When I enrolled in the School of Fine Arts at Ohio State University in 1962, little did I know that it would lead to a life-long love affair with clay. The world of clay was so different then and so much smaller. Our text was Daniel Rhodes' "Clay and Glazes for the Potter," and there was little else out there. I just knew that I couldn't stay away from clay and the fun of taking a formless lump of nothing and turning it into something beautiful. It amazes me even more today how limitless the possibilities seem to be.

I apply terra sigallata to the bone dry pot and burnish it before bisquing. Each pot is then heated to about 1100 degrees (F) and pulled from the hot kiln with tongs. I have about 30 seconds to apply horsehairs one at a time so that they burn and deposit carbon markings. I attempt to control  the patterns, but some randomness is part of the beauty and unique quality. As the pot cools, I then spray it with ferric chloride, taking great care not to breathe the toxic fumes. At first the color is reddish orange and as the pot cools, the color becomes more and more yellow. The challenge is to control all this in a short period of time. The surface of the clay is not covered by glaze, but rather is enriched by the complex fuming.  

These  pots are fired to 2350 degrees (F) over about 10 hours and allowed to cool slowly. The glaze is made from the ashes in my woodstove and results in the typical ash glaze look of rivulets resembling the veins of a leaf. I love these subtle and earthy surfaces that are so similar to organic materials in nature. 

I simulate a pit firing with a 55 gallon drum. Sometimes I collect seaweed as I did when digging a pit on the beach and find it works just at well in the drum for making interesting patterns and subtle colors. Sawdust and other dry organic material surround the pot and then are made to either burn fast and hot for several hours before covering, or allowed to smoke slowly over about 24 hours. The pictured pot reminds me of the old weathered walls on buildings in Venice, and so I call it "Old Italy."

A bisqued pot is covered with a very thick, yogurt-like slip (clay slurry) and then immediately placed in the kiln. At 1600 degrees (F) it is removed with tongs and placed into a can with combustible materials. These catch fire from the heated pot and then a lid is put on to create a smoky atmosphere. The slip has hardened like an eggshell but has many cracks where the smokey carbon can be deposited into the clay, turning it black. When cool, the slip is peeled or chipped off to reveal a pattern of black lines that is different with each pot. It is an exciting process, but not always successful if the slip falls off too soon, or doesn't come off at all!