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Legacy Article "Flame Throwers"
Fall 2003
by Patricia Myers
I'm holding a bowl, a handmade pottery bowl that's been
touched by the fire. A ritual baptism, this encounter with the flame has
carried the bowl from one world to the next, anointing its rim and softly
sloping interior with ash melted to an almost translucent green. Outside,
one side blushes, remembering the flame's fiery kiss.
For clay to become pottery, it must pass through a series of
transformations, a series of tests. For its final test, it must pass
through fire. The history of using wood to make that fire stretches back
thousands of years. During a wood firing, ash floats through the kiln,
landing on the exposed parts of the pots, finally melting into a glaze
with lustrous depth.
In Alberta, many potters are choosing to fire with wood to have a chance
to dance with the flame. John Chalke, one of Alberta's premier potters,
has been building wood fire kilns and inviting the flame to dance for over
30 years. He thinks of his kiln just outside Calgary as being part of the
landscape, part of the whole organic experience of forming clay into
objects and transforming them with fire. Christian Barr and Enzien Kufeld
are two potters living near Wildwood, Alberta. They have built three wood
fire kilns. For Barr, wood firing is a spiritual process, and the kiln has
a central role. "I build kilns and kiln sheds with the idea that they are
ritual spaces," he says, "Places that celebrate our unity of body, mind,
and spirit. These kilns belong to their place as though they have always
been." For potter Tammy Parks-Legge, watching the kiln during a firing is
totally enthralling. "The flames shoot out the chimney and the blowhole on
the door of my kiln," she says, "I never get tired of the process."
Loading the kiln is critical to the wood firing
process. Pots are carefully placed so pathways snake between them,
inviting the flame to pass by. The flame leaves only clues, not answers,
on the pots it touches. The kiln gives up its secrets reluctantly. The
potter must figure out why the flame lingered here or sped past there, why
so much ash landed here, and not there. "You unload everything the way it
went in," says Carol Selfridge, one of Alberta's renowned established
potters, "so you can see what happened, see the path of the flames." Many
potters give some of their pieces multiple firings, building up the ash
glaze, offering the flames more than one chance to dance over their pots.
During a wood firing, the kiln must be attended regularly. Wood firings
last hours, more usually days. The kiln is warmed gradually, then the fire
is built steadily, coaxed stick by stick and slab by slab to reach out
through the kiln's chamber. During loading, temperature indicators called
cones are placed throughout the kiln. Each cone is made to slump over at a
certain temperature, showing the potter how hot the kiln is getting, how
fast things are moving. Welder's glasses shield human eyes from the searing
flames. The pots have no protection. Some flinch and crack as the flame
comes near. Others are open to it, waiting for transfiguration.
For the potter on the outside, not quite knowing what's happening inside
is part of the challenge, and the wonder, of firing with wood. "Wood
firing teaches you humility," says Selfridge. Watching the shimmer of the
glaze on a pot, pushing the right pieces of wood into the fire at the
proper time and rate, influencing the amount of ash created and released
by the fire, teasing the flame past the pots at the front to those waiting
at the back, the potter and the kiln hold forth in a fiery debate. From
Barr's perspective, the kiln holds the upper hand. He loves the merging of
the planned with the happenstance, the illusion of his controlling the
process, and the unforeseen he discovers in the finished pots.
"It's exhausting and rewarding at the same time," Enzien Kufeld says. "You
can try to manipulate the flame on the piece and also even get an
understanding of what may happen with the flame, but you never know for
sure."
Tom McFall, executive director of the Alberta Craft Council, agrees. The
Craft Council recently mounted a show featuring the wood fired work of 21
Alberta potters. McFall describes wood firing as the "extreme version" of
working with clay because of the risks involved, and the energy the potter
has to put into it.
"The technical difficulties are magnified over gas or
electric firing," he says emphatically. "The length of the firing, the
personalities of the custom built kilns (many potters build their own),
and the role of chance all magnify the risks. There's a fine line between
magnificence and disaster."
It's that fine line, that twinge signalling approaching danger, that
attracts many potters to wood firing. It's a line that both the potters
and the flames can cross. Bob Reimer, a potter working in Calgary, argues
wood firing enhances rather than masks the subtleties of a carefully
considered piece. Parks-Legge uses less decoration on pots she's putting
in the wood fire kiln, leaving the flames a cleaner canvas for their work. For
Carol and Richard Selfridge, wood firing is the final step in the layering
of meaning and decoration that begins when they take up the clay for a new
piece. Richard calls it the multiple gesture. "We don't plan everything
ahead. We work right on the piece adding texture, design, colour," he says.
"Then we consign it to the flames," Carol continues. "We give up
control and let the kiln take over."
The relationship between the kiln and the potter, the give and take that
has the potential to produce exceptional, ethereal work, characterizes the
working lives of the established and emerging wood firing potters in
Alberta, and their relationships with each other. They share techniques
and glaze recipes. They fire together, sweating to feed the kiln, then
musing over the results, trying to capture with words and understanding
outside the kiln what has gone on inside it. "Firing with wood is a chance
to collect people around you to share your kiln," says Chaike, "to share
the experience of creating." The sense of community is strong here. "I
would not stop wood firing if there was no community around us," says
Kufeld. "But," she continues, "it would not be as rewarding."
Alberta potters teach at Medalta in Medicine Hat, at the well-known Series
at Red Deer College, and in other classes and studios all over Alberta.
They welcome travelling potters into their homes, and nurture ideas given
to them in the homes and by the kilns of other potters. They are part of
an international community. Alberta potters have worked at the Archie Bray
Foundation in Montana, for example, and are invited to workshops and
conferences from British Columbia to Japan. The strength of the wood
firing community in Alberta makes it a destination for established potters
from around the world. In Hythe this summer, Yasuo Terada from Seto,
Japan, returned to fire the kiln he built there just a couple of years ago.
If one community is the one they have with each other, another community
is the one they share with the people who buy their work. Part of the
appeal of wood fired work comes from appreciating a sophisticated
technique that doesn't discriminate between a purely functional mug and a
more sculptural piece: the fire baptizes them both with the same
transforming embrace. Wood fired work can be full and sensuous with melted
ash caught swelling in languid drips. It can be rough and pitted, the work
of the ash and the flame accentuating the marks left by a grainy clay
body, or the confident hand of the potter. "The layers are there for the
buyer to see," says Carol Selfridge, "you can go into it as much or as
little as you want." Marianne Scott, owner of Scott Gallery in Edmonton,
finds the appeal of wood fired work comes from its earthy, natural
qualities. "It feels like it comes out of nature," Scott says. "The clay,
the wood, the wood smoke, the textures, people really respond to it."
Many of Alberta's wood firing potters are recognized internationally, and
their work is in public and private collections around the world. The
finest pieces of pottery wood fired here show a strength born of the
vision of the potter and the power of the flame. Released from one to the
other, radiant with the flame's embrace, they glow long after the heat of
its touch has cooled. Wood fired pots have earned their strength. They
have come through fire.
Patricia Myers is a freelance writer and student of pottery in Edmonton.
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