News

Hello Everyone!

We are writing to you from the Nova Scotia Designer Craft Council show in Halifax. Lee is displaying his work from the recent firing, as well as some fabulous electric functional ware, and the parade is about to start...come and visit us on Spring Garden road and Queen street, across from the library downtown. The sun is peeking through clouds...

We will be heading back to New Brunswick on Monday. We will be immediately heading out to the woods to prepare for our next firing, to split and pile 9 cords of pine and tamarack, to live in the woods and make pottery in the shack. No more markets, we will be hermits for the next few weeks in preparation for the Queen Street West art crawl in Toronto from September 18th-20th, and gallery meetings.

A few select pieces from our recent 10-day firing will be available for purchase on our etsy store, burntnormal.

Congratulations to Lee for being nominated for the Lieutenant Governor's award in Fine Craft. Very exciting!

Love,

Lee, Yolande & Horus

Success

I opened the door and saw the tall slender 

lying lifeless, 

dead and white.

Dead as clay.

Split and gray.  

Slim streak of amber like a tear.  

I don't know my body now.  

We tore the rest of the bricks down, frenzied.

Here and there are the others.  Open.  Broken.

Some with a sad film of black ash, the possibility of colour,

some with patches of relief, windows of what might have been

a world, a landscape.

I step back and babble, angry.

Talking too much again.

I sat down on the platform, then

curled up, shuddering and sick.

Lee as always, silent 

to the point of madness maybe.

Say something.

I got up, and we continued to move the door away, 

the front wall, brick by brick.

what happened what happened what happened what happened what happened

Shelves of work, brown and gold

orange and brown and gold.

Every Iga pot is gone save one, a mediocre mockery.

Time.  Love.  Money.  Muscle.  Memory.  Sweat.  Love.  Time.  Fear.  Joy.  Hope.  

Everything is gone?

Not everything is gone.  

Try this, he says.  

Gold.  Wheat.  Chaff.  Summer.  Gold.  

Three small cups.  Brightly textured, a green stream.  Falling rain.

There are many beautiful things here.  Tiger tokkuri.  Fire-kissed cups that fit our hands like gloves.  Two gorgeous metal-purple tsubo.

***

In my dream, I saw you mirror winter and at once all seasons, all together.  Snow melted in rainbow flow over the curves of your body.  In my dream, your bodies were all dreams of diamond snow; impossible, austere, awash in atmospheric blue, cyanic.  Ultramarine.  I dreamt of ice blue azure rivers of pure colour, blue within blue within cerulean within opalescent blue. 

***

There are many beautiful things here.  Honey-dusted tawny vases.  Flaxen cups and ochroid teabowls.   

The mood lifts a little and we strive to balance thankfulness and self-critique.  To call this firing a failure fully, is to deny the many beauties.  However, one-third a kiln load of work is no success.  

We re-assess.  We re-examine the firing.  In hindsight, everything was wrong.  Some things were wrong.  Nothing was wrong.  

This was the firing of misinterpretation.  Be more open, be more closed.  Close the damper.  Talk to me.  We underestimate the draw.  We overstate the flame.  We ignored the coal bed. We forget to see, to look, to heed.  We forget to pray.  We forget who is in charge here.  We miss the deeper meaning.  

Oh Hell.  Oh Buddha.  

My heart is breaking.  

Why do we keep going?

Because we have to.  The continuation is the work.  Dedication is the way.  The failure is the tenacity is the success.  We say Yes.  I do.  I do.  I do.

Thanks

Oh Dear.

I have been dreading this a little bit, due to the extensiveness of this list, and the risk of leaving anyone out...there are more of you out there, to be sure, but one has to begin...

I'll be adding to this list, I'm sure.

Even before we crack the kiln to see the results of this firing, we want to acknowledge 

you

we could not have done this without you.

Alex: Auntie extraordinaire to the utmost...and, well... you know.  I can't really get into it here.  Too much, actually.  Full out, every single day.  My little sister.  I love you.

Quercy:  You have seen it all, (and the worst of it too) and you keep coming back to make this happen.  Thank you.  Not only for your incredibly hard work, but your friendship, your therapy, your uncle-iness (clearly, you love him) and your crits!  We WILL be in France...sometime soon, to give back.

Les: Years of energy, friendship, enthusiasm, wood-piling, FUN (of course) and landscape design.  We love you Les.

Erin:  Wild passion, sweetness, mad talent.  You put so much love and dedication into that November firing of...pain.  So few can hack the full experience.  Firings really are more fun when its not freezing cold though...We missed you this time Erin!

Philippe: You came, you saw, you worked, you came back.  Amazing!  Thank you for your generosity, your engagement, your ideas, your openness, your curiosity.  We're getting it together, slowly but surely.  You're always welcome.  We look forward to seeing your kiln!

Andrew:  Years of help.  Years of support.  Your toes.  We're sorry!  Thank you.

Jay:  Your chilled out vibe, and your kick-ass work ethic, splitting wood, piling wood and stoking...indispensible.  Thank you SO much for saving us, Jay.  It was awesome to get to know you more. 

Laurel:  A feast when we needed it most, and effortless, expert stoking, not to mention the all-nighter hangout chat that I needed.  I'm really glad we're friends.

Jenny:  I am so glad I found you.  I love that the kiln has captured you.  We appreciate all your hours of work, wood-piling, cleaning bricks, night-time fire tending, and of course, stoking.   It takes real courage to stoke for the first time, on the second-last day in front of 1300 degrees of white heat.  Thank you for everything.  And chateau Simms was WAY better than we expected :)

Jeff:  Thank you for stoking and letting us get some sleep!

