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Doug Casebeer

October 2006 – N.A.U.-
Flagstaff, AZ

Noborigama: History and Practice.
Focus on Climbing Kilns.

(download the msword file)

Over 30 years ago I built my first wood kiln; a large, tall catenary style with dual fireboxes on either side, it never got hot. In fact it barely got to cone 3.  I was greedy, my stacking chamber was too large and the fireboxes were too small.  I can’t quite remember what compelled me towards wood firing, probably something about free wood and free bricks. But I do remember what drove me forward.  It was sheer curiosity coupled with a desire to conquer failure. I don’t like losing.  Very early in my ceramic career, I discovered the value of learning through calculated risk.  Firing with wood is still an intentional path of self discovery.  Wood has taught me perseverance, tenacity, and the joy of mystery.  I am a life long learner, and wood firing teaches me something with every kiln load.

I have 3 wood kilns at the Anderson Ranch Arts Center, a small Neely style train kiln, a buorrybox cross draft, and a 3 chamber Karatsu style noborigama.  Our buorrybox produces wonderful glaze wares, while our new train kiln is teaching us more about cooling reduction for color.  My continued interest is in the unknown possibilities that my noborigama kiln can produce.  My initial enthusiasm was around how easy the kiln achieved temperature.  I could stoke with 6 to 10 large logs that required no splitting, chopping or cutting.  Think about that, no chainsaws, no axes.  It was satisfying to think I had done my homework and designed the kiln parts properly.  The only adjustments I might consider would be more open draft flow from chamber to chamber. For now, I see no drawbacks with the design.
Our noborigama kiln is about 140 cubic feet. We fire 4 to 6 times a year, using one cord of wood per day of firing. Our fuel is apple, fir, pinon, and spruce. The hard brick kiln was built on a 13 degree slope, ending with a 24 foot tall chimney.  Firing at 8,500 feet has taught me that kilns need 10 percent more air and flue flow, along with larger fireboxes.  Our kiln is fired for 3 to 5 days, with little reduction to 1200 degrees centigrade, (that is in the plus or minus cone 8 range), when a cooling reduction process starts.  All air sources are closed and the firebox is over stoked to bring the temperature down to 1050 degrees centigrade.  When the temperature bottoms out, the air is opened and the kiln is allowed to climb back to around 1200 degrees centigrade.  Rarely do we have to stoke again on the way up.   This cooling reduction goes on for 24 to 30 hours, with each up and down cycle taking about 20 to 30 minutes. After 30 hours of cooling reduction we climb to cone 9 or 10 for the final ash melt.  Why fire in centigrade?  The rest of the world uses it, and I had to learn or I wasn’t going to learn anything from Takashi.

My experience with climbing kilns dates back to graduate school at Alfred.  My recent education has been through the mentoring and friendship of Takashi Nakazato.  I suppose like most fortunate moments in life, we are rarely prepared or ready when they happen.  For the past 12 years Takashi has been working at the Ranch.  For 2 to 3 months every year, he shares his knowledge of wood firing and pottery making.  Takashi’s insatiable curiosity would define our relationship and studio research. His wisdom as an innovator, took me to Karatsu Japan, to study his kiln and studio practices.  Takashi’s pottery is well made, but not precise.  A bowl is bowl, never are two alike.  I responded to his assuring sense of grace and balance.  As an innovator in a centuries old tradition, Takashi would routinely break the rules.  I knew that there would be lots to learn from hanging around this guy.

 

After many firings with Takashi, I began to see the range of possibilities from a single kiln with multiple chambers.  It became apparent that we could control the ash deposits and temperature ranges in different chambers.  The first major epiphany came after one of our early firings.  We were all standing around admiring our pots, while Takashi Nakazato was systematically breaking all his pots.  His explanation was short and to the point, “Too much runny ash”.  The discussion that followed was an instant art lesson between what are clear intentions and undesirable results.  I was literally taken to the wood shed and given a licking!  Although it is has taken me years to clearly understand Takashi’s aesthetic, that moment of clarity made me stop to rethink the whole process; everything from choices of clays, slips, and glazes to wood fuel sources.  I realized there was more to firing with wood than just ash and flash.  The next epiphany came while watching a large stoke go through its second burn. I saw clearly how precisely wood kilns can be controlled.

To speak about wood firing in definitive terms, is like talking about results before they happen.  The true nature of a wood fired pot starts with the clay and extends into the forms, then is completed by firing process.  I think of my pots having a certain gestural spirit with a sense of casual elegance.  My pots are affected by the memory of landscapes and architecture where I have lived and worked.  The rims and profiles of my pots move and undulate in compliment to the flowing wood flame.  The wood flame is the paint brush that decorates my pottery.  That is where I begin.

Our noborigama kiln has 3 specific approaches to its 3 chambers.  The firebox or first chamber is for unglazed, raw clay surfaces, the second is for slips and stoneware type glazes and the third responds best to porcelain with celadon glazes.  My shapes and forms don’t change much from one chamber to the next, as much as the clay bodies, slips, and glazes do.  I make pots to be used. I make pots that revel in the pleasures of the everyday world.

Great wood fired pots have a strong sense of history and memory. They honor the past, are excited about the present, and contain enough mystery for the future.  For me wood firing and the layering of ash is a true metaphor for our lives.  The process is long and hard, and the surface is rich with complexities.  I certainly see myself in my work.  I have come to think of the surface of my work as intricate and compelling, yet quiet and contemplative.  I call it “Still Ash”.  Think of it as a sense of anticipation, layers of ash that are on the verge of flowing, but yet are smooth and soft.  That still energy is the point between fluidity and stiffness.  As if watching ice melt or a glacier move, you know it is going to happen, we can’t see it move, but it is. That is the moment of anticipated, quiet beauty.

A good wood kiln continues to teach, produce results, and still leave room for innovation and risk.  A good wood kiln will allow for discovery.  I watched in amazement once, while Takashi shoveled snow into the red hot kiln in an attempt to achieve cooling reduction.  The thought that day was all about how risk equals gained knowledge.  The majority of the 140 cubic feet of pots from that firing were discarded. Wood firing teaches us not to take our lives or our artwork too seriously.

Like the natural beauty that surrounds us, good wood fired pots compel us to look and look again.  I often think that any good wood fired pot has four issues to resolve:

  1. Good wood fired pots must first make you stop and look.
  2. Good wood fired pots must bring you close to them.
  3. Good wood fired pots must demand you pick them up.
  4. Good wood fired pots must get used again and again. 

The wood fired pot brings to me a narrative story, complete with place, time, and the characters involved with the firing.  Wood firing teaches me respect and tolerance. It is a lot like having children, we are not sure what they are going to look like, but we know we are going to love them.

I want to leave you with two thoughts that I consider relevant to my wood firing commitment.  I asked Takashi once what this is really all about, he responded with “My education is not over.  I am still searching for that elusive thing that I have not seen yet”.

And from the mind of another great thinker, Albert Einstien, “ The greatest experience we have is the mystery”.

 

Thank you.

Doug Casebeer
Anderson Ranch Arts Center
Snowmass Village, CO
USA