Wheel thrown and altered in obscene heat

During the past unseasonably moderate and delightfully long spring, I had a delusional idea that I would make and bisque pots on the screened-in porch all summer long. Given the heat, however, I've abandoned hope of being productive. Right now, six greenware wheel-thrown-and-altered (see below) oval boxes--my total home output since the DT-MSH/TC--are slowly warping as they half dry/half bake in the 100+^oF temps outside.* I could work in the basement, where it's cooler, but it's kind of gross having ten thousand camel crickets looking over my shoulder while I'm at the wheel. Someday I'll build a four-season studio in the back yard.

Incidentally, "wheel thrown and altered" is one of my favorite pottery catch phrases. Look for it in photograph captions in select pottery books and magazines. Under an image of an elaborate pot in the shape of, say, a perfectly proportioned nautilus shell or a sassy teapot or a Tyrannosaurus Rex, the accompanying explanatory text might read (simply, mysteriously, and uselessly) "wheel thrown and altered."

I'll come clean: the boxes above were each made with three thrown components--an ovaled wall, a ribbed lid insert (all six inserts were harvested from one thrown piece), and a flange to hold the lid in place--plus a tossed slab for the bottom. Voila: wheel thrown and altered.

*It could be worse. I was at Claymakers yesterday, where the gas kiln was running and the air conditioner was broken. When I left, the 99^oF outside air actually felt refreshingly cool.

Hotter than hot

Here's what the wood kiln at Cedar Creek looked like on Saturday before we bricked the door. Remarkably (though not unusually), we got all but one of our pots into the kiln.

Laura and Lisa started firing at 5am Sunday morning. By the time I arrived at 12:30pm, Teresa, Di, and Rob were also there, cranking up the heat. Lisa and Laura headed home, Deb arrived shortly thereafter, and we fired until 6:30pm--13.5 hours total to get the kiln up to cone 9, +/-.

Di and I started planning this firing on a cold, rainy day in February, considering possible weekends in April, May, and June. It's hard to remember, in February, quite how stinking hot and humid it can be in North Carolina in June. Sunday was about 97^oF in the shade, and we added wood and raked coals until the kiln was ~2300^oF. We all wore long pants, long-sleeved shirts, leather welder's gloves, and closed shoes to protect our skin from the heat.

Thus it was that I learned about the powerful magic of otherwise cloying sports drinks. We all became liquid processing plants, converting a steady intake of water and Gatorade into several gallons of sweat. We froze wet towels to wrap around our necks, and found occasional brief respite in front of an AC unit in a nearby studio workspace. I know I have a tendency to exaggerate, but I think we were lucky that no one keeled over.

Around 4pm, a thunderstorm suddenly blew in. Never has a change in the weather been more welcome in the entire history of humankind.

Despite the heat, it was still mostly fun, as hard work with industrious goal-oriented friends tends to be. Plus the misery of excessive temperatures fades in the cool air-conditioned comfort of the next day.

Stay tuned: we unload the kiln on Thursday.