To some, wood fired ceramics looks primitive and ugly and maybe only people who know how it is made can appreciate it. You may only see a pile of brown pots and boring grey shades, but to me red and browns mean richness of clay bodies, the containing irons drawn to the surface by the flame and lack of oxygen the fire used for burning. I see grays as craquelled Shino glazes or a surfaces with thin layer of ash on white clay. I see streaks and pools of melted ash of emerald color: the fuel joined permanently with pieces. More – I see struggle of the people who fired it, their sweat, their energy, their body and spirit. And I see thousands of years old ways of achieving timeless beauty, one that can last thousand years. I see fire. I see heart. I see.
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