Pit-Fired

Pit firing begins long before the first flame. I gather seaweed from the beach and save selected materials that might otherwise be discarded or composted, including dried eggshells and fruit peel, then leave everything to dry for weeks.

The pieces begin on the wheel in smooth white clay. I slowly burnish each surface with a stone until it becomes polished and silky, ready to catch a subtle sheen after firing. When everything is prepared, the studio table fills with pale pots, crisp seaweed, copper wire, green copper compounds and gathered fragments. Wrapping them is playful and intuitive. Each piece receives its own arrangement before being enclosed in foil, holding the materials close to the clay and creating an atmosphere with very little oxygen. The parcels are nestled into the bottom of the hand-dug pit.

Wood is balanced carefully around and above them like a jigsaw. In the colder months, lighting the fire becomes a shared outdoor ritual with family or friends. Flames catch, wood crackles and smoke rises into the cold air as we gather close and tend it together. Within that heat, hidden from view, a magical alchemy begins. The copper transforms, shifting from green into red and painting unpredictable colour and markings across the white clay.

The next morning feels like an archaeological dig as I search through the cool ash and lift out each parcel. The true reveal comes with washing out each piece: soot runs away, colours emerge and there is always a moment of wonder at what the fire has created. Once clean, each piece is waxed by hand to give the surface its final subtle sheen.