Phil:  For your quiet, patient, stoic splitting and piling help in the dark rain, many thanks.

Amy:  It was wonderful to get to know you.  We'll be kidnapping you lots come September.  Thank you for your hard work!

Norman:  We called you out of the blue to ask to borrow your woodsplitter...and without it, we would have been sunk.  Thank you.

Mike and Crystal:  This wonderful couple called us after reading the article in the paper about our stolen woodsplitter.  You offered us the use of your woodsplitter, and for your generous gesture to perfect strangers, we are so thankful.  You saved this firing!

Mandy:  For your encouragement, your support and all of your letter-writing and proposal help--usually at the very very last minute--we are so grateful.  Not to mention being an amazing friend, and midwife.

Ryan and Lindsay:  Ryan, that welder's coat literally saved our skin.  Thank you for always being there for us when it comes to deadline crafts council bus stop pickups--and drop offs.  And Ryan and Lindsay, thank you so much for putting us up, and putting up with us at your place so often.  

Tegan & Leland:  Too much to say, really.  Beloved friends.  Incredible support through bad behaviour, tough times, whole foods and everything.  You are family.  We love you.  We are so excited to embark on the new trip.

Grandma Stacey:  Mum, I love you.  You have been more supportive than I could ever imagine.  Everything.  You know.  

Gramps:  I miss you Gramps.  You are the best Grandpa in the world, bar none.  We could not have done any of this without your support, financial and otherwise, for the past 28 years.  I love you.

Dad:  Thank you.  I love you.

Andrew & Linda:  Land, wood, woodsplitters, quiet support, patience.  Andrew, we're still talking about your splitting lesson.  Wow.  

Toni & Lori: Thank you so much for your support!  Come and check out the kiln sometime...

Allison & Clare:  Thank you for your continued support and interest in the process.  We have so appreciated your sense of community spirit, and your dedication to arts in New Brunswick.  

Gallery 78:  Thank you for almost ten years of nurturing Lee's talent, financial support, and believing in his dream!

Again, this is by no means a complete list, there are countless others who have helped during previous firings over many years...

We look forward to sharing the love...

Lee & Yo

Waiting

The firing is done.  We sustained the blaze for ten days, the longest firing yet in the Little River Anagama.  We went through so much to make this firing happen, and as usual, despite our constant state of dis-organization, friends arrived at exactly the moments when we felt we couldn't continue--exhaustion, dehydration, overwhelm, etc.  Horus was fully participatory in every aspect of this project, from the rebuilding of the kiln, to splitting 9 cords of wood, to firing for 10 days...and although this was sometimes challenging, we would never have it otherwise.  

As could be expected, it took us a little while to get to know the kiln as a straight anagama.  There was an element of mystery, and also, a tinge of fear.  Is it going to work?  Lee was scared, and brave.  After a few increasingly disappointing firings prior to this renovation, as well as the issues surrounding Lee's recovery from major surgery and the ongoing managing of his arthritis, we knew we were taking a risk, but also embarking on a grand adventure.

On the last day of the firing, in the afternoon, everyone had left, and I put Horus to sleep in the tent.  I had been stoking earlier that day, and it seemed as though the kiln wanted more wood at each stoke to really maintain a reducing atmosphere.  The eastern white pine was burning immediately upon being tossed over the threshold, but on day ten, we were finally building up some coals in the firebox, while the iga pots and cups at the front of the kiln were evidently dripping, sloppy, glistening with natural ash glaze.  We were able to maintain reduction, signified by heavy opaque black smoke from the chimney, piri piri flames (post-secondary ignition of gases) leaping from the blowholes, and more of the same from the chimney, which would erupt with the sound of thunder, while simultaneously, the sky frequently opened with its own fulminations.  When Lee took over stoking that afternoon, everything was cranked a notch higher, and with every stoke, the chimney went off with furious flame.  Dark came on, and we continued.  Every crack between the bricks gushed with white fiery licks, and the entire structure--the site even--shuddered with mad wet heat, emanating, heavy, illuminating us and everything.  The energy rose to the apex of the last stoke, during which Lee and I crazily double-stoked the kiln, and scrambled for the kibuta, the final technique that translates literally from the Japanese as the "wood-pig method".  Kibuta involves crazily jamming the stoke entrance with wood split to one-inch thick, one foot-long sticks while the chimney ignites.  This method induces a massive final reduction which will hopefully bring out the most dramatic colour and texture on the pots, and the variations that will give our pots the profound character we hope to reveal.  

As if being filthy and exhausted for days on end is not enough, our ultimate task consisted of, immediately upon finishing the kibuta, sealing all of the angry red cracks of the kiln with newspaper drenched in slip that we mixed quickly in a large plastic bucket.  Giggling, giddy, panting, and covered in wet clay, soot, dust, and muck, Lee and I raced around the front of the kiln and to the blow-holes, throwing handfuls and rope-ey mounds of slip/paper onto every opening of the kiln which would immediately hiss and fizzle as the cool clay met hot brick.  

We ran up the hill to the top of the short chimney, and defiant and fearless, Lee cut off the violence of the plume of fire with the damper, slicing through red, orange, yellow and white.  Then we watched the slender whippets of blue flame snap and change, folding themselves into origami creatures of the night until they faded out.  Sitting with the quiet, we were pensive, and, as always, a little sad to see the end.  

Now we sleep, and wait.  Only a few days remain until the kiln is cool enough to open.  The thrill and anticipation is better and worse and more exciting than the best Christmas morning you can imagine.  

We will keep you posted.  

Yo & Lee