There comes a time in ever potter’s career when you find yourself pushed to the absolute limits.
One problem with a glaze or under-fired kiln and you can watch all your blood sweat and tears crumble in your very hands.
This was me two weeks ago.
I got a message saying that some of my Clay 3D Printed works had broken in the kiln glaze firing.
I gulped down the worst-case scenario in my head and found my way to the studio.
Days before, South Africa had gone into a Nationwide Loadshedding – thanks to our corrupt government-controlled electricity provider, Eskom.
Many parts of the country were left in the dark and without power every six hours, for two hours and a half-hours at a time (I am not going to do the math).
Now, a large kiln needs a good amount of time to build up heat to get up to the correct temperature, right?
And for a glaze firing it needed to reach just under 1200 °C, right?
Well, it was a four-day long struggle for the studio.
Frustratingly the kiln would only get up to about 1000°C before the power would cut out again.
When the studio finally thought they had a gap with the kiln barely got up to heat, we all held our breath… but in my mind I knew the damage was already done.
The walls of my works were so thin, and because of air bubbles in the 3D Printed Clay, I knew there would be weak spots that could cause problems in an unstable kiln.
And I was right.
Most of the work had underfired and was riddled with cracks.
Some just came apart at the lightest touch, bearing sharp edges which had to be handled so delicately because they could easily slice your hand open.
Looking at all the destruction, I took a moment to myself and tried to hold back the tears.
With the thought of my portfolio showing nothing but a tower of broken work, I started freaking out because I had meetings with galleries scheduled for the following week.
Was I going to show up with nothing, or take photos of my broken work and have something?
With my mind all over the place I took some closeups, but definitely not my best work.
I then piled the works into boxes, piece by piece – each time I had to remember to breathe.
I kept trying to calm myself down, but the words ricocheting around in my head directed at Eskom I will not repeat here today.
I left the studio in a state of shock… all those artworks… gone.
Later that evening I got a message from a friend of mine who partly owns the studio where my works were fired –
She had taken the time to piece together some of my works and taken proper photos, ensuring that the cracks and major flaws were not visible.
Throughout my journey I had felt so alone as I experienced and explored this new way of creating, but when I saw those photos, I was overwhelmed with all the emotions one could feel, finally realising, I am not alone.
That act of kindness gave me the strength I needed to put together my portfolio – as incomplete as it was.
One work survived intact, which I decided to keep and has delicately been placed in our display cabinet at home.
The rest, I am not sure what to do with… maybe glue can fix some situations and they can become garden features.
I had a weird vision of a garden filled with all my broken work with plants and flowers growing out of them… so a garden project may be in my future.
The next works are in view, and I am starting to work on them next week.
I just needed a minute to feel all the feelings because to be honest, I was so angry.
My ENTIRE new collection was a pile of ceramic waste and these last few weeks have really tested my patience with things in this country not working.
We all deserve better.
With loadshedding still an ongoing reality I am going to keep at it and start again.
Lastly, I would also like to thank Eskom, our sponsor for today’s blog.