Expedition: Estate Sale!

Looks like I'm well-equipped for a fine expedition: Sturdy canvas rucksack? Check! Plenty of glass vials for collecting specimens? Double check! Significant length of hefty hemp rope? Certainly!

Well, the truth is I've just returned from a brief expedition, and the provisions pictured were acquired along the way! Last Friday evening I noticed that an estate sale was to occur several blocks from my house first thing Saturday morning, so I set out at dawn to see what the day might bring. I took a brisk sweep through the first and second floors of the Craftsman-style home and found nothing of interest until I reached the kitchen and noticed a staircase leading down to the basement, which is generally the part of the home I enjoy poking around in most (besides the garage) when I visit estate sales.

Allow me, please, to attempt a brief explanation of the allure of estate sales (it is a complicated topic for me, so I must err on the side of brevity if I'm to keep this post moving along!) I'm very drawn to things, especially old, curious things with a history of some sort. I certainly enjoy antique stores and flea markets, but in these places one is apt to be confronted with a random and often overwhelming jumble of objects that have been stripped of any historical context, while the objects at estate sales have, in a sense, been "curated" by the former owner, creating the possibility of happening upon ready-made collections of interesting objects if you can manage to arrive at the sale early.

A true estate sale occurs when the resident of a home has passed away and the remaining family members, after dividing up heirlooms and special items that hold meaning for them, are faced with the task of clearing out everything else that the departed has accumulated over the course of their life. Strangers are invited into the home to purchase whatever they may find, a process that the family may find upsetting, and so the whole operation is generally carried out by some estate liquidation outfit that is equipped to deal with hordes of Saturday morning bargain hunters keen on discovering that rare Ming vase that the family surely overlooked!

The thrill of the hunt is powerful, true, but I am most moved when I discover that I share some interests with the deceased and thus happen upon that collection of odds-and-ends that, as I mentioned before, was seemingly curated with the sole intent to surprise and delight me upon its discovery, as when I pick out from amongst the clutter a few old books on whaling or Native American culture, or some choice mineral specimens. During the brief time I spend in the vacated home picking up small surprises, I privately celebrate the life of the former occupant, promising to offer a new appreciation and home for the objects they once held dear. Estate sales also offer a reminder that our time on earth is very limited indeed; all of the interesting curios and souvenirs I have picked up along the way that hold memories and meaning for me will eventually end up in one of two places: the dump, or in the hands of someone else who will appreciate them. I hope for the latter, and so I mostly aim to choose my acquisitions judiciously!



Aha! Back down to the basement we go, where our former master of the estate presided over an extensive collection of engines, power tools, welding machines, gun-making and maintenance equipment, mineral specimens and just about every manner of screw, nail and other hardware imaginable. The estate sale operator hadn't bothered to sort through drawers and drawers of stuff, nor to price anything, so, this experience being rather akin to mining, I donned my hard hat and dug right in!



Here's a general tip for those looking to acquire stuff: visualize whatever it is you want, and know that it will be yours one day; perhaps not within a day or week, but most likely when you've just forgotten you wanted it, it will appear. Remember how I used to be so interested in the history of whaling, and even went so far as to craft a faux display bottle of whale oil? That project was inspired by a visit to Mystic Seaport and the fact that I wasn't having luck finding any real whale oil, which, in the past, was used for everything from candles to margarine. Just so happens it also makes a superior gun lubricant, which is precisely why I happened upon a bottle labeled "Sperm Oil" in a drawer containing other gun-maintenance accoutrements. It was in a self-labeled bottle, true, but the oil within bore the very mildly fishy smell and tiny suspended white spermaceti crystals that left no doubt as to its authenticity!

I'm a sucker for old bottles and vials of any sort, and I found plenty of those; I don't yet have anything in mind for them, but they came in a couple of colorful vintage cigar boxes which was a nice bonus! The large old canvas rucksack makes the perfect beachcombing bag, while a smattering of rough turquoise specimens from Nevada, some wonderful, thick old hemp rope, a few little antique brass containers, and a jar of reflective glass spheres round out the morning's finds; not bad for ten dollars!



This next batch of items came from the home of an elderly gentleman who had many interests; according to his daughter, who was handling the sale personally, he was a locksmith, artist, engineer, jeweler, traveling salesman and avid flea market enthusiast. My heart nearly stopped when I spied a set of Native American-themed jewelry stamps of the sort used in Navajo silver jewelry. I grabbed a nifty old wooden box from a nearby desk and put the stamps inside, then happily poked around the crowded workshop for another hour or so picking up a few more odds and ends: a jumbo fish hook (a size commonly used for catching sharks I've since been told), a terrific book on whaling, and a fun vintage "ancestor mask" from Papua New Guinea. The whole lot was just five dollars; the deceased gentleman's daughter was happy to have a little help clearing a few more items out of the house-- just a few items, true, but at least they were destined for a new a new life rather than the dumpster out front!

