The Kiln Gods Always Have the Final Say: A Pottery Journey
If you’ve ever stepped foot in a pottery studio, you know the aesthetic: serene, zen-like, focused. But if you’ve spent any real time behind a potter’s wheel or working with slabs, you know the reality: it is gloriously, unapologetically messy.
Clay finds its way into every crevice, glaze ends up on your eyebrows, and there is an almost universal law of ceramics that says the moment you fall in love with an idea, the clay—or the kiln—will decide to take it in a completely different direction. You cannot get too attached to the outcome in this craft. You have to surrender to the process and trust that even the "happy accidents" have their own kind of magic.
My latest project is a perfect testament to this.
The Daughter-Approved Design
I decided to let my 11-year-old daughter take the creative lead on the glazing for my latest textured bowl. Naturally, she bypassed the easy-to-use options and went straight for the most challenging one in my collection: that thick, gorgeous, notoriously porous turquoise.
Don't get me wrong—once it’s fired, that turquoise is breathtaking. It pools beautifully in every crevice and brings a depth that no other glaze quite achieves. But the process? It’s a chore. Dipping a piece in a glaze that thick is an exercise in patience, and cleaning up the bottom is an battle of wills.
The Haphazard Glazing
This bowl, in particular, was a chaotic labor of love. I was mid-glaze when I had to dash out of the studio, leaving the piece in the capable, kind hands of a studio mate who tucked it safely onto the kiln shelf for me.
When I returned, the glaze had fully dried onto the bottom of the foot ring. For those unfamiliar with the kiln process, that is a big "no-no." If that glaze stays on the bottom, it will fuse the bowl permanently to the kiln shelf, ruining both the piece and the equipment.
Chisel, Scrub, Repeat
Faced with the task of cleaning it up, I settled in. I had to carefully chisel and scrub that stubborn, dried turquoise glaze away from the base. Surprisingly, there was something deeply meditative about it. In a world where everything is automated and instant, spending an hour slowly scraping away at a mistake—carefully preserving the texture while saving the bowl—was the kind of grounding, tactile experience that keeps me coming back to the craft.
I am absolutely enamored with the large, circular indents I pressed into the clay. I have this vision in my head of how that thick turquoise will flow and settle into those textures, emphasizing the depth and the touch of the maker.
Waiting for the Reveal
Will it look exactly like I imagined? Probably not. The kiln is a volatile environment, and that glaze has a mind of its own. But that’s the beauty of it.
I’m currently waiting on pins and needles to see it emerge from the kiln. Whether it turns out exactly as planned or surprises me with something entirely new, the journey of this bowl—from the initial texture to my daughter's color choice to the "emergency" scrubbing session—has already made it one of my favorites.
Stay tuned for the reveal—I have a feeling this one is going to be special.