Wood firing is both a making and a becoming. It is a practice rooted in patience, attention, and deep respect for the elements that shape the work long before it reaches the kiln. To fire with wood is to enter into relationship with flame, ash, air, and time — each playing an equal role in what ultimately emerges from the fire.

I am continually drawn to the communal nature of wood firing: gathering with others around a kiln, tending the fire through day and night, sharing stories, silence, meals, and long hours of watchfulness. There is something profoundly human in this rhythm — a return to an ancient way of working where craft, ritual, and connection are inseparable. In these moments, the boundary between labor and meditation begins to dissolve.

Inside the kiln, clay transforms. Wood becomes flame, flame becomes heat, heat becomes surface. Ash drifts and settles, glazing forms in quiet, unpredictable ways. No two pieces emerge alike. Each carries the trace of weather, wood, and collective care — a record not only of process, but of presence.

Wood firing teaches me to release control and embrace collaboration with the natural world. It asks for humility and rewards attentiveness. It reminds me that beauty is not always something we impose, but something we allow to unfold. And it is this surrender, this dialogue with fire, that continues to shape both my work and my way of being in the world.