My kiln journey / face your fears

As some of you may know, I have been working on fixing a kiln for about two years now. No, I had no idea where to even start and yes, I am brand new to electrical work! And if you are wondering how exactly to face your fears, listen to this beloved song from one of my all-time favorite shows while you read! :p

In 2023, I was looking for a kiln on Craigslist, with no real plan as to where to put the damn thing, let alone how to fire it. I found one for $1500, which is a pretty good deal - kilns are upwards of $5k brand new and at the time, that was a tad more than the grand total in my business checking account. I knew I needed to invest in one, however, if I were to eventually fire on my own and build the studio into something bigger than an 80 sq foot garage project.

I emailed the person selling it, and we chatted on the phone. Once she realized I was Waveform, she said, “Oh, I’ve heard of your studio. You know what? You can just… have it.” I was shell-shocked. To someone with a steady 9-5 and a light pottery hobby on the side, a $1500 kiln may not seem like a lot, but for me, it was half of my capital. Tears filled my eyes. “What!!! Why?!” She told me she liked what Waveform was about, and that she wanted to support fellow queer community. I was floored, and accepted. The kiln came with all the furniture, too (posts and shelves, not literal wee furniture).

Next I had to figure out how to get it, and where to put it. “Just keep it at my studio,” my friend Matt said casually. He runs Kids ‘n’ Clay in Berkeley… where I got my first pottery-related teaching job working with kiddos in 2015. I rented a truck, and asked around for help… and two of my regulars at the time, Meghan (who designed my logo) and Antonia (who runs her own business, Piscola Mami!) offered to help out. Antonia and I drove down to Palo Alto and picked up the kiln (and a ton of bricks, which Matt later used for his garden). Meghan helped me unload the truck when we were back in the Bay, and boom, suddenly I had a kiln!

The elements were a little funky (the curly things that heat up the kiln) so Matt taught me how to use a blow torch to heat them up and press them back into the channels in the kiln brick. Get used to the phrase “Matt taught me how to…”

A DIY kiln

After I fixed the elements and rewired some of the connections in the kiln, we tested it… and it blew Matt’s circuit. Whoops. Luckily no one was touching it, and nothing else got damaged. But it meant something was wrong, and we had to figure it out.

Could I have hired someone to handle this in a day? Sure I could. But then I wouldn’t have an intimate understanding of each of the kiln parts, or the hard-earned self-compassion that comes when you take YEARS to complete a project. I like to think that sitting down at the end of a long arduous hike is more satisfying then zooming past in a rental.

I would come by and work on the kiln, and Matt would teach me the difference between 12 gauge and 16 gauge wire, or how to use self-tapping screws, or how to map out a circuit so you can better understand all the parts.

We took apart the original set up, and it was clear that the Bartlett computer was shot. We got a fancy touchscreen (a TAP digital kiln controller), and then things escalated from there… because the metal enclosure the kiln came with wasn’t really right for the new computer. “Let’s build a new one!” Matt said, again, in a rather casual way. I looked at him blankly, but after you know someone for a decade, and really witness what they are capable of (this guy taught me how to build furniture, use a drill properly, pour plaster, and about 1,000 other things), you just kinda go with it.

Fabricating a controller box

This led to about 8 months of fabrication. I learned how to cut metal with a jig saw, how to drill into metal (steel vs. alumninum, what a trip). I messed up ALOT. Like constantly. But I also got more confident. And more logical. I thought through designs on paper, tested them on wood, then went for it with metal. I like… kind of understand how to wire… stuff! I know about designing a harness, or setting up a terminal. All through this, Matt was available to help me, troubleshoot, encourage and remain totally unphased when I was in a bad mood about messing up (which for a while, was 90 percent of the time. I know… such a different Caty than who you might have experienced in the studio!)

We measured out where to put things, and created a box to house the transformer, mercury relay, computer, thermacouple, power to the kiln and power to the wall - as well as the fuse, pilot light and on/off switch. That took… a while. Cutting metal is a whole other ball game (LOUD AND UNFORGIVING), and electricity isn’t exactly an intuitive concept for me.

There were so many little details that tripped up the process, and I must have taken every thing apart at least three times…. per thing. I got better at stripping wire, troubleshooting design flaws and deciding when to set down my tools, grab a snack and come back another day.

The fear part

There is some fear attached to kilns for me. I have been loading and unloading kilns since I was 14, but I have a slightly fraught relationship with firing … the first time I ever fired a kiln unsupervised, I accidentally did Cone 6 instead of Cone 06… and all the kids’ work was shattered. It’s like the difference between softening butter in the microwave at 30% heat for 30 seconds and blasting it on high for two minutes. Not good. This is a thing many potters in their lifetime do by accident… but I really internalized it. And then I avoided it.

Since then, I shied away from actually setting off a kiln - I’ll load it, and then mysteriously start doing another task while a colleague walks in and pushes the buttons to finish the job. I do not. Want. To mess up. Again. LISTEN to me, not taking my own advice, not listening to the core tenant of my teaching, that mistakes are essential. Well, in my defense, a 1,000 degree mistake feels a little different than a pound of clay going off the rails.

But in avoiding it, it definitely became a THING.

An anxiety inducing, heart-rate increasing, THING. Where my mind goes blank and I couldn’t confidentaly define 05 vs. 5 if my life depended on it. This THING has come into play now that we are ready to test the kiln…

But luckily, we all have THINGS… and there are people that help us along the way. The kiln has been tested a few times these past two weeks and I’m excited to share that I can now start using it regularly for Waveform work! Woohoo!

A patient (present) teacher

I feel very lucky to have a mentor in my life who is as neutral about my baggage as he is determined for me to succeed. (That’s his cat Gigi, by the way) Having a mentor and friend like Matt, who is always plugging away at his own studio, with his own challenges, who is so very present in his own space, is incredibly nourishing and inspiring. As a small business owner in the arts, having a colleague, mentor and friend in the same industry means the world.

I never thought I would be able to make my own controller box, or fire a kiln again without laying awake all night sweating. Yet here I am, and it’s thanks to a patient and present teacher.

If you got this far, this is your sign to try the thing you don’t think you are capable of. It could take you years, but you can do it. You can do anything with time, determination, and someone cheering you on. Ask and you shall receive; I believe in you!!!!

Cool, on to glaze making - time expand Waveform’s palette!*

*This may take a few years. HAH