 30% moisture content (according to Rob's moisture meter gizmo) and the final 2 bundles delivered the day before firing were wetter than the driftwood I pick up on the beech at home.
The lovely Will arrived on Sunday to chainsaw up the bundles and agreed to return on Monday to deal with the second lot. Size matters when it comes to chainsaws, I only wish we'd found Will for the last two marathons of sawing - we were knackered then before lighting the first match. This time we were knackered from the continual rearrangement of wood on and around the kiln as we tried to dry it out. These bundles were of very small bits, far too small for the later stages of firing, and no time to sort it either. Not a perfect arrangement but better than no kiln at all!
Sunday we chopped and stacked wood, straightened the chimney with longer angle iron and brackets and threaded bar top and bottom, and set up tables and the wee pop up marquee which extends the shelter in front of the kiln. Monday was loading day although some precious time was spent on wood. It's a long slow process and so important. I'm not sure we'll ever make the best of it. We each have our own preferences for wadding, dry/sticky, white/flashing, course/fine, and many of the wads fall off by the time the piece reaches the person doing the packing crouched in the bowels of the kiln. More research needed on this. I like a fireclay/course sawdust mixture which flashes nicely and sticks well  to the pots, but it also sticks to hands which is not appreciated by porcelain.
   By the time the light was fading it had already been a long day and there was still dinner to make and the door to brick up and some clamming of holes to do. It was a tighter pack this time. More shelves, lots more pots, one more firer (5 of us). We had put the gas burner on  through the damper at the base of the chimney for a few hours earlier, which was a good move as it dried and warmed up the chimney to improve the draft. It gets very wet sitting through 6 months of Cumbrian weather between firings.
Overnight on gas into the firebox took the temperature to 100? Then we lit a small fire in the grate at 10am and so began the rota of 4 hour shifts, 6 hours off for the next 45 hours.

Pug Mill Blues

Pug mill blues

I have been tripping over 2 buckets of black firing stoneware clay for the past 4 months. As I am trying to convince myself that I am back in the workshop properly and full time after the festivities of winter I thought I would start by dealing with the black stuff. I like the fired colour and texture of this clay, dense blue/black, not as soft as the raku blacks but has the advantage of being stoneware and therefore will take water. Except that after my treatment of it, namely stretching bashing and wood firing, it tends to crack, dunt and leaks like a sieve.
I’m hoping that I can cure this rather fundamental flaw by mixing it with a more fine grained and plastic stoneware. I don’t mind losing a little of the black if I can produce a useable pot. I happen to have a large bucket of white St Thomas scraps, dried and soaked to a nice mush waiting to be reconstituted into throwable clay, and also a bag of unidentified firm stoneware which could be mixed with the black in carefully measured and documented handfuls until it looks about right. A couple of hours work by which time I will be ready to be Creative.

The black clay, anagama fired

I always leave a note of the last batch in the feed hole. I removed the plastic covers from the pug mill and turned it on to check the motor. Working but not happy.
I started to scrape out the nasty crusty iron stained scraps from the safety grid in the feed hole and discovered a nasty crusty iron stained safety grid. Better clean it up before putting more white St Thomas through to push out the remains of the last pugging, won’t take long. I think I have never taken out the grid since I bought the pug mill 2nd hand 3 years ago.

This grid is clean

 

 

 

The intestines of a pug mill

The bolts were seized so Non Potting Partner was called in to wrestle them off and pull out the grid. Whilst I cleaned that he dug out the hard clay underneath and found yet more hard clay.  


   


 16 bolts later the top came off, yet more hard clay and crusty corroded metal. Fortunately the screw which pushes the clay along, mixing and conditioning it was bright shiny brass (or bronze?) under all the nastiness just like the propeller of a ship. NPP, the old sea dog, carried on until all was ship shape and Bristol fashion (what?) as you can see from the dazzle in the photo.

With such a clean mill I had to pug the entire lot of white St Thomas before shoveling in the dirty stuff. So a little job to get me in the mood to unleash a storm of creativity ended up in dry dock for nearly two days to complete, and I am still scrubbing splashes of the black clay from decks.
(It won't stay this clean for long.)

Back to Anagama in Cumbria

  Back to Cumbria before I forget too many details.

After 60 hours I had the feeling to stop. Already 20 hours more than the previous firing with cone 10 down at the front after 30 Hours. So we are certain we have achieved much higher and more consistent heat  than before. I would have liked to have seen the results from this point of the firing but we are on a roll. There's still half a ton of wood left (good and dry to start the next firing I argued) but pyromania takes hold and we keep going.

 The wind picks up. Not so good for pizza on the flue, the top won't cook despite the covering kiln shelf.  Two seconds at the open fire mouth sorts that, five seconds and it's carbonised. The wind is in the trees blowing crazily. Little oblongs of light between the bricks at the top of the chimney become bigger, squarer, lower down too. The chimney is listing away from the kiln. Loud harsh cracks from a tree as it starts, in slow motion to snap. It's not offering itself to the firing but seems to want to get away from it. It's the only thing to pull our attention away from the kiln.

The wood is running low, the rain sets in, the chimney looks dangerous. The kiln is as happy as Larry, I have the impression it would continue for another 6 tons and reach higher temperature.   We call time, I'm really a bit scared that the chimney might go, like a giant red hot Jenga.  As we load up the fire box to finish off, the tree finally snaps and twists as it falls across the drive.
72 hours.

Philadelphia Museum of Art craft show.
Where to begin? and how long have we got?
Not a kiln blog this one but the culmination of 6 months of making and firing. I found out in March that I had been selected as one of 25 makers to represent Scotland as the guest country at PMA Craft show in November. Serious stuff when put like that but no matter how insignificant I feel at times this was an opportunity I wasn't going to turn down.
So I worked my socks off in a very unsystematic, head in the sand kind of way. Trying new things with new clay and new techniques, 'throwing' old stuff into the mix and hoping to goodness  that there would be something decent at the end of it. I fired the wood kiln 6 or 7 times in 6 months (too much for one middle aged woman)  in all weathers (mostly wet this year), rakuing whenever panic loomed. With only half my mind focused on it, the raku work grew, thrived and blossomed. The hands know what they are doing. 

The wood firing was a struggle. I loved doing it but wasn't yet loving the results. One or two pieces from each firing would shine and keep me motivated until the next firing. And I had to keep making, not give up, keep optimistic with all those warnings from wood firers ringing in my ears - ' you learn to love brown'   'don't expect the public to to love it'  'you'll smash more on the spoil heap than you'll keep', blah blah blah but how true.
And then from the ashes of the final firing, 2 days before taking the work to Edinburgh for shipping, a piece which rings all my bells and ticks all my boxes and sent a shiver up my spine......

(haven't even got on the plane yet, we'll get there eventually)


 

Pots from the Martin Hadrava/Masakazu Kusakabe kiln in Klikov

Klikov clay after firing

Kiln floor looking towards firebox

Apologies for not being able to attribute the work to the makers. I arrived at the unpacking too late to see the first pots coming out but there were still a few on the kiln floor to give an idea of the ash deposits there. 

Chamber below chimney full of traditional  Klikov ware