View Larger Image Lowman likes to use organic qualities in conjunction with hard lines, or linear architecture, as shown in this stoneware platter, which is 17 in. (43 cm) square. The piece was initially wood fired, then low-fire glazes were brushed on, and it was refired in an electric kiln.

August 15, 2007

An Anagama and an Electric Kiln

by Daryn Lowman | Read Comments (0)

Today we wrap up our series on selecting and using a kiln by taking a look at firing using a wood-burning kiln. Recent issues of Ceramic Arts Daily focused on the electric kiln, which, when compared to other types of kilns, may provide you with a certain amount of added flexibility, limited risk, faster turnaround, greater control, and and ease of use. Wood-firing, on the other hand, is such that if you are not fully engaged with the firing, a wood fired kiln will not fire. With other types of firing it's easy to forget about the kiln—make a phone call or check your email—since the kiln will continue to fire without your presence.

The anagama kiln is the oldest style of kiln in Japan and has been around since medieval times. The beauty of Anagama style firing lies in the natural ash glazes that can be achieved, and in the excitement of the long firing itself, appreciated by many potters all over the world. There are many different designs for the Anagama kiln, not only in Japan, but on other continents. Not only are there different designs, but also different methods of firing and stacking. No two firings are ever exactly alike, in contrast to let's say, the electric kiln. Firing time can vary from one day to several weeks. Here, Daryn Lowman describes his adventures in combining both wood firing and electric firing in the same piece, by firing once in an anagama and again in an electric kiln.

An Anagama and an Electric Kiln
by Daryn Lowman
In the last twenty years, wood-fired ceramics has gained momentum. Currently, in the United States, the ceramics department at any given college or university does not only boast the quality of its facilities just in the number of electric kilns or the size of car kiln, but also with the representative atmospheric kiln. The emergence of outdoor kilns—be they wood, salt or soda—in ceramics programs is continuing and these processes maintain an evolutionary course.

As happens when most individuals become entranced with the processes of making ceramics, wood firing has a way of taking over all your time. In graduate school this commitment to a specific process can be absorbed, but in life, time is gobbled up by so many tasks. Spending months stacking wood, making work, loading kilns, firing kilns puts a lot of pressure on the work produced.

When considering the quality of wood firing, what is the standard that establishes success? For me a successful wood-fired pot emits a certain energy. It may be the effect of ferocious flames, heat and labor on the surface of a simple coffee cup, or the interior of a platter. However, there are pieces that this labor-intensive process creates that have qualities that are not desirable including unmelted ash, uneven temperatures within the kiln and ineffective flame patterns. That’s wood firing for you.

Sometimes pieces that don’t appear successful at first can become the “desirables” upon later encounters. Most often, however, the work that simply does not make the cut will sit around and maybe find its way back into the tumultuous environment of flame and ash for another go around. When I found it difficult to let go of the “undesirable” or wait for the next kiln load, I inadvertently began considering the idea of continuing the process, but this time without flame and with a different application.

While in graduate school at the University of Minnesota, I became increasingly interested in mid-century design and also the work of English painter Ben Nicholson. Colors were straight out of the bucket, the lines crisp and clean, but also, the surface was intriguing. Surface that gave reference to weathering, touch and time. The surfaces drew me back to rural architecture and the aging qualities of wood and paint; surfaces that contained stories. In the evolution of developing form in my work, I looked toward Korean Yi and Shilla Dynasty wares, American folk pottery, and to landscapes of rural Minnesota.

Integrating these values of process into my own work created many prototypes and discoveries. Initially using soda/salt kilns to play with the mixture of temperatures and to create the first melted layer of information, I quickly found that the glassy uniformity on these surfaces did not develop the desired tensions in textures.

In formulating my work habits, I used the soft, organic qualities of clay, slip and glazes along with crisp, hard lines drawn into the surface. In a sense, I began wrapping the pots with a linear architecture, and utilizing iconographic drawings and shapes to break up the surface.

Within the commitment to any idea or vision there exist levels of restraint and thoughts of reconsidering. In removing a pot from an anagama and taking notice of the incredible layers of ash and color it becomes apparent that showing restraint is sometimes the right decision. In many cases, the drawings on the pots were enough of a separation from the loose forms and the active surface. However, there also were pieces on which fire and ash had not sufficiently left their marks, and these pieces forced me to consider another layer.

It became interesting to find certain lines and shapes drawn on the surfaces, remaining intact and sustaining their crisp freshness. In others the drawings were intact, but only as a residual marking, subtle and ghostly. Taking these pieces back into the studio meant the process continued. I installed a layer that included tiny brushes, little containers of commercial glazes, and a completely different sensibility and touch than the pot had seen thus far.

In the electric kiln, earthy colors become more crisp, the Shinos richer and the commercial glazes brighter! The wood-fired pot that is refired in an oxidized atmosphere still emits the energy of flame and wood, but also is enhanced by the oxygen-rich atmosphere. The additional layer to this process allows the surfaces of old and new, used and cherished to coexist. By combining retro with mingei and a touch of art deco with wabi-sabi, my intention has been to further consider the finality of a work.

To learn more about wood firing
For many potters, wood is more than just a source of heat for a kiln, it is a process. Wood firing can provide a link for ceramic artists to their surroundings and to pottery's beginnings thousands of years ago. Wood Firing: Journeys and Techniques describes some of the technical, safety, and physical challenges of wood firing through first-hand accounts and interviews with potters. These are their personal stories, and in telling them, they share their lessons learned and much of their technical knowledge. Stop by the Ceramic Arts Bookstore today and order Wood Firing: Journeys and Techniques!