I've already put those stamps to use; below is my first attempt at doing some stamping on copper... maybe when I get better at it I will move up to silver!



Thank you ever so much for joining me on this little expedition! If you should happen to have access to sea urchins in your area, you may enjoy my upcoming tutorial... coming soon!

Trash or Treasure: Copper Tube Contents Revealed!

Several weeks have passed since I first happened upon this mysteriously battered, verdantly patinated copper tube on a secluded stretch of Northern California beach. Those curiously folded ends surely concealed some wonderful prize, but what? Diamonds? Gold? A treasure map sealed in wax? Before opening the tube, I allowed some time to pass during which I could do a little research and pose the question of "What is it?" to my knowledgeable team of FinderMaker followers.

Alas, the tube seems to be a mystery all around, though a co-worker had a rather alarming theory: that it had washed up from one of several offshore radioactive waste disposal sites in the vicinity of the nearby Farallon Islands. He may have been kidding, but after looking into the matter, I found that radioactive materials are sometimes encased in copper, as it is a very stable metal that is resistant to corrosion. I had the tube with me at work, and was suddenly very concerned that I was exposing myself and everyone around me to radiation. Thankfully, it was nearly the end of the day, and my geiger counter was ready and waiting to deliver the final verdict back at the house. The results were.... Negative. No radiation, thank goodness.

With that scare out of the way I decided that it was time to carefully open one of the folded ends and find out what was concealed within! The ends had developed some nice bright new coloration as saltwater leaked from within and evaporated on the surface.






I wrapped a portion of the tube in canvas to protect the surface, then secured it in a vise.




I had a variety of tools on hand; I was able to wedge the tip of a small chisel in the seam of a fold and carefully pry open the seal.



For the first time in who knows how long, the interior was exposed, and I was able to get a look at what was inside (please let there be diamonds hidden in that dirt!)...



Sadly, no diamonds. No gold. No treasure map encased in wax. Just dirty old gravel.



I let the gravel sit out to dry then saved it in a jar. The mysterious tube sits on the bookshelf, its ends once again neatly closed. Am I disappointed? Yes. Deeply. But that won't discourage me from hunting for treasure, in fact, I'm about due for another trip to the coast!

Trash or Treasure? Please Help!

WOW! It's been ages, right? I mean really... it's just been rather too long! I've been busy like you wouldn't believe since relocating to the West Coast, and will at some point soon compose a post aimed at keeping my faithful readers abreast of all of the current projects brewing at FinderMaker Manor. Until then, however, I have just one question for each and every one of you: What is this thing???








Frankly, I'm stumped. First things first, though...

This weekend I felt compelled to embark on a spur of the moment drive up the coast to one of our usual beachcombing spots; it is remote, and requires a near life-threatening scramble down a cliff face to access, so it is rare to see another soul and common to find weird stuff washed up.

We survived the cliff-face scramble down to the water and commenced to ramble along the rocky coast some distance until the geography presented an insurmountably rocky outcropping, which I, ever eager to discover more curious objects, determined that I would simply have to surmount. Surrendering my preference for keeping dry, I took a few minutes to study the swell and retreat of the waves and, in a moment of relative calm, picked my way out around boulders submerged waist-deep in cold water and made my way back in towards a tiny secluded beach on the far side of the outcropping. I quickly scanned the area for any odd detritus (looking specifically for buoys on this trip but always on the alert for anything interesting at all) and honed in rather quickly on what looked like a rosy, metallic rib poking up among a cluster of surf-lapped rocks; I made my way over and immediately dubbed the thing "Jonah's Rib" and determined it worthy of closer inspection back in the company of my cohort.

It is copper; that much was easy enough to surmise, but beyond that I was unable to determine its age or any concrete purpose. What intrigued me most were the closed ends. Please humor me here and examine each end closely; you'll see just as I did that they appear to have been folded closed purposefully. What is being held inside by those folds? A treasure map? Drugs? Lead weights? Sand? Nothing?





The thing has some nice green patina on it and may have been fully covered in that green patina at one point; I've started to think that as it washed close to the shore, it may have rolled around on the rocks and sand for some time, rubbing away much of the patina and exposing the bright copper beneath.



When I first discovered it, the exposed copper was bright and rosy colored like a brand-new penny; over the past few days, however, the copper has dulled and darkened considerably. It isn't particularly heavy, but then it doesn't feel empty either. It doesn't rattle when shaken or bend easily. Oh yes, and it is 13.5" long x 5/8" wide and ranges from 3/8" to 1/2" on the side depending on where ones measures (some parts are more squished than others).

