Experiments with local materials like soil, rocks, and clays used as slips and inclusions forged a path to achieving this artist’s desired results out of an electric kiln.
I spent my foundational years as a potter learning at a studio with access to different kinds of atmospheric firings and came to expect the transformation of a buff clay body into a toasty, speckled surface and the resulting rich, earthy hue of glazes. So, nothing prepared me for the disappointment that followed when a move to Texas in 2003—and the decision to establish a home studio—meant that the only accessible firing type was cone-6 oxidation firing. As I started testing glaze recipes in this new setting, I soon came to realize that without the magic of reduction, my glazes looked flat, static, and extremely predictable.
With only an electric kiln at hand and no possibility of accessing atmospheric firing, I started to feel frustrated. Fortunately, right around that time, I came across an article in Ceramics Monthly, “A Wood-Fired Look from an Electric Kiln” by Richard Busch. That article sparked an epiphany: in order to get the results I was striving for, I needed to actively orchestrate the look because the kiln would not do it for me. Since my clay could not get toasty without reduction, my first quest was to find a dark clay body that I liked. After much testing, I settled on Standard Clay Company’s 266, a clay body that darkens to an almost black hue in cone 6 oxidation. I began to spray my glazes, highlighting some areas with color while slowly feathering the glaze to blend into the areas on the piece that were deliberately left unglazed. This gradient, moving from concentrations of color and slowly blending into the black of the unglazed clay body, created a dramatic variation that gave the illusion of atmospheric firing.
Uncharted Territory and Experimentation
As I matured as a potter, I found myself being increasingly drawn to the rustic, organic surfaces of wood-fired pottery. An opportune visit to the ceramic district of Yingge, Taiwan, in 2015, and the resulting immersion in the sublime beauty of anagama-fired work, served to deeply reinforce this aesthetic within me. I didn’t know back then but this was to be a pivotal moment in the trajectory of my clay journey. Back in my studio, I recall being restless and dissatisfied with the work I was creating; I longed for my pieces to have the earthy, rustic quality of wood firing but didn’t have the slightest notion as to how to create that look within the constraints of my electric kiln.
One day, while scrolling through Instagram, I chanced upon Mitch Iburg’s work and was instantly drawn to its simple, rustic beauty. I was intrigued by his process of incorporating indigenous clay and minerals into his pieces. That was exactly the inspiration I needed. I started experimenting with soil, wild clays, and crushed rocks collected from around my neighborhood. I was in uncharted territories and didn’t know exactly how to proceed, so I tried everything that came to mind, from wedging these inclusions into my clay body, mixing them into slips, and brushing them onto leather-hard pots to layering them on bisque pots and adding accents of sprayed glazes. I had tons of failures and a few successes, but those few successes then served as stepping stones for the next series of experiments. I started to think of this problem in terms of variables and their impact on the surface. In a wood kiln, there are variables like flame and ash that help create dramatic surfaces. The electric kiln, on the other hand, is designed to follow a schedule to get to a preset temperature. If I could somehow introduce more variables that would interact with the glazes at peak temperature, then that could possibly lead to more variation. This hypothesis has since become the premise behind all my experiments.
Adding Variables in Stages
I introduce variables in different ways and at different stages of my making cycle, restricting them to the exterior of the piece so as not to compromise vitrification. Sometimes, freshly thrown pots are sprinkled with a variety of dry clays to create a variegated surface, other times leather-hard pieces are layered with a combination of wild clay and crushed rocks. Plain bone-dry pieces are sometimes brushed with a red or white slip and crushed rock-like calcite. At the bisque stage, the surface is built by brushing layers of different“rock glazes” (which I explain below), wild clays, and ash.
All the rocks and soils/wild clay that I work with aren’t sourced from any supplier but are samples that I pick up during my travels. At a given time I don’t have more than a small Ziploc bag’s worth of a particular material, just enough to test and apply to maybe half a dozen cups. I collect the ash directly from our fireplace.
When working with rocks and foraged material, I only apply it to the outside of a piece. The interiors of all functional pieces are lined with a durable, food-safe glaze. On the exterior where the “rock glaze” is applied, I normally spray multiple glazes, which promotes variation and makes the piece safe for daily use.
When using crushed rocks on bisqueware, it is not my goal to melt them into a glaze, but rather fuse them onto the side of the piece so that the grainy texture is preserved. To do so, the rocks are crushed with a hammer, screened with a kitchen sieve, and mixed with kaolin and Gerstley borate. This mixture, which I refer to as a rock glaze, is brushed or sponged onto the piece’s exterior. As rock glazes made from different types of rocks are sponged on and accented with dabs of wild clay, a lot of variables are introduced. Finally, the pieces are sprayed with a combination of glazes and ash to highlight some areas. Some pieces are fired multiple times, adding layers of glaze and ash between each subsequent firing and slowly building on additional variation.
As I journey further on this path of experimentation, exploring the interaction between different variables and their effect on surface variation in cone-6 oxidation, I am grateful for the timely guidance I received from fellow artists in the form of a magazine article and knowledge shared on social media. I sincerely hope that sharing my journey of exploring the possibilities of electric firing will benefit others.
the author Shikha Joshi is a studio potter based in Round Rock, Texas. Born and raised in New Delhi, India, Joshi learned ceramics through community classes and workshops after moving to the US in 1998. Not having had a formal education in ceramics, Joshi spends long hours in the studio experimenting, pushing boundaries, and learning what the ceramic materials can teach her. Learn more on Instagram @potterybyshikhaand www.potterybyshikha.com.
