Building and Naming of the Stargate

We have been making strides toward the construction of the soda kiln on our site. As I eagerly await the delivery of the firebricks, I wanted to post a few pictures of the process so far and tell the origin story of our Stargate.

In the Spring of 2020 we framed out a large rectangle for the concrete kiln pad.

The next step was to construct the shelter for the kiln. We found a company that designed kits for timberframe-style pavilions and ordered one to fit the concrete pad. The kit was delivered to our site, and we were eager to put it together. The company indicated that two people could assemble the kit. We quickly realized that it needed to be two people who had previously assembled one. The struggle to assemble the structure generated the name of what we now call the Stargate. Its origin story is as follows:

The instructions were to connect one header beam to two of the posts that were laying down, and then walk the posts upright. After that side was standing, one simply had to assemble and lift the opposite side, and then connect two more headers across the two archways. Easy peasy.

We worked hard and successfully attached the first header to two posts. Surely we had overcome the hardest part, and we set about lifting the header and pushing the posts upright.

It turns out that two average-sized adults without superhuman strength could not in fact dead-lift at least 1,000 pounds.

Happily, a few hours later three friends stopped by and were willing to help lift the posts. The five of us still were not able to lift the posts upright despite quite a lot of discussion on physics and strategy.

So we called in reinforcements. We sent out a call to several additional friends, inviting them to come to a “barn raising,” with the promise of tacos to reward the group’s efforts. Later that evening, after more discussion of physics and strategy, eight of us managed to set the two posts upright without sliding off of the concrete, toppling over in the opposite direction, or crushing anyone. As we stood back to admire our collective feat of strength, it dawned on all of us at the same time: This. Thing. Was. Massive. Someone (whose name has been lost to history) exclaimed “it’s a Stargate!” The arch that towered above us was large enough for a spaceship from another dimension to fly through. The header was now more than 15 feet off the ground, and the roof was going to be above that level.

The company that put together and sent the kit had not cut the posts to the length we had specified. Among many lessons we learned along this adventure, chief among them may be this: measure before lifting. All I could do was laugh, and declare that it was time for tacos. We were going to have to spend some time figuring out what to do next.

Upon reflection, a few things were clear. 1) The Stargate was too tall. At that height, it would barely shelter humans and the kiln from rain. 2) We were not going to be able to safely cut down the size whether the posts were upright or if we figured out a way to lay them down safely. 3) We needed professionals to do this job.

After some wrangling and negotiation, we were able to have the company send an installation crew.

It turns out that two people can do the assembly, and it helps a lot if they have experience and the right tools for the job. These fellas cut two and a half feet off the bottom of the posts and put it all together in a single day. I found it best to stay out of their way.

We made the extra lengths of post into end tables and a bench. And in the weeks afterward, we installed a metal roof and wired electricity.

Epilogue

After having heard the story and visited the Stargate, some dear friends found a plaque and sent it to us. And with its attachment to one of the posts, the Stargate’s construction was complete. I am looking forward to seeing what other-worldly effects it imparts to the pots that come out of the kiln it shelters.

Lost Ridge Serving Bowl and Cup Set

I previously wrote a blog post about materials I gathered from a friend’s place and the processes of mixing it into clay and throwing the pottery. I wanted to share a post with the finished serving bowl and cup.

The small brown speckles are subtle in the white clay. The glaze is translucent yellow that goes lavender where it pools.

I’m pleased with the results of the experiment, and look forward to further testing.

Natural Stamps Part III: Handles

I am thoroughly enjoying the stamp effects of grass seed stems that I gathered near a beach outside of Charleston, South Carolina. Because the stems are only slightly more firm than dried straw, the action of stamping coupled with the squeezing of the stem begins to take a toll on the dried vegetation.

A few months ago I gathered some bamboo with the intent of using segments as handles for pottery tools. The bamboo is narrow, but a perfect fit for these stems. I cut several lengths with a pruner and then sanded down the rough ends with sandpaper.

I inserted the stems into the bamboo, matching the widths of the interior of the bamboo to accommodate the different stems.

The bamboo minimizes the stress on the stems by supporting the stem through the directional force of pressing into the clay. The bamboo handle also eliminates the squeezing of the stem. I had initially planned to use epoxy to set the stems inside the bamboo. But the stems are surprisingly firm set several inches into the bamboo. Through use, I am also learning that the stems will eventually wear out, and being able to switch out a stem and reuse the bamboo handle is so much easier (and less wasteful) than throwing away an epoxy-filled length of bamboo each time.

Natural Stamps Part II: Gathering

I wanted to share more about the gathering of the grass seed stems that I am using as stamps. I am hopeful that seeing them in situ will spark inspiration and heightened observation of your surroundings.

The ornamental grasses are planted just a sand dune away from the ocean.

This stem is still green and holding onto some pods.

The stem at center is dried and has lost all but the last pod.

