My experience in firing a noborigama (climbing kiln)

I picked up my small green Daihatsu boxcar at Narita Airport in Tokyo to drive on a beautiful Saturday morning in March of 2019 to Kasama, Ibaraki. Since I left early I encountered rather light traffic although there were many heavy construction trucks that on these narrow country roads are rather intimidating. Driving through the early spring landscape I noticed many blooming plum trees and other bushes full with gorgeous white flowers. The fields were not yet planted yet some showed that they were ready for sowing. Winding roads through the landscape give you a sense of the Japanese countryside, small houses bunched together into small hamlets, ever so often a large size traditional farm house surrounded by beautifully maintained gardens. It was always a dream of mine to live in one of such a house. I envisioned that it would have a beautiful interior with tatami mats, shoji doors and powerful wooden beams holding the building together.

While I was driving I was wondering what was in store for me over the next 5 weeks. I met Mr. Okuda, a well-known potter in Kasama only 6 months ago and here I was on my way to his studio for a planned firing of a large four-chambered wood fire climbing kiln (noborigama). It has been a dream of mine to be a part of such an endeavor. I was wondering who else would be there and what if anything would I be able to contribute? I was excited to be there but I also was anxious how I would be received. Here is this American guy, a scientist who on the side makes pots. Will he be of any use? Will he be just standing around during the process of loading and firing the kiln? Is he really interested in the traditional Japanese way of making pots? I envisioned a group of curious potters carefully watching my every step. What did I get myself into I wondered. Five weeks is a long time.

While I drove into the parking lot of Mr. Okuda’s cooperative studio I recognized the surroundings from my last visit. There as firewood read for use stacked up all around the buildings. Finally here and a sense of joy rushed through me. I soaked the feeling in as I was sitting in my car for a few minutes. A sense of calm came over me. I found Mr. Okuda in his studio looking at me with some surprise, then recognizing me and welcoming me to his place. With his deep-rooted Japanese hospitality, he realized that I was in need of some nourishment and so he sent me off to the nearest ramen restaurant. And so my days in a Japanese pottery studio began.

There was not much time to get used to the time change, the cold weather and the many potters who would come the next day to start preparing the large kiln for loading the thousands of pieces. Young potter apprentices would carry boards of pots from nearby potteries to the kiln chambers where their masters would load them onto the shelves.

Not much was spoken, everybody was busy and it seemed that this was a well-practiced process. I made myself as useful as possible, but I realized that everybody carefully observed me and wondered whether I would of any help. I crawled into the small firebox of the noborigama and started cleaning out the ash deposits from last year’s firing. I cleaned the area around the kiln from the leaves of nearby bamboo forest and swiped the dusty studio floor. Small chores that nobody asked me to do, but I thought I make myself useful.
The process of loading the kiln was arduous. The potters were crammed in the small chambers making sure they would not knock over some pieces. Slowly chambers filled with all kinds of pieces and it was interesting to watch potters to use every possible space to place pots. Moreover, it was interesting to realize that there were many “friends” of the Okuda studio who brought their homemade pieces to be put into the kiln. Indeed it seemed to me that the firing was a community affair. The studio was filled with home made food brought for everyone to eat lunch . Teacups were handed out with Japanese sweets to go along. There was buzzing life in the studio, but in the evening everybody paused, sat down, had a smoke and drank sake. Three days of loading and we all needed a day off before lighting up the kiln. It felt welcomed and accepted as a member of their family. My Japanese language skill was rather absent yet with Google Translate on my phone I could communicate with anybody.

The free day was needed and although it was kind of raining, I drove to Mito, a mid size town where I walked around, bought some incense and tea, had a ramen bowl for lunch and visited the Kairakuen Park famous for its plum trees. They were in bloom and what a sight. Some were light rose while others were a deep red and there were so many of them. Yet, because of the weather there were only few visitors. What a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.

