The Wows (and Woes) of a Kiln: A Story from My Studio

The Wows (and Woes) of a Kiln: A Story from My Studio

When I first started my pottery journey, owning a kiln felt like a distant dream—one

of those big steps that would mean I was really doing it. So when I finally got my hands on a second-hand kiln, I was over the moon. It marked the beginning of a new chapter: I was building my own pottery studio.

From the outside, a kiln looks like a simple box. But to a potter, it’s a portal. Each time I fire it up, there’s a sense of wonder. Opening it after a firing is honestly one of the most joyful moments—like Christmas morning when you were a child, heart racing as you peeked under the tree. That moment of seeing your pieces transformed—glossy, strong, and vibrant—is pure magic.

But of course, it’s not all magic.

There have been more than a few heartaches along the way. Pieces I poured time and care into have cracked, warped, or shattered. I’ve opened the kiln with excitement, only to feel my heart sink. Then there’s the cost—something no one talks about enough. Even second-hand, kilns are an investment. And that’s before you discover the extras: kiln furniture that didn’t come with it, replacement elements that burn out (and burn through your budget), cone bars, glaze materials, installation costs, and the ever-climbing electricity bills.

Despite all that, I still wouldn’t be without it. My kiln has taught me patience, resilience, and humility. It’s a big, humming reminder that pottery is a dance between control and surrender. We shape the clay, but the fire has the final say.

It’s not perfect—but neither is clay. And that’s kind of the beauty of it.