This is my first ceramic work on the blockchain.

During a time away from the ceramic studio—no kiln, minimal equipment, and a tight budget—I was determined to keep creating with clay. That determination led me down the rabbit hole of traditional ancient firing processes, and I was completely fascinated. This was a departure from my usual focus on color, where my ceramic vessels became canvases for expressive, colorful marks and designs. Instead, I found myself digging a pit lined with local lava rock and stepping into the unpredictable world of pit firing.

My first attempt? Almost everything broke. Only one piece survived. Back to the drawing board. My second attempt? Same result—everything broke.

Pit firing is incredibly volatile. There’s no steady, controlled temperature rise like in a modern kiln. Instead, the rapid heating and cooling, along with the clay’s natural expansion and contraction, can wreak havoc, leading to cracks and breakage.

To stabilize the clay, I added grog—gritty material that strengthens the body. I made it myself by smashing up the broken pieces from earlier firings into a powder. A full-circle moment: my failures became the foundation for my next work.

Pit fires don’t get hot enough to vitrify glazes, so the pieces are left unglazed. To give the surface a smooth, soft sheen, I burnished the clay using polished rocks, layering and buffing it by hand. It’s arduous but absolutely worth it.

Before firing, I bisque-fired the pots in my oven. I then applied cobalt carbonate to encourage color and wrapped it in copper and foil to create additional effects.

Then came the fire. Slowly, I warmed the pots by placing them near the flames, moving them closer bit by bit. Finally, they went into the fire, and I added more wood and organic materials. Once the fire was roaring, I covered it with metal sheets to trap the heat and build up carbon, which added depth and smokiness to the surface.

Layering colorants and glazes has always felt magical to me. Slight changes in materials or conditions can lead to completely unexpected results. Sometimes it’s disappointing, but other times, it sparks a new curiosity and line of experimentation leading to something wonderful.

I’ve equated this in my mind to ideas of digital generative art as well as AI. Setting parameters and guidelines but then watching magic unfurl. A collaborative effort.

The earth firing process to me is no different. It’s a partnership with the elements: fire, air, smoke, and carbon cradled within the soil and rock of the earth. The process is raw, unpredictable, and deeply rewarding. It feels spiritual, like the earth itself is participating in the creation.

Now, to bring this work onto the blockchain, I wanted to do so in a way that fully embraced the possibilities of the digital realm. With metaverse exhibitions and virtual galleries, I especially wanted this piece to exist in a form that does it justice—viewable from every angle, not confined to a flat, 2D image but represented as a true 3D object, close to its original form.

It feels right for this work to have one hand reaching into the far reaches of the past, using processes of creating vessels akin to those our ancestors practiced for thousands of years, and another hand reaching toward the future with blockchain technology and three-dimensional digital representation.

This duality feels meaningful to me—a way to honor the timelessness of craft while embracing the possibilities of innovation.