Thirty-Two Makers.
One Night.
Wet Clay to White Walls.
Hand-thrown stoneware. Wood-fired porcelain. Each piece under a single spotlight, casting its own shadow like a performer on opening night.
Yuki Tanaka
Yuki pulls forms from memory — shapes her grandmother kept in the kitchen, now translated through forty hours of wood-firing in her Catskills studio. The ash settles where it wants. She stopped fighting that years ago.
The wheel turns. The hands decide.
Studio Process · Portland, OR
Priya Mehta
Priya trained in Jingdezhen before moving to Portland, bringing a precision that her celadons wear lightly. The surface looks effortless. The firing schedule runs seventy-two hours without interruption.
Forty hours of fire. One moment of opening.
Anagama Firing · Catskills, NY
Lena Brauer
Lena fires with salt because she likes the unpredictability. Each piece carries a record of the atmosphere inside the kiln at the moment of transformation — geology compressed into an afternoon.
The full roster reveals itself
only in person.
Twenty-nine more makers. Every medium, every firing technique. Some you'll recognize. Most you won't — until you do, and then you'll wonder how you missed them.
The room holds its breath.
Then someone reaches out and touches the glaze.
I came for the opening. I left having rearranged my entire living room mentally around a single celadon bowl. Picked it up the next morning before the crowds.
There's a quality to wood-fired work that photographs can't capture. The surface has a memory. Kiln is one of the only events where you feel that in person.
I follow three ceramic artists the way my kids follow bands. Kiln is the only event that treats them with that kind of reverence.
KilnReserve Your Spot
Thirty-two makers. One night. March 14–15, 2026.