The kinship of the kiln

It’s trial by fire as two friends stoke a giant wood kiln for 72 hours, day and night, tending their art and bonding over sleepless nights and sweet anticipation

By Shannon Wells

The Gresham Outlook, Nov 16, 2007, Updated Oct 30, 2009

This wood-fired kiln on the property of local potter Bob McIlhattan needs to be stoked 24 hours a day for the duration of a pottery firing, but it rewards those doing the night shift with short displays of shooting flames, for a giant candle effect.

Shanda Tice / The Outlook

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A small steel door opens. The blast of heat and glowing light is intense, even from several feet away. Three or four 30-inch logs are carefully, yet quickly placed on the grating within. Temperature gauges are checked. A brick is occasionally removed or inserted from the huge box of blocks to regulate airflow or take a peek inside.

And so it goes for 70 hours.

As much as the notion of tending a wood-fired pottery kiln on a fall weekend may appeal to the Early American country craftsperson within us, the reality is not all Norman Rockwell imagery. Building and maintaining a 2,450-degree heat to glaze clay pots takes its share of skill and sweat.

“It gets pretty hoppin‘ through the evening. You never really sit down for more than 10 minutes at a time,” said Bob McIlhattan, standing by the 115-cubic feet brick kiln in his Rugg Road back yard.

“It’s a more labor-intensive way to fire,” echoes Ron Linn, 49, a pottery teacher at David Douglas High School. “It takes a good deal of labor and energy.”

On a chilly Friday evening in early November, the burly, bearded McIlhattan, 58, talks pottery as the lankier, ballcap-wearing Linn diligently monitors and stokes the intensifying kiln fire. If the work balance seems off, it’s because McIlhattan’s shift is yet to come. He will relieve Linn at 11 p.m. and remain until dawn — his favorite time to be there.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” said McIlhattan, a retired computer network administrator and mechanic. “There’s no radios or anything going, so you can listen to the kiln.”

This is the fourth time the pottery partners have enjoyed the ritual of loading, firing, tending and unloading the kiln since they built it, with the help of other potter friends, a couple years ago. McIlhattan, who began dabbling in clay around 1983, met Linn in 1992 when he took a pottery class from him at Mt. Hood Community College.

Fifteen years of bonding helps when putting one’s artistry in the hands of others. With the outcome of 300 clay pieces from five artists on the line, those entrusted with kiln-watch duty carry a heavy load. Two people are always on duty. Linn’s son, Chance, McIlhattan’s daughter, Elin, and potter friends Robin Hominiuk and Jane Prideaux all chipped in this year.

“It’s a trust issue,” Linn said. “When you’re turning over (your shift), you want to feel like, ‘Hey, I know Bob’s gonna fire the kiln in the best way possible.’

“You want to maintain a regular rise in heat,” Linn explained, “of about 100 degrees an hour. If you lose focus, it could affect the look of the pots. And you want them to look good.”

The look is achieved not only through heating clay, but to the extent that wood ash fuses on the pots to form a glaze. The finished pots will be available for sale on December weekends at McIlhattan’s Seven Cedars Woodfired Pottery workshop.

While kiln-stoking shifts are relatively quiet, it takes virtually a village to start the process. Nearly a full day is devoted to loading the kiln. With four to six cords of custom-cut wood gathered and the brick side-hatch removed, the clay works are handed to Linn. He has just enough room to kneel and crawl as he carefully fills every conceivable space within.

“Our children help with wood and loading, my wife Dawnelle helps cook meals,” the Portland resident said. “It’s a community event.”

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