Schrödinger's pot

Until you open that door, anything is possible

I started this post before leaving on holidays. Somehow, however, when I sat down to finish it, I wrote and sent out this one instead.

As promised then, today’s post gives a snapshot view of the couple of weeks preceding our departure and touches on what I have been up to since we’ve been back. Mainly, though, it focuses on something I wish had not happened.

The brain is a complicated thing. As rational and logical as we may consider ourselves, we probably all have our moments of weirdness, let’s call them, our moments of “I know I should be doing that, but I’ll do this instead” or “If I close the kiln door now, maybe things will un-explode and be ok when I reopen it”.

We all have moments of self-sabotage and self-deception. Right?

Or maybe it’s just me…

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I had weeks, even months, to do certain things, non-urgent things, things that, at that point, really could have waited another two weeks (at least) until we came back, and yet… Two weeks before leaving on holidays became the time to do them.

For example, is two weeks before going on holidays the right time to, on a whim, start a collage project that takes up most of the dinning table space and a needs a gazillion craft supplies? YES!

my collage project

This started as an idea to keep our daughter busy on a Saturday we knew we had nothing planned and I thought she would love it. It turns out I was the one who loved it and kept at it well past Saturday. It was difficult to know when to stop, really, I could have gone on forever… It was so much fun I am sure I will be doing it again.

Round about the time I should be packing, I also realised it had been at least a week since I had last checked on the veg bed and so outside I went. The garlic is nicely peeking out and I am glad I went, because the fleece I had laid on the bed was weighing down on the green shoots. I loosened it and picked some weeds while I was at it. And then there was turning the compost — another task that needed my attention that moment and not one minute later.

Kitchen cupboard cleaning — another one that I threw myself at the evening before the flight, when I really should have been packing. Somehow, it felt like it had to be done. Isn’t it nice to come back home after two weeks away, and find the kitchen cupboard clean? Of course it is.

Why do I do it? Why delay packing? I could have been packed early in the day and had an easy and quiet evening and an early bedtime. But no. When I finally started packing it was around 10 pm (not before I reorganised and refolded all my t-shirts — true story, and I have the pictures to prove it).

But, the best of all, as I’m sure you will agree, happened one week before leaving on holidays… This beat everything, and, to be honest, as you will see, without it, this post wouldn’t exist. One week before leaving, it turned out, was the absolute perfect time to start a sculpting course and attempt to sculpt a human bust for the very first time.

Yes, I can see everyone is nodding… Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page.

I had found the Domestika course by Cristina Córdova a few weeks (months, it was months) earlier and, to be honest, had forgotten about it. I don’t know how I found myself on the Domestika site clicking through the course and printing the templates… Before I knew it, I was assembling everything and would probably have started right there and then if it hadn’t been time for bed.

I will not lie to you — I loved it. I loved making it, the whole process — from figuring out the templates, to rolling the thick slabs, all the way to the final touches. I found it fascinating to work on the face, how the simple addition or removal of a bit of clay could change the entire expression. The course is very good, I really recommend it, though I felt at times that it lacked some more detailed instructions. Still, I made my first bust and will be making more, in spite of what came next…

While we were away, the bust spent two weeks carefully wrapped in two layers of plastic, for all the parts to equalise and slowly dry. When we got back, I uncovered it and let it stand on the shelf to finish drying while I loaded the kiln. I even left it in front of the fire, in the living room, rotating it from time to time, for about two days before that. The bisque firing was going to be a slow one; aside from this rather large piece (it measures about 34 cm in height), there was a large platter and several flat rectangular panels/tiles. I’m not a risk taker in general and even less when it comes to firing curves.

When it no longer felt cold to the touch, I finally dared load the bust in, and closed the kiln. The firing took 13 hours — a slow climb to 1000 ºC — and then about another 18 to cool down to a temperature at which I could safely open it (about 95 ºC). It would take a few more hours before I was able to take the pieces out. But by then I knew. And suddenly, the rush that I always feel to empty the kiln after a firing wasn’t as strong as usual.

When I opened the kiln to take a peek inside, everything looked fine at first. But then I saw it… Something was not right, something had happened but the inside was still too hot and anyway I had an appointment in town to take my daughter to the hairdresser and had to leave.

“Maybe when we come back, and I take a proper look, and take things out, I’ll see that it’s not that bad…” I hoped. “Until I look properly, everything is still possible”. Riiiight. I closed the kiln and left.

I have no idea how Schrödinger would have felt had his cat really been in a real box, but I can tell you how I felt when I reopened the kiln and had to accept the harsh truth… suffice it to say that there may have been some tears. And some cursing. OK, fine! A lot of cursing.

I had only myself to blame, of course. I should have taken better notice of the thickness of all the parts, especially the hair, which I had achieved by adding bits of clay, one on top of the other, over and over. I may even, inadvertently, have created some air pockets. And then, when I made the venting holes, I probably didn’t make enough, and clearly didn’t make them in the right places…

I was of course being overly dramatic. Nothing else was damaged. Which was lucky, given all the debris as well as the rather large chunks of clay that had strewn themselves all over the kiln and the other pieces. If this had been a glaze firing I would have been in a lot of trouble. As things stood, I had a damaged bust, which had only been meant as a learning experiment anyway. The platter was fine, as were all the panels. Above all, the mugs from the workshop, being on a lower shelf, were untouched by the debris.

After I finally unloaded the kiln and cleaned up the mess inside, I turned to the bust. I put aside the larger chunks and the smaller pieces that had some colour. There were quite a few of them and, for a moment, I thought I would be able to put it back together. And I did try. But, after spending a few hours on it, I had to tell myself enough is enough. The bust is not fixable, I won’t put it back together. The box is wide open. Time to face the truth.

And so I moved to glazing so I can fire the kiln again, clean up, and start all over again.

The coming weeks will be tricky. I will need to balance my urge to be in the studio with the quiet yet increasingly more insistent call of the garden. There are beds to make anew, fresh compost to add, wood chips to spread and seeds to sow.

For now, I have one mug left to glaze and then I can start the kiln after everything has dried overnight. Hopefully, there will be no explosive surprises this time. However, as all potters know, once you close that door, the cat is both death and alive at the same time.

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Thank you for being here, for cheering my successes and for listening to me cry about my fails. Until next time, take care of yourselves, enjoy the last month of Winter (or Summer, depending on hemisphere…) and see you back here soon.

Sara xx

ps: Before you go and in case you missed it, Clay on my mind is having a promotion — if you upgrade your free subscription to an annual paid plan, I will send you, wherever you are in the world, a mug or an espresso set (beaker and saucer) of your choice (check the Etsy shop link below).

The price of the annual subscription is slightly lower than the value of those items, plus shipping will be on me, i.e. free! It would mean the world to me to send one of these out to you — there is a limited number, so don’t delay too much! Of course, if you prefer to support my work by purchasing any other item on my Etsy shop, I won’t hold it against you ;)

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If you would like to see my work

My Etsy store just got a bit of a facelift and I invite you to take a look at the new mugs and trays. I am also on Instagram, though more and more I wish I weren’t.

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