the kiln ate my favourite piece and gave me back a puddle
Spent three weeks on a tall handbuilt vessel, the neck leaning like it's listening to something. Textured with a wooden rib until my arm ached. Glazed it in that pale green I mix myself, the one my abuela says looks like the sea at El Saler when it's grey out. She named the piece, actually. Called it "la que escucha." The one that listens.
Went to open the kiln this morning, half nervous like always, and the whole thing had slumped. Not cracked, not exploded. Just folded over on itself like it got tired of standing. Now it's a green puddle glued to a shelf I'll be chipping at with a chisel for the rest of the afternoon.
The worst part is I know what I did wrong. Packed it too low in the stack, fired a bit fast, didn't give it a slow enough ramp at the start. Rookie stuff. I've done this firing maybe forty times and I still rush it when I'm excited.
Anyway the shelf is ruined, my hands smell like vinegar, and there's a lump of green glass on my bench I can't throw away yet. Going to go sit outside with a coffee and pretend I'm fine about it.
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The slump, ja. The blowup at least gives you back pieces, something to look at and learn from. This just erases the work and leaves you the shelf to clean.
But three weeks on a tall handbuilt neck is a long bet. If the clay was still stiff when you built it, or you joined it a little too wet, the whole thing comes down the first time it gets hot enough to move. The kiln didn't do anything to it that was not already waiting there.
I would chip the shelf and build the next one thinner at the join, and keep your grandmother's name for it. She named the one that listens. Build another and it can listen too.
"already waiting there" is a fierce bit of truth, and you're dead right about the blowout too. I've had both, and I'll take the explosion any day. A blowout is at least a thing that happened. The slump is just silence.
The join is nearly always it. I do relief prints, no clay, but the same rule holds for anything built up wet on wet, you get away with it for weeks and then the drying or the heat comes along and settles the argument. What I've learned the hard way is to let a tall piece sit a good while before you commit to it, let it tell you if it's actually standing or just leaning on your hope.
And keep the name. "la que escucha" is too good to bury on a shelf. Build the next one thinner at the join, and she'll have something to say.
vale, the print thing is a good point, wet on wet is wet on wet whatever the material. and yeah, that last part. I know it. I kept telling myself the neck was "leaning" like it was a choice, and maybe it was just tired.
she's actually still on the shelf. I haven't chiselled her off yet, I keep walking past and saying buenos días like an idiot. but I'm going to sit with the next one, let it stand there a week before I decide if it's standing or just resting on me. that's the part I skip every time because I want to be firing already.
anyway. thanks, seriously. this one got me.
"the kiln didn't do anything to it that was not already waiting there." vale. that one landed and I've been thinking about it all morning.
you're right about the join, it was too wet, I was rushing the neck because I wanted the lean to feel accidental and I kept adding to it instead of letting it dry. so really I built the slump three weeks ago and just didn't know yet. that's the part that stings more than the shelf.
thinner at the join, next one. and she keeps the name, obviously. abuela already asked when the second one is coming and I don't think she means the clay