why jim sweeney chose raku and saggar ceramics

Jim Sweeney shares a look inside his evolving ceramic practice.

Raku and saggar firing have become a core part of my art practice, and they continue to fascinate me the more I learn about them. As someone who’s naturally engineer-minded, the science behind the firing practice feels like I’m always discovering something new, from tweaks to the firing and trying new materials, to unique ways to work with combustibles that create amazing surface designs.

There’s always something to explore, test, and tinker with. Even the most minuscule changes in variables keep things surprising and interesting. But it’s not just the journey of firing this way that keeps me coming back; it’s the end result: a tangible example of the intensity that goes into ceramics and how natural elements can create breathtaking effects. 

the first time i saw fire leave its mark

Early in my ceramics career, I came across raku and became obsessed with it. Deep in my research, I spent over a year trying to understand the science behind it and how I could take the leap and do it myself. But after spending a ton of money building our home studio, I was hesitant to invest in a raku kiln.

I didn’t want that to stop me though, so I started on a smaller scale and DIYed a tiny, inexpensive kiln to get me started (more on that here). It wasn’t the perfect solution, and there were plenty of failures and lessons learned along the way. However, it gave me just enough to get a feel for raku. From horsehair to naked raku, to a range of metallic and crackling glazes, it was impossible not to get hooked.

Each piece reinforced my belief that this style of ceramics was truly special, fueling my curiosity to do bigger, better, and more exploratory pieces.

Soon after starting, I took the plunge and invested in a raku kiln, giving me more flexibility and eventually leading me to discover saggar.

why i choose fire over control

When it comes to raku and saggar, there’s a balance between taking and letting go of control. Sure, you can take specific steps to create the right atmosphere for firing, but even if you did the exact process every time, you’d still end up with a different outcome. So many factors can influence the surface design, from how quickly your piece cools, how much smoke penetrates the surface, how combustible materials interact with each other, and how much oxygen the piece is exposed to.

This normally would drive me crazy as a perfectionist, especially when I’m trying to achieve specific outcomes. Yet, it’s taught me to loosen up a bit and embrace the unpredictability because it’s what makes each piece unique.

It challenges my engineering spirit to keep experimenting, which I love. It’s an incredibly hands-on process, requiring me to tweak the gas just so, pull out the piece at the right time, wrap it in combustibles in a certain way, and hope that I have the right balance of oxygen and smoke.

It feels like I’m doing a science experiment each time I fire. In reality, I guess I am.

letting the material speak

This firing method is volatile, which has influenced how I build my pieces. To limit cracks, I use raku clay that can handle the rapid expansion and contraction of the clay. I’ve also learned that how I build can really make or break a piece…literally.

My pieces are more “architectural” in nature, with cutouts, delicate vessel necks, and unique construction. In other words, it’s very easy to crack, explode, or break off. I’ve learned that taking the extra step to burnish the piece helps tremendously.

For raku, I’ve found that certain things influence the surface outcomes. For example, when burning horsehair on a piece, you need to catch it just at the right time. If it’s too hot, the horsehair will smoke the piece out. Too cool, and it won’t burn enough for the effect. For crackle glazes, a quick spritz of water before putting into the reduction chamber can help the crackles become more pronounced. And to pull out metallics from certain glazes may mean placing the piece in a specific way in the chamber to either allow for less or more oxygen.

Saggar also has its quirks. I’m still new to this method, but I’m learning quickly. For example, too few materials in your saggar doesn’t give you much result, while too much can make it too smoky. Using heavy-duty tin foil to wrap the piece is important to keep materials from burning off and ruining the reduction. Lately, I’m experimenting with doing a paper clay wrap around it to make it even more secure and will hopefully keep the combustibles in place for more distinct markings.

All this to say that it’s a constant process of trial and error. Even when you think you have your process dialed in, some other unexpected variable can pop up and change the outcome. It really keeps you on your toes.

looking back at earlier work

After a few initial failures, I played it safer when I first started. I was more focused on understanding the process first, so many of my pieces were smaller or simpler forms. I didn’t want to spend hours upon hours doing an intricate design until I felt more confident in my skills, and definitely not before I had a proper kiln to fire with.

Since then, I’ve learned how to refine my pieces more. Between burnishing and using terra sigillata to give a smoother finish, to using things like wax and liquid quartz to seal the piece.

still experimenting

When it comes to materials and how to achieve certain effects, I’m still discovering something new every day. That aside, I’m also getting bolder in my designs. Part of it is because I truly want my artistic voice to be more definitive, and the other part of it is because I know I’ll never find my distinctive style if I wait for everything to be perfect.

Again, this firing method isn’t made for perfectionism. It requires continuous learning. Coming from an engineering background, the best way to see progress is to create quickly and keep iterating.

I expect my forms to continue to get bolder and more daring. Even in the last couple of months, I’ve seen how much my work has evolved. Not only in the forms I’m creating, but how I’m using the surface design from this firing method to emphasize the designs even more. 

I believe raku and saggar will always be a core part of my art practice because I enjoy being an active participant in every step of the process. How I build, the combustibles I use, how hands-on I am during the firing all directly show up in the outcome. Because of that, it feels like a more direct extension of my artist’s fingerprint, and that’s really special.

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