The seed stems emerge together from the center of the clump of grass.

After a round of gathering stems, there is a spectrum of live green to dried stems.

Detail of gathered stems.

In my next post, I will share how I added handles to these stems to support their stamping work.

Urban Ashes to Glaze

We recently had our chimney cleaned at the purple house. The process generated a bucketful of… nasty things and ash. We have never had a fire in the fireplace, so the ash could have been deposited anytime since the house was built in 1909. I had planned to ignore my hoarder tendencies and let the bucket of ash go; but the chimney cleaner left the bucket, and I realized I couldn’t pass up the raw material.

My lifelong hoarding habit provided the tools I needed to sift the ash and separate it from the random bits that were also in the bucket (sticks, nails, insulation…). Sometime along the way I had acquired a vintage flour sifter, and I also have a stack of metal paint cans purchased for the purpose of storing ash.

Vintage flour sifter

Definitely wear gloves and a mask when handling ash, as it is caustic

You may be wondering why on earth anyone would bother to sift wood ash. Ash is an important ingredient in many glazes used in pottery. The pictures below are details of test tiles combining different proportions of ash, clay and rock (feldspar). Ash helps clay to melt into a glaze, and in a reduction environment, the color of the glaze produced can range across green and blue.

In keeping with my interest in utilizing local materials in pottery, there may be no resource closer to home than the ash collected from your chimney. Natural materials can’t only be found in the wilderness; I now have a gallon paint can of sifted ash from the purple house, ready to be used in making glazes derived from this urban home.

Natural Stamps

I recently noticed some interesting dried stems in clumps of grasses at my in-laws’ home near the beach outside of Charleston, South Carolina. The stems were all that remained of the grass seeds that emerged from the grass, as most of the seeds had already fallen. I immediately suspected that they would make excellent marks on clay, and wasted no time in foraging a number of the stems to bring back to play with.

For years now I have wanted to make a stamp that would impress a crisp outline into clay while allowing a convex “button” to emerge, similar to a rivet. These stems appeared promising, but I was not prepared for how well they would accomplish my vision.

The organic outline of the impressions, the little bean shapes emerging from inside, and the subtle stippling on the raised area - all of it knocks me over. I could not be more pleased with this experiment, and I hope to use these natural stamps extensively.

The moral of the story isn’t to find this exact species of grass. I couldn’t tell you what it is or where to find it. But the lesson I’m taking from this experience is to always be on the lookout for things in your everyday life that can be brought into service of your creative pursuits. Especially if you can tie the materials back to a place that has meaning to you. Grass seed stems, leaves, rocks, sticks, shells… The world is full of inspiration if we remember to look.

Material from Lost Ridge

I recently gathered a small amount of material from a friend’s property to make some pots for her that would contain the material and memories of that space. It was a good opportunity to take some photographs of the process to share.

There was a drainage ditch beside the driveway where some red clay had eroded and settled in the ditch; using a rock I scraped the clay and filled about a third of a plastic sandwich bag. This allowed me to gather finer material than if I had indiscriminately used a shovel elsewhere on the property. Later on, I screened the material through a screen I had constructed out of wood scraps, regular window screen and a heavier duty screen.

I wanted to try using some of the red clay without a lot of organic material or large rocks disrupting throwing on the wheel. Once I had sieved some of the material into a somewhat consistent size, I added handfuls between slices of pre-wedged white commercial clay (182).

Next I wedged the clay to evenly distribute the Lost Ridge material and eliminate any air I may have introduced to the clay.

Air bubble revealed while wedging the wild material into the clay body.

Because I haven’t tested the Lost Ridge material, I am not 100% sure of how it will fire in a kiln. I therefore used a relatively small proportion of “wild” material with the commercial clay. If the material were to melt, I don’t think it would threaten the structural integrity of the pots. Lost Ridge is close to other sites where I have gathered materials, and this material is similar those. This is sandier than it is clayey, and I expect it to behave in a way that makes the clay body more coarse and adds some color via the iron content.

Once the clay was wedged sufficiently, I threw a lump on the wheel to make a cup.

I noticed midway through pulling up the wall that the wild material had added something that was spotting on the surface. I am eager to see if this characteristic carries through the firing, or if it simply burns out.

Once the form was thrown and sufficiently set up (dried to leather hard), I wired the cup off of the bat and inverted it to trim the excess clay from the bottom. This image of the freshly wired cup shows the distribution of the wild material.

I trimmed a small foot into the bottom of the cup, revealing more of the Lost Ridge material that had been obscured by the clay slurry during the throwing process. Rather than smooth the surface, I left evidence of the coarse material and how it drags through the clay during the trimming process.

I look forward to seeing how the Lost Ridge material influences the character of this commercial clay body, and I can’t wait to gift this cup and a matching bowl to my friend.

Greenware cup, trimmed and signed.