Johnny Ortiz

I begin working with clay while still running the kitchen at Saison in San Francisco in 2016 or so. Like I've probably mentioned in previous thoughts, this job was no easy task and I gave myself to it 100+%. The shift into spending off time, which was limited,  on ceramics came from the inner desire to begin creating what my practice was going to be in the future. It's sweet to look back on it as it's been almost 10 years now as it was seemingly a whole other life time ago. 
A little disheartened with restaurants in general and their lack of intimacy with the narratives they had laid out in narrative to the public, I was eager to create something where I could have a hand in every aspect as possible. Something that possessed a single spirit. As the years go by and that spirit I sought to create exists, we add more and more to that list. We are closer than we have ever been, but also have a long ways to go still. 
The first step in this to be project, was solidified with the idea of working with clay to make the vessels in which my food was served on. As the idea ruminated, I came across the work of Carole Neilson, who was making porcelain that was post firing smoked with organic material. She was a pioneer in this style, something you didn't see anywhere else, except now you do. Her work reminded me of the ceramics made from where I grew up, Tu-ah-tah (Taos Pueblo) but were drastically different. In meeting her I quickly asked if she would teach me and she quickly and enthusiastically agreed. We went on to spending many days off together working on clay and sharing a meal and delicious wines that her husband David would pick out. These memories I hold dear to my heart. While looking back, I can see all the seeds being planted for what would become / shed. 
After a year or so of working on clay with clay I decided to leave the restaurant, start / shed, and move back home my brother Brandon had been working with clay also, but while I had only commercial clays he had been working with wild clays, especially micaceous which is the vernacular clay of where we grew up comprised of broken down mica, sandstone, rose quartz, and pink feldspar. After having the relization to work with the clay of where I come from, I never touched commercial clay again.
At the same time this all was sprouting, with the desire to grow food that I would be able to cook with I was reading a lot about agriculture from the likes of Wendell Barry, Rudolph Steiner, <meta charset="utf-8">Henry David Thoreau, and <meta charset="utf-8">Masanobu Fukuoka. These souls impacted me deeply, or maybe rather resonated with my views already. However I found myself looking at everything through a different lense. 
As my clay practice became more of a focus I begin to experiment with energetic components of the firings, firing on new moons for example. My firings have always been done in the traditional way, in a pit, and often to my detriment, but the shift into connecting with the cosmos was a big shift for me. 
Me and my mother used to spend lots of time in nature, collecting Staurlites, hunting for cota flowers, or spending the day in natural hot springs. Of the many things she taught me, one of the more impactful was to always say thank you. It is something I have kept with me ever since and for the longest time I would do so without really wondering why, which I did about everything else funny enough. But as I begin to dig deeper into the energetics of a firing I begin to dissect it a little. What I found was that maybe the external doesn't hear us when we say thank you, but you do. We are energetic beings sharing and absorbing energies contently and in the practice of being thankful we are creating more reverence for the natural world in our every interaction, likely sharing that with those we come in connection with. 
I write this in reflection on my latest new moon firing on January 13th 2025. Not only was it the new moon, but it was snowing for the first time in months, which felt like a blessing even though I usually try to avoid firing in the snow. I had made work for my friend Evan Kinori, and my wife Maida and daughter Flora were present as always. As I split cedar palitos and watched the coals build up the two of them collected dried juniper and ground blue corn we had grown to say thank you. As the snow covered the sky we offered our offerings and said thanks and begin the firing. 
My 'thanks' or prayer, whatever it might be called, is usually said in private and is different each time. This time it was something like this: 
Ta-ah (thank you in tiwa) mother earth for sharing your beauties with me, I am endlessly grateful to be a witness and steward of the magic you offer. Please share your magic with me tonight through this fire, into these vessels, so that I may share with others your constant and overwhelming beauties.

New moon firings

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