From Shoreline to Studio | A Month of Questions
This past month in the studio did not go as planned. Just before leaving to visit my children in California, I completed a glaze firing. Like most potters, I looked forward to opening the kiln when I returned home. There is always a sense of anticipation when lifting the lid and seeing weeks of work transformed by heat and time.
Instead, I found a surprise.
Every piece in the kiln had experienced the same problem. The glaze had jumped away from the surface. In more than twenty years of working with clay, I had never seen this happen to an entire firing. What made the situation even more puzzling was that nothing had changed. I used the same clay body; the same glaze materials; and the same firing schedule that I have relied on successfully for years.
For several days, I thought about what might have happened.
The only significant change was in my process. These pieces included layers of slip and engobe applied before bisque firing, followed by additional engobe layers and my Lake Michigan beach sand glaze before the final glaze firing.
My current theory is that I had too many layers of engines and a glaze. I believe an additional bisque firing before applying the beach sand glaze may solve the problem.
As with most questions in the ceramic studio, there is only one way to find out.
Test.
I have spent the past several weeks creating test tiles and running a series of firings to better understand what happened. The kiln often teaches lessons we were not expecting to learn.
At the same time, spring has slowly been arriving along the Lake Michigan shoreline. The winds have become warmer, although it has been a cooler spring than usual. My beach walks continue to provide the same inspiration they always have. Light moving across the water. Patterns left behind in the sand. Small reminders to pay attention.
Unfortunately, the failed firing included a month’s worth of work. New mug forms and bowls that I planned to donate to the Ottawa County Parks fundraiser race could not be saved. After a great deal of consideration, I took a hammer to every piece. No artist enjoys doing that. But clay has a way of teaching acceptance. Sometimes the best decision is to start over.
So that is exactly what I did.
The mugs have been remade. New bowls are drying in the studio. The test tiles continue to move through the kiln. Soon I will know whether my theory is correct.
One of the reasons I continue to enjoy working with clay after all these years is that there is always something new to learn. Just when you think you understand a process, the kiln offers a new question. This month has been less about finished work and more about observation, patience, and problem-solving.
Fortunately, those lessons are just as valuable as a successful firing.
And as always, it all begins with the sand.
