Anagama firing

To say it is amazing and impressive is probably an understatement.  Standing by the kiln in the dark, watching flames shooting out of the ports and the stack, takes you back in time.  You sense the ancient connection, the primal quality of taking mud from the earth, forming it with your hands, then giving it up to the fire.  No other artistic medium is quite like it.  You do all the work, make the best pot imaginable, then, when you fire it, it can crack, or explode, or turn out horribly...or magnificently.  You never know.

My husband Nils Lou has been a ceramic artist and teacher all his life, and over 20 years ago, he built a large anagama kiln, the East Creek anagama, on our property.  What, you may ask, is an anagama?  It is a replica of an 8th century Korean hill-climbing kiln which is fired with wood.  It is built into the bank of 

a hillside, holds about 500 pots, uses 6 cords of wood to fire it, and requires crews of people to stoke it 24/7 for several days.  It has now had over 100 firings done in it, and tomorrow the warming fire will be started for the next one, and by Thursday a.m. the serious stoking begins as we work towards getting to 2400 degrees by Saturday night or Sunday. 

 Last weekend a crew of potters came and helped with the loading, which took all day Friday and half of Saturday.  Each potter has several of their creations in the firing, and will be actively involved in the endless wood-moving, kiln-stoking that goes on during the firing.

For days, approximately every 2-3 minutes, split logs are dropped in the front door of the kiln while tiny sticks of kindling are dropped into each of the 4 side ports.  Doing so requires a leap of faith to get past those childhood admonitions of being told to stay away from hot things....in this case, very, very, very hot things.  When a potter lifts the heavy concrete port door to put in the kindling, she must lean way back or risk an instant singe job on her hair!

It will take a full week for the kiln to cool enough to unload, so the following Saturday, all the participants will stand around expectantly as the door to the kiln is unbricked, the ashes are swept out, and the long process of handing out pot after pot after pot begins.  There are oooh's and aaahhh's, as well as  oh no's.  Each piece is passed around and carefully inspected because everyone wants to see the outcome.  Interestingly much of the glaze color comes from the ash, so the end result is highly unpredictable, but is often breathtakingly beautiful.

This twice a year event marks the spring and fall seasons, when the forest is wet enough to ensure no flames will ignite a fire, and a time of twice-yearly reconnection with fellow artists, students, and friends as we share hard work, good conversation, and yummy food....and the final step for our artistic creations.

(Photos courtesy of Cindy Hoskisson)