I was always the first one to go to the studio in the morning. Mr. Okuda would open the studio and I was making coffee and got the oven started to warm up the place. Spring was very cold and a fire in the oven made for a comfortable place to sit around and drink a cup of coffee. Mr. Okuda would turn on his most favorite CD’s with American music of the 60ies. For some reason even after so many times of listening to it, I enjoyed the tunes. Potters would arrive and today was the ceremony to light the kiln. Mr. Okuda was wearing a samue outfit and some classic geta shoes. Tradition has it that the kiln god will be honored with a small shrine. There was a bowl of rice, a cup of salt and a small cup of sake as well as a few twigs from a Japanese bush. Mr. Okuda poured some sake over the kiln firebox and then all of the people raised a small sake cup to celebrate the start of the kiln fire. This was very traditional way to mentally prepare everybody for the next 3 to 4 days of firing.

Lighting the small wood splinters with some matches and the process of wood fire started. Impressively the kiln pulled the flame into the firebox and I immediately recognized the power of the kiln. There was no smoke, the wood started to crackle under the influence of the fire and Mr. Okuda added large pieces of wood so that the kiln would not fire up too quickly. Volunteers would stoke the firebox while Mr. Okuda kept a very close eye on the process. Clearly, he was in charge and with his subtle directions he would make sure that the fire would steadily progress. Clouds of moister would seep out through small cracks on the bricked up sides as the kiln slowly warmed up. We needed to bring scrap wood that was stacked outside next to the kiln. Everybody participated without asking to do so. A community effort was underway. All day long and into the evening there was a coming and going of people. Dinner was brought in and potter friends of Mr. Okuda would come and bring good wishes, advice and bottles of sake, which was freely poured into small and larger cups. The atmosphere was relaxed, people were very happy to be part of this once a year event and contributed in every way possible. I was the only non-Japanese and people were very curious who I was and why I am here and how I got to know Mr. Okuda? I was very much at ease and it seemed to me as if I knew the people for many years already.  Night fell on the first day of firing with a crisp air and stars in the sky. What a day it was.

The next morning I walked back to the studio. It was cold but the sun was up and it was peaceful. Blooming plum trees and bushes full with white flowers along the streets showed the power of spring. Vegetable gardens seemed ready to be planted. Some guys who stoked the kiln overnight were getting ready for the breakfast of rice balls, a bowl of ramen and a cup of tea. They had a white towel around their heads and looked exactly as I expect Japanese workers to look like. I stoked the fire in the oven since the morning was cold to warm up the studio. More people arrived and stoking of the firebox continued throughout the day. When night settled, the temperature in the firebox reached its peak and Mr. Okuda bricked up the firebox entrance. The firebox is essentially an anagama chamber where pieces will get lots of fly ash deposits. This was the highlight of the day, but stoking of the next chamber started and continued through the night.

The studio was a buz. Friends of Okuda-San and other potters arrived to celebrate the firing and share dinner. It was a party with lots of sake, home made food and lots small Japanese sweets. I met so many people and needless to say I had a hard time to remember their names. Many of my friends had a bit too much sake as the evening progressed and the studio was filled laughter and joy, not to mention the smoke from the all-present cigarettes. My friend Hiloshi from Mito arrived with his girlfriend Kana and I was happy to give them a tour of the kiln area, explained the firing process. It was as if I have done this already many times.

Okuda-San was happy to see so many people enjoying themselves and I could see a deep satisfaction in his face. Since the kiln gets fired only once every year, it should be an event where people from the community can participate and it was evident to me that Okuda-San wanted to create an atmosphere where people would gather and celebrate the process of a very traditional firing of a noborigama. There are very few of these kilns left in Kasama and young potters may not want to go through the trouble or may not have the means to do wood firing. Okuda-San is rightfully worried that the traditional way of making and firing pots will disappear in Kasama. He envisions that creating a group of potters and friends that keep this tradition alive will be his contribution to the community of Kasama.

The last of the 3-day firing came to a climax late in the evening with darkness engulfing the kiln site. Many spectators came to see the final hour of the firing. Stoking of chamber #4 was done every 8 min and the flames shot 20 feet out of the chimney into to cold dark night.

The roar of the flames was impressive. What a sight! I stoked chamber # 4 for the last few times and I considered myself very privileged. Finally done and Okuda-San showed his great satisfaction. Now all we could do is wait for 7 days until kamadashi (kiln opening). Fatigue and excitement was on everybody’s face. We were exhausted, but happy. Myself, I had a hard time to digest the emotions. It has always been a dream of mine to fire a wood fire kiln and finally my dream was a reality. I went to Okuda-San and sincerely thanked him for allowing me to be here.