Backyard Kiln

Dreams Fruition

The most primal set up, for now.

I love my kiln. I have long needed an art modality that was physical. I love the process of ceramics, it feels and is completely alchemical.

There are nuances to each phase that must be nailed in order for the whole process to come out satisfactory. It’s teaching me patience and attention to detail. I hadn’t ever completed the process from start to finish, being able to shepherd it myself each step of the way feels much different than when I dabbled in studios and the finished product just magically appeared. It still magically appears but knowing how different it looked before I closed the lid feels way more special to me.

testing glazes, and testing how far I can push clay without it cracking or exploding

I find it important to notice when things work out. Even when my complete visions of my current iteration of life are still a bit murky, I will notice when the small ones work out in small steps. Before moving to New Mexico, I fantasized to Michael about finding a kiln for (our) (potential) yard. I had seen a one pop up on facebook marketplace in my visit out here last Summer and didn’t realize it was a possibility to find one cheap which got me stirring. I hadn’t yet made the decision on moving so of course I let it go, still wondering if that’d be my only chance. I would have never been able to lug a kiln onto the hill I once lived on. A pro to the list of both that exists on my reflections upon moving here. Once January rolled around and the dust had settled from an exhausting two months post move we kept our eyes out for one. I didn’t know much about kilns and was honestly kind of weary of the process, doubting that I could manage one for some reason.

We ended up meeting with a nice older man who led us to his garage. It had been his mother’s kiln, he reflected fondly on her using it in this same garage during his childhood. I liked the feeling that perhaps she’d be happy from (up there) that it would be getting used again. He told us it hadn’t been ran in 10 years, at least, but had always worked great dating back to 1969. Old things made to last. It weighed more than two strong, helpful men would willingly volunteer to carry. I was apprehensive but for $250, even with a tight budget, felt like a gamble I was willing to bet on. The nice man threw in all the accoutrements he could find in his scrambled garage - kiln shelves, tons of different sized posts, extra heating elements in case something went wrong which I didn’t even quite understand at the time but pretended to know, old dried up underglazes, and even an accessory to hang beads on which had been a current fixation of mine so it felt like a sign. The whole set up. I zelled him with a small amount of anxiety and hope in my chest and packed the trimmings up as Michael and him heaved it into the back of my Jeep as the whole car sank a little lower to the ground.

It sat on our front porch for a little while as we (he) haggled with his landlord about getting an electrical set up for it installed at the house. I suppose we should’ve asked prior to buying the kiln but I was holding good faith in this situation. He’s a very nice man, too, and agreed to support my foray into the art. Everyone in this town loves to support Michael, and everyone else, but especially Michael, I’ve realized. I understand why but it’s sweet to witness and partake in the return of the favors he’s offered to others. We ended up getting it wired by another, nice man, and softball buddy of his, in town who offered to do it for cost. The whole set up coming in around $600, for the kiln and wiring. That felt like a miracle enough to me, based on what I had read online. I wasn’t sure how long I’d want to stay in this house but this has certainly helped me get comfy for awhile.

Now, to see if this beauty works. Spoiler, she does, and very well (so far, knock on wood or your nearest mug for me). She’s an old Paragon square kiln from 1969 as I mentioned. She has no kiln sitter and no screens obviously, just me and the cones working it out.

I’ve made a few mistakes already but they were important to learn, I won’t do them again, I think. I’ve made it through 3 total firings so far, from greenware to glaze, so 6, with my 7th happening as we speak. I already feel much more in flow and in tune with the process compared to the very first firing. To call myself a ceramist seems silly and not so silly, I’m clocking my hours. I’m learning a lot. I have always learned best through doing. My attention works best when my hands are involved. I often scribble while on the phone with my friends to stay present which seems counterproductive but makes sense to me.

I’m working on not working best alone, but I work best alone as of now. I debated on getting a membership at a studio when I first moved here, so I could push myself out of hermit. But to be honest, it didn’t feel right. I’m happy with my decision. It would’ve been nice to be out in the world, meet people, but it wasn’t actually want I wanted even if it seemed like a more reasonable option. I’ve found being able to set up shop and work when I want, for as long as I want, with no eyes on me has been helpful. I fear when I worked in studios I was a little preoccupied with doing things “right” and not on what I was truly wanting to make. I feel more free this way. I have enjoyed being able to push and test the limits without fear of scolding instead just having to clean up my own messes. I realize being more comfortable cleaning up my own messes instead of being scolded could be psychoanalyzed but I am choosing acceptance in this moment. I think my work is already much better than it’s ever been, refining itself with feedback from each firing. I can feel myself getting closer to my own style, what actually feels fun and right for me to create. It’s not quite there yet but I have excitement in getting there.

my motto is tiny cup and fill back up

So the small vision created a reality out of me. I notice this… how seamless it worked out. It ties me back to the completion of something else too. I was kind of a brat at times growing up, libra style, I liked beautiful things. I’d complain to my mother that the plates she owned were ugly and that I wanted new ones. She scoffed and declined, appropriately in hindsight, with greater priorities at the top of her list. At the time, I was obsessed with cooking and wanted to become a chef so I was constantly trying to practice plating things and wanted them to look professional. My first job was working in the kitchen of a restaurant, which I was quite good at and loved, but soon realized the lifestyle was most likely not for me longterm. But my obsession with kitchenware in general has never wavered. I have dreamed of having a kitchen filled with things I have made. It legitimately brings so much warmth to my heart and feels so satisfying every time I use something. We are working on completing that loop for my younger brat self too, you can have the new plates, if you can figure out a way to get them to stop cracking in the kiln (any tips appreciated).

xoxxoxooxoxoxxoxoxoox

Jenny