Questions foremost in my mind:
1) How long must copper be submerged in salt water to acquire that crusty green patina?
2) When was copper tubing invented? Although the thing is sort of a flattened, beat up tube-shape, it is definitely tubular, which is to say that it was formed as a tube from the get-go and not as a sheet of copper that was rolled and soldered, as there is no seam running along the length. Figuring out when copper was first extruded as tubing may help me determine the age of the thing.
3) What, if anything, is inside?
4) Can any of my readers help me figure out what this thing is? Is it trash or treasure?

I'm going to give myself a few weeks to do more research, and then I will perform as delicate a surgery as I am able to open up the object and see if there is something concealed within. I will post the results of my findings right here on FinderMaker, so please check back in the next few weeks and if you have any thoughts on what the thing might be, please send me a message; I need your help!

So You Want to Buy Some Pueblo Pottery...

I was back in New Mexico for a few days around New Years to load up all of our stuff that was still in storage in Santa Fe. Shortly after my arrival, my brother, a connoisseur of book stores, took me to a great one on Central Avenue in Albuquerque. I like finding inexpensive vintage books and magazines on Native American culture, and this place had plenty!

I was excited to find a beautiful magazine from 1961 called "Indian Life". It was published by the "Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial Association", which produces the yearly Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial Exposition in Gallup, NM. I guess the magazine served as sort of an informative guide to the Ceremonial and souvenir of the event. It is printed in full, blazing color, and has amazing photos and some fun articles. I didn't have an opportunity to read the whole thing until a few weeks ago, and was delighted to discover a big article about pottery inside! Given the theme of my most recent blog posts, I figured it would be fun to share it.

It was written in a different time, remember, so you'll have to excuse certain outdated, wince-inducing turns of phrase (the "unsophisticated Indian potter"? yikes!) Oh, and next time you are shopping for a piece of pottery high on the mesa at Acoma, you probably shouldn't "wet your finger and run it along the paint" --trust me, that "paint" isn't going to run, though you may have to if the potter catches you subjecting her art to your dripping finger!

Clicking the images below takes you to the Picasa album, where you can use the magnifying glass icon to make them bigger!

(all images above courtesy Gallup Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial Association.)

"The pottery bug is virulent and there is no known cure" the article proclaims; and rightly so, I'm sure, though my current budget certainly keeps the bug quite in check. If only a fine piece of pottery could be had today at the prices of 1961!

I really enjoyed sharing my experience at Felipe's studio with you all. For the advanced potter wishing to try their hand at micaceous pottery, Felipe does sell and ship his micaceous clay in 25 pound bags for $50.00 plus $10.00 shipping. I didn't realize that until after my visit. The morning before our moving day, I felt compelled to rush back out to La Madera to buy a bag. When I pulled up the smell of cooking bacon greeted me; breakfast at Owl Peak was in full swing!

The clay is supplied with dried squares of clay to be re-hydrated and used as slip; it is an extra sparkly clay dug from a pit that has a higher proportion of mica.

Not only is Felipe a renowned potter, sought-after medicine man and all around nice guy, it turns out he also opens up his home as a Bed and Breakfast! That morning the table was crowded with visitors: a young man who directs commercials in Los Angeles, a writer, a purveyor of high-end lumber, another local potter, etc... all happy to have found themselves together, enjoying good coffee (from micaceous pottery mugs!) and good food under the roof of one very talented and generous "master of ceremonies", Felipe Ortega!

As I departed, this time for good, with my bag of precious clay, a retired couple was ambling up towards the studio, excited to procure a fine piece of micaceous pottery from the source. As he did with me, Felipe greeted them warmly and ushered them in out of the cold morning air, and just as it was for me, I know that day will be a highlight of their stay in Northern New Mexico!

Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold, Part Three: Firing Felipe's Pots!

When famed Jicarilla Apache medicine man and potter Felipe Ortega agreed to have me out to his studio in La Madera, New Mexico, to watch and photograph him as he created one of his coveted micaceous clay pots, I never dreamed the experience would be such a complete one. I barely kept up as he formed a bean pot before my very eyes; the pace slowed as I was welcomed into Felipe's circle of family and friends to enjoy a hearty lunch, then it was back out to the studio, where, before I knew it, Felipe was readying the fire that would transform a batch of recently shaped vessels into durable pieces of cookware that were destined for collections and stovetops around the world.

I hope that by now you will have been enticed to read Felipe's excellent article "The Art and Practice of Jicarilla Apache Micaceous Pottery Manufacturing," which explains each step in the production of a traditional micaceous vessel. If you compare each step with the photos in my previous post, you should have an excellent understanding of the process, and you will probably also notice that in my documentation I missed some crucial steps in the process: sanding, application of slip, and polishing. Those steps were not scheduled for the day of my visit, so I am delighted to be able to refer you to videos that Brian Grossnickle, a former apprentice of Felipe's and an accomplished potter himself, has produced that illustrate sanding, applying slip, and polishing micaceous pottery.

