Building Corbridge Pottery: Salt, Wild Clay, in Logan, Utah
I could not center clay the first time I sat at a wheel. I walked out with one crooked bowl and a reason to come back.
I am Adam, and I make functional pottery in Logan, Utah. I came to clay later than most, after school and a few jobs that did not fit, and stayed because it is honest work. Now I am building a salt kiln here and using this blog to document the whole process.
- Clay does not lie. Rush it or lose focus and it shows
- Salt firing is slower and harder to control, and the surfaces carry the mark of the fire
- The goal is simple: pots shaped by place, material and fire, meant to be used
The first time I sat down at a wheel, I could not center the clay. It buckled and wobbled under my hands no matter what I did. I walked out of the studio with dried slip on my jeans and one small, crooked bowl that probably should have gone straight back into the reclaim bucket.
Something about it stuck anyway.
Coming to clay late
I did not grow up planning to be a potter. I found clay after school, after a few jobs that never quite fit. I wanted work that felt honest. Something physical, something that pushed back a little. Clay does exactly that. If you rush it, it shows. If you are distracted, that shows too.
Over time, curiosity turned into something steadier. The more I worked, the more I wanted to understand not just how to make a pot, but how fire, material and place shape the piece that comes out at the end.
Why a salt kiln, and why here
Living and working in northern Utah gets into what you make. The dry air, the light, the mineral soil: all of it feels present in the studio. That is a big part of why I am building a salt kiln here in Logan.
Salt firing is not the easy route. It is slower, less predictable and harder to control. But when salt vapor hits the clay at high heat and fuses with the surface, the result carries the mark of the fire in a way glaze alone never quite does. There are not many people building salt kilns in this part of the state, and that challenge is part of the draw. I am not interested in copying a surface I can buy in a bucket. I am interested in process, and in what happens when you commit to something that takes years to learn.
Where things stand
Corbridge Pottery is still growing. The kiln is still in progress. The testing is ongoing. Some pieces come out better than I expected, and some go straight onto the shard pile. That is part of it.
What I am working toward is simple: honest pottery shaped by place, material and fire. Work that feels steady in your hands. Pieces meant to be used, not just looked at.
What this blog is for
This is where I will document the process: the kiln build, the experiments, the setbacks, and the pieces that finally feel right. If you want to follow along as this studio takes shape, I am glad you are here.
If you are just starting out and cannot center, stop forcing it. Brace your elbows against your thighs, use more water than you think, and let the wheel speed do the work. Centering is a posture before it is a skill.
That crooked first bowl is long gone, but I still think about it. Every pot since has been a slightly better answer to the same question.
