Poetry and Madness 4, The Firing

I have just done to first of my two planned wood kiln firings. We packed the kiln with a mix of all the residents work on Tuesday. Everyone turned up with their foam boxes of precious wares to be committed to the kiln. It’s always a bit of a dilemma packing other peoples work into the wood kiln, or any kiln for that matter. I have an idea of how I would like to pack the kiln, and if it were just my work, it would all go to plan – more or less. However, when working with a group, there is such a diversity of shapes and sizes, all bets are off, and we just have to make the best pack that we can with what has turned up.

I think that we did pretty well, combining my big round moon jars with 4 foot high sculptures and shelves of domestic items. I have to keep in mind how the flames will pass thorough all this work, so I’m constantly mindful of not just the shapes of the pots, but equally, and perhaps more importantly, the shapes of the gaps between the works that will determine how the kiln fires with regards to even heat distribution. I think that we did pretty well. 

The chamber was all packed with pots by early afternoon. There was a little delay before finishing, as the film crew that made a documentary about me and my interest in Moon Jars, when I was here last year, have returned to make a 2nd doco about my residency here. I didn’t know anything about this until the day before, when I was told that they’d be here. They spent half a day filming me at work in the studio last week and are now back to get footage of the packing, then firing. I can only suppose that they’ll be returning to film the unpacking as well? I’m not involved, only to the extent that I’m in the film. It has all been organised by the Porcelain Museum Director and the Residency Manager, as a way of promoting Museum? I gather that it’s for television and local promotion for tourism? Not too sure? I’m completely in the dark with so little language. I just do what I’m asked to do on the day. 

So this brings me back to the kiln packing. The kiln was almost full when they arrived, so I had to unpack the top shelf and repack it for the camera – 6 times! All from different angles, close up and distance. “That’s great, just one more time please!” etc. Then there was the interview. My talking head close-up, and then “could we just repeat that with a distance view? Now we’ll use 3 cameras, left, right and just off centre. No don’t look at the camera,  just straight ahead over there. Talk to the wall! OK, but the truck just drove past, so we’ll do that again.” After an hour of this I had completely forgotten what I had planned to say and I really don’t know which parts will be cut together, so I hope that it makes some sort of sense in the final cut?

While they were filming, my colleagues were measuring and stacking wood for the firing, then wheel barrowing it over from the wood store to the kiln site. They all worked hard and made up for the lack of attendance the day before. The last bit of filming was me bricking up the door and smearing the clay slip over the cracks to seal it and make it more or less air tight, ready for firing. We arranged to start the fire at 6 am the next day.

I woke up at 3:45, I knew that i wouldn’t go back to sleep, so got up and made my way to the kiln and lit it by 4:00 am. I really like the quiet of the very early morning, pitch black and silent, an hour later, there is a pale glow in the sky and the bird song starts up. minimal at first, just a couple of tweets, but slowly builds to a crazy racket of intensity, then it subsides again as they all depart for their day of foraging. 

One by one my colleagues turn up. First is Yoju, from the studio next to mine. She is a night bird, and has been up all night working. Then the others drift in. We have all brought something to share for breakfast. There is some discussion and a general plan for the day is developed. As we plan to fire through to about midnight. Yoju and I will take a break in the middle of the day for a quick snooze, so that we will be OK for the late finish. The firing goes well and I feel that it is in safe hands when I depart at 2:00. I sleep for 1 1/2 hours and wake refreshed. So good to go for the late night finish.

We ran out of oak 1/2 way through, as we knew we would, so fired on 2/3 pine and 1/3 oak until we ran out, then finished on just pine. The pine made a lot of smoke at times. Not at all to my liking, but what else could I do? I didn’t want to oxidise to reduce smoke and ruin 2 months of my work and of the others also. So we made smoke just like a local! Far from Ideal. Mr Choi the Residency manager turn up for a lot of the 2nd half of the firing. He told me that he had finally got a reply from the wood supplier, that the new delivery of oak will be here  next week. Hopefully in time for my next firing? No one else has these philosophical issues about smoke, pollution, global warming, etc. PM2.5 particles are more or less unknown here. It’s my issue and I have to deal with it. So I do as much as I can without being difficult to my hosts and boring to my colleagues. I state my concerns and leave it at that.

The firing finishes up at 10pm. 18 hours total, 2 hours earlier than I had scheduled for. But the kiln was firing easily and going up well with no real effort. Perfect. Just the way I would like it to be. So I didn’t interfere. I could have closed the damper and stalled it, but for what? Everything seemed to be good and 18 hours is long enough, 20 wouldn’t make a lot of difference, as most of the work is glazed. My next wood kiln firing in 2 weeks time will be only my work, as 3 of the residents are leaving here tomorrow, and another is away. So the next firing will only really be my work and mostly unglazed outside, so I can do what I like.

After we burnt down and closed everything up, opened the air damper in the chimney, and cleaned any left over wood from around the kiln, we all adjourned to my studio for a bottle of Champagne, some nibbles and a de-brief on the days events. We finished up at 11.30.

I slept very well.