I’m Not in a Hurry
There are faster ways to do this. I'm choosing not to take them.
High fire, cone 10 work moving toward salt takes time: in the kiln, in clay testing, in refining handles and reclaiming what isn't good enough, and in designing the salt kiln. Every shortcut shows in the work, so I keep releases small and let the kiln set the pace instead of a marketing calendar.
- Cone 10 means longer cycles, slower climbs, more fuel and a narrow margin for error
- I'd rather adjust the kiln design on paper ten times than rebuild once
- Some firings are more about learning than inventory, and that's fine
The faster options
There are faster ways to do this. I could fire lower and turn work around quicker. Make lighter pieces that dry faster and cost less to produce. Chase surface trends that move easily and photograph well. Release bigger batches more often. I'm not doing that.
The work I'm building, high fire, cone 10, moving toward salt, takes time. Not just in the kiln, but in the decisions leading up to it: clay testing, adjusting proportions, refining handles, reclaiming pieces that don't meet the standard. Nothing about it is rushed.
What cone 10 asks for
Firing to cone 10 means committing to longer cycles, slower climbs, more fuel and more stress on equipment. The margin for error narrows. You can't fake maturity at that temperature. The clay either vitrifies properly or it doesn't. That pace shapes everything else.
Knowing how work behaves over time
I'm building a body of work that holds up, so I need to know how it behaves over time. I need to see how rims wear after a year of use. I need to test glazes for fit, not just appearance. I need to understand how a wild clay body responds before it ever becomes a production batch. That kind of understanding doesn't come from speed.
The kiln deserves patience too
The same goes for the salt kiln. I'm not stacking brick just to say it's built. I'm thinking through airflow, chimney height and flame path. I'd rather adjust on paper ten times than rebuild once in frustration. Once that kiln is firing, it becomes part of the identity of the studio.
Small shortcuts compound
There's pressure to move faster, produce more and chase what's popular. I feel it like anyone else. But every time I rush something, even slightly, the work shows it. A rim slightly heavy. A foot ring not fully resolved. A glaze applied before it was properly tested.
I don't want a body of work that looks impressive in a single photo. I want a shelf of mugs that feel consistent years from now, bowls that still sit flat, surfaces that mature instead of craze. That takes repetition, editing, and saying no to pieces that are almost good enough.
Small releases on purpose
It also means smaller releases and fewer pieces at a time, with the kiln schedule setting output instead of a marketing calendar. Some weeks are heavier with testing than selling. Some firings are more about learning than inventory. That's fine. The studio isn't built on volume. It's built on standards.
When I'm in here late, wheel spinning, iced coffee sweating on the table, there's no urgency. Just steady work. Throw, refine, trim, test, fire, repeat. Over time that repetition builds something stronger than speed ever could. I'm not in a hurry because I don't want to rebuild this later. I want it solid from the start.
If you're feeling pressure to produce more, pick one thing to slow down on for a month, like pulling every handle twice or testing every glaze on three tiles before a full load. Then compare the results to the month before.
This is long work, and I'm staying with it. Follow the build and see the pieces along the way.