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Experiments with local materials like soil, rocks, and clays used as slips and inclusions forged a path to achieving this artist’s desired results out of an electric kiln.
I spent my foundational years as a potter learning at a studio with access to different kinds of atmospheric firings and came to expect the transformation of a buff clay body into a toasty, speckled surface and the resulting rich, earthy hue of glazes. So, nothing prepared me for the disappointment that followed when a move to Texas in 2003—and the decision to establish a home studio—meant that the only accessible firing type was cone-6 oxidation firing. As I started testing glaze recipes in this new setting, I soon came to realize that without the magic of reduction, my glazes looked flat, static, and extremely predictable.
With only an electric kiln at hand and no possibility of accessing atmospheric firing, I started to feel frustrated. Fortunately, right around that time, I came across an article in Ceramics Monthly, “A Wood-Fired Look from an Electric Kiln” by Richard Busch. That article sparked an epiphany: in order to get the results I was striving for, I needed to actively orchestrate the look because the kiln would not do it for me. Since my clay could not get toasty without reduction, my first quest was to find a dark clay body that I liked. After much testing, I settled on Standard Clay Company’s 266, a clay body that darkens to an almost black hue in cone 6 oxidation. I began to spray my glazes, highlighting some areas with color while slowly feathering the glaze to blend into the areas on the piece that were deliberately left unglazed. This gradient, moving from concentrations of color and slowly blending into the black of the unglazed clay body, created a dramatic variation that gave the illusion of atmospheric firing.
Uncharted Territory and Experimentation
As I matured as a potter, I found myself being increasingly drawn to the rustic, organic surfaces of wood-fired pottery. An opportune visit to the ceramic district of Yingge, Taiwan, in 2015, and the resulting immersion in the sublime beauty of anagama-fired work, served to deeply reinforce this aesthetic within me. I didn’t know back then but this was to be a pivotal moment in the trajectory of my clay journey. Back in my studio, I recall being restless and dissatisfied with the work I was creating; I longed for my pieces to have the earthy, rustic quality of wood firing but didn’t have the slightest notion as to how to create that look within the constraints of my electric kiln.
One day, while scrolling through Instagram, I chanced upon Mitch Iburg’s work and was instantly drawn to its simple, rustic beauty. I was intrigued by his process of incorporating indigenous clay and minerals into his pieces. That was exactly the inspiration I needed. I started experimenting with soil, wild clays, and crushed rocks collected from around my neighborhood. I was in uncharted territories and didn’t know exactly how to proceed, so I tried everything that came to mind, from wedging these inclusions into my clay body, mixing them into slips, and brushing them onto leather-hard pots to layering them on bisque pots and adding accents of sprayed glazes. I had tons of failures and a few successes, but those few successes then served as stepping stones for the next series of experiments. I started to think of this problem in terms of variables and their impact on the surface. In a wood kiln, there are variables like flame and ash that help create dramatic surfaces. The electric kiln, on the other hand, is designed to follow a schedule to get to a preset temperature. If I could somehow introduce more variables that would interact with the glazes at peak temperature, then that could possibly lead to more variation. This hypothesis has since become the premise behind all my experiments.
Adding Variables in Stages
I introduce variables in different ways and at different stages of my making cycle, restricting them to the exterior of the piece so as not to compromise vitrification. Sometimes, freshly thrown pots are sprinkled with a variety of dry clays to create a variegated surface, other times leather-hard pieces are layered with a combination of wild clay and crushed rocks. Plain bone-dry pieces are sometimes brushed with a red or white slip and crushed rock-like calcite. At the bisque stage, the surface is built by brushing layers of different“rock glazes” (which I explain below), wild clays, and ash.
All the rocks and soils/wild clay that I work with aren’t sourced from any supplier but are samples that I pick up during my travels. At a given time I don’t have more than a small Ziploc bag’s worth of a particular material, just enough to test and apply to maybe half a dozen cups. I collect the ash directly from our fireplace.
When working with rocks and foraged material, I only apply it to the outside of a piece. The interiors of all functional pieces are lined with a durable, food-safe glaze. On the exterior where the “rock glaze” is applied, I normally spray multiple glazes, which promotes variation and makes the piece safe for daily use.
When using crushed rocks on bisqueware, it is not my goal to melt them into a glaze, but rather fuse them onto the side of the piece so that the grainy texture is preserved. To do so, the rocks are crushed with a hammer, screened with a kitchen sieve, and mixed with kaolin and Gerstley borate. This mixture, which I refer to as a rock glaze, is brushed or sponged onto the piece’s exterior. As rock glazes made from different types of rocks are sponged on and accented with dabs of wild clay, a lot of variables are introduced. Finally, the pieces are sprayed with a combination of glazes and ash to highlight some areas. Some pieces are fired multiple times, adding layers of glaze and ash between each subsequent firing and slowly building on additional variation.
As I journey further on this path of experimentation, exploring the interaction between different variables and their effect on surface variation in cone-6 oxidation, I am grateful for the timely guidance I received from fellow artists in the form of a magazine article and knowledge shared on social media. I sincerely hope that sharing my journey of exploring the possibilities of electric firing will benefit others.
the author Shikha Joshi is a studio potter based in Round Rock, Texas. Born and raised in New Delhi, India, Joshi learned ceramics through community classes and workshops after moving to the US in 1998. Not having had a formal education in ceramics, Joshi spends long hours in the studio experimenting, pushing boundaries, and learning what the ceramic materials can teach her. Learn more on Instagram @potterybyshikha and www.potterybyshikha.com.
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