pyros

This is a video showing the basics of raku with great flare. Also, to see a master raku firing, see my dad's video (including a throwing demonstration) at http://odellpottery.com/videoall.htm .

According to wikipedia, the term raku is derived from the Kanji character meaning "enjoyment" or "ease". For fifteen generations, it has been the title and seal used by a dynasty of potters whose work formed the central tradition of Japanese raku. Raku has taken on new form this century as potter's begin to learn new ways to take some the the chance out of raku by including new means of control, while still retaining the quick, unpredictable spirit of this firing.



In this image, we can see down into one of Odell's raku kilns as the pots reach temperature. They are monitored by heat color, kiln time, and the movement of the crackle glaze on the top of the pots. Once this simple glaze boils and then smooths down on the surface, the temperature is hot enough. At that point, it is the firer's decision when to pull depending on how much melting and movement he wants from the glaze. The reactive copper is then exposed to combustibles and air to produce varying oxidation effect across the surface. Painting with fire and air if that's not too cheesy for you.


excellent work by Steve Hemingway.

This firing is fast, dynamic, and high risk for the pieces. The clay body must have a significant amount of grog to survive the snatching from the hot kiln. Although it seems intimidating, as long as you don't mind an occasional singed eyebrow and cracked piece, it is relatively affordable and approachable.

I am currently working on two large raku platters, so expect a video of my, I'm assuming entertaining, first attempt at this marvel.

The finish is sometimes harder than the start.

Why do I keep coming to this so late? Why am I so restless? I exhaust myself with long, long hours, almost all my waking hours absorbed in work, until my shoulders can barely hold up my head, then come home, dinner , read ceramics monthly and discuss life, ideas, firings, glazings, ambitions, and other mysteries with josh until neither of us can hold up our heads then both of us to bed. Him fast asleep and I'm wondering what it would be like to be blind. Eyes wide open in the pitch black, the only thing that I can see are the little LED's of the computer, so it's up and off to another work of another kind. lonely contemplation of the days passing and wondering what to do with the next set of waking hours. There are so many endeavors waiting for the attention. They all build in my head until I can't stand it anymore, until the input is to great and it's time for a little output. Then the progressive enlightening process of finding the start and putting in the hours and concentration to make all those floating blobs of ideas into a tangible finished reality. Finished seems to be the problem lately. So many projects begun, but nothing finished to hold on to. I think it's a little cowardly of me to be so close to finished on so many things. It takes guts to complete that last finishing process to call something to its end. A major factor contributing to this problem is the fact that I am a visitor in another's space. Working with someone else's scraps of materials and utility so that you can afford your own has proven to be quite taxing.

But screw that.

I'm the lucky one here. I'm the one getting paid to get to know patrons, getting paid to do the grunt work. I'm the one in a space with unlimited access if I'll only get the balls to ask. I'm the one with a lifetime of exposure and a fresh approach. I'm the one with a loving support who kisses me all day and tells me just when I'm most beautiful and why. So screw this self-loathing and self-pity given to me by my father's father's father's excuses and reinforced by those that came before my sweet josh. Screw the notion that I'm limited by the length of my bones and the weight of my chromosomes. My bones can reach into tinier harder to find spaces than yours I'll bet. They are a little set of tools depending on their configuration, willing to bleed, and patient to be steady and become stronger.

In fact, I've got plenty complete. I've got the light art. And I've almost completed throwing away all apprehension before I proceed to live like I should.

The light art is by josh and I. This raku pot is one of my dad's. All light art is by Lunomni, the name we've chosen for our collabrative art. All of the images come straight off of the camera, no digital editing. To see more, please visit his photography myspace: myspace.com/acrossthehallphoto

These are what started us down the road of creating, and there's no stopping now. I can't have a normal job. I'm no good at being a drone, I'm always late and always quickly learn that I'm smarter than all the bosses and then it's really hard to give a rip. I'd rather swallow my gummy pride and fear and finish the pieces I start. They are all a part of my existence and my learning and they're worth their weight in criticism, praise, and appreciation.

Tomorrow I'll go to school to finish chipping away the last little bits of this useful but sometimes blindingly strenuous degree in the bane of my existence aka organic chemistry. Then back across the long basin bridge, home to the warehouse with no shower or kitchen sink for a lunch and then to the only place that makes any sense to make more art that makes none to nobody, not yet anyway. Alright, a lttle to nonsensical to keep typing. better quit before I'm any further behind and crawl in too.

peace in pieces as always.

Sister centered

As she wedged her clay, I immediately noticed a similarity to my rhythms and style. I also noticed an immediate difference in her kneading from my father's. "With her girl hands," I thought. Then of course, struggle with 25 year old bats, scrap from a sink countermaker in the early eighties. They were free then and expensive now, so apparently slightly warped particle board is worth the struggle. So says our dad. Bat squished firmly she began on the smaller wheel. Almost centered, everytime, almost. Workable, I would say, but then I am an easily frustrated beginner. Our dad explains to her that she must only hold still and resist the bump using the stability of her waist and core. A little more centered now. Almost. But her girl hands wobbled just like mine. Not weaker hands, but softer, more accustomed to precision, speed, and grace, less likely to swing a hammer, but no less willing. This is what neo-feminism is about. A shift from a politics of neutrality to a politics of difference. Accepting our differences and reveling in our equality. Standing together. Peers. I believe us all to be equally competent at anything we put our minds to, but I believe that our aptitudes will be a result of utilizing our strengths and cutting sharp diagonals through our weakness and cowardess.

almost centered. more suggestions from dad. a little more slippery, a little less centered, and little more frustrated. Let me show you what I do with my girl hands I suggested. I tried from opposite her on the wheel. no good. explanation instead then: Listen Julie. This is what I imagine. When you slap the clay onto the bat, there are extra lumps spinning and bumping you from the outside, but no matter how you manipulate it, they are only adjustments. It helps me to consider that somewhere in this spinning mass, there is already clay that is still, spinning perfectly without wobble. Pull your arms in tight to your chest. They are better for holding than swinging. with each fist, compress the clay along one of it's two axes of rotation: top to bottom and side to side. Compress both of these towards the centered clay in the middle until they smooth themselves out. A strong hug to her chest, and slight acceleration and bam. centered.

I find that I am more inspired when I choose to embrace instead of fight my nature. Obvious maybe, but it seems to take more discipline sometimes to relax than to fight. Thus is a consequence of circumstance.

The following is a note I got from my sister tonight:

"you should think about the age of clay and how everytime you make a pot you're recreating history. that's what I think about. how I'm taking a piece of the past that got left behind and now I'm making use of it. wether it be something pretty to look at, something fun to play with, something to teach with, or something to contain something else.

also how it pretty much has a mind of its own and if you want it to move or do a certain thing all you ahve to do is ask it to....with your hands...and your lungs...I found that if you aren't breathing, then things don't work out.. so while I'm wedging clay I take time to meditate a little bit. and close my eyes and get centered. and when I'm getting my wheel ready I focus on breathing and doing thigs gracefully and when I center the clay I close my eyes and just ask it to expose the stillness of it's middle.


I'm rambling. love you bye "


She's a beautiful inspiration to me. If I could impart one more bit for her, it is this: no regrets. Why? Because there are no such thing as consequences. No reprecussions unsurvivable and unforgivable. There is only cause and effect. The cause for regret would generally be a decision which caused unwanted consequence, but i say don't regret these. Know that the cause was yourself. This self at that moment had all the tools and resources it could have, even if it wasn't your most admirable moment, it was you, you are your best. The effect is only a lesson which has probably already passed. Learn always. Live your life at your best and live with no regrets.