Felipe had several pots that were polished and ready to go in the fire that afternoon; it turns out that he planned to deliver those very pots to his gallery in Santa Fe that evening! Firing micaceous pottery is not the long, drawn-out process I thought it might be; though some potters may consider the clay finicky and prescribe ideal conditions under which the pottery must be fired, Felipe fires his pieces whenever he finds convenient, and he rarely loses a piece in the process.

He began by clearing a space on his outdoor hearth and starting a fire with branches and brush that burned quick and hot. This fire rendered a nice bed of hot coals over which to stack the pots, but first Felipe set down a metal grate, perhaps an old oven rack or two, so that the pots wouldn't sit directly on the coals:

He stepped away for a moment and returned with some well-dried cow patties that he would place amongst the pots; these would burn in such a way as to leave unique black "fire clouds" on the fired pottery:

Then the pots were arranged on the metal grate:

The cow patties were tucked strategically in amongst the pots:

I've taken several pottery classes, and I recall always having to be careful not to allow pieces that were being loaded into the kiln to touch each other; the glaze vitrifies under the heat, causing any parts that touched to stick ruinously together. Felipe's pieces, shiny though their surfaces may be, are not glazed -- the shine results from the meticulous sanding and manual polishing of the already glittery, mica-flecked surface -- thus Felipe's pots may be stacked closely, right against each other, with no danger of sticking.

Now it's time to build the "kiln" around the stack of pots. Felipe selected from a great pile of thick, curved slabs of Ponderosa Pine bark several pieces and quickly positioned them among, and then around, the pots, forming a sort of wigwam:

Satisfied with the structure, Felipe suddenly hopped right over it and emerged from the billowing clouds of smoke with an armload of dry branches, which he placed on top:

The branches were alight almost immediately, and the pine bark began to roar and hiss as the temperature in the pile soared:

Moving aside a charred piece of bark to peer into the pile, Felipe watched for the moment that his pots began to glow red:

It doesn't take long! Maybe 20 minutes or so, before the heat of the fire had caused the pots to glow bright red, indicating that their transformation was complete!

No lengthy, controlled "cool down" time is required as it is with most pottery; the mica imparts in this clay the ability to withhold extremes in temperature without breaking, making micaceous pottery ideal to cook in. Felipe began to pluck his pots from the still-flaming pile and transferred them to a piece of corrugated metal to cool:

Not a single pot broken!

The areas where the dried cow patty came in contact with the pottery resulted in beautiful, shadowy fire clouds, each as unique as a fingerprint. Felipe had also inverted one shallow bowl over another with a patty in between. Burning in that enclosed space, the patty was consumed in a low oxygen environment, causing just the inner surfaces of the bowls to be blackened by the "reduction" firing. Felipe examines the effect, and likes it:

Before long the pots were cool to the touch, and as I gathered up my things, Felipe wiped any remaining soot off of each pot and wrapped it in newspaper.

Those pots were bound for the gallery at Cafe Pasqual's, the famed Santa Fe restaurant, that very evening. Given the effort that goes into creating each one, from the digging and processing of the clay that is dug from the same pits his ancestors have dug from for centuries, through the many steps of creation, and to the final transformation through firing, Felipe's pots are a bargain. His pricing is straightforward: $100 per quart, literally measured by scooping quarts of dried pinto beans into the finished vessel.

I simply couldn't leave that day without something tangible to remind me of my visit, and was thankful that Felipe had a coffee mug, half price because it had suffered a minor cosmetic mishap in firing (it does happen on occasion), just for me. I treasure it, but don't think that means I put it on my bookshelf to gaze upon; I drink my coffee out of it. Every morning. And I love it. Thanks Felipe!

Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold, Part Two: Felipe Ortega!

When last we met, we had embarked upon some exhilarating rambles around various Northern New Mexico sites, exploring the ruins at Posi Ouinge, poking around an abandoned mica mine, and finally, settling in for a lengthy soak in the mineral springs at Ojo Caliente.



Having discovered beautiful, glittering, apparently mica-rich pottery sherds at Posi, I became curious to learn more about this type of pottery, and my curiosity was soon richly rewarded. Shortly after that adventure I reconnected with a good friend with whom I had lost touch for some 15 years; I was astonished to learn that she had previously lived very near Ojo Caliente for some time, working as the apprentice for a famous Jicarilla Apache medicine man and potter in the nearby village of La Madera.

A quick google search revealed that the man she spoke of, Felipe Ortega, was indeed highly regarded among pottery aficionados, and that his specialty was, of all things, sparkly micaceous pottery created from local mica-rich clays! Felipe's website is a goldmine (mica mine?) of information on the rich history of micaceous pottery; I pored over every page and link, and before long I became quite fixated upon the idea of driving back out to the area to visit Felipe at his studio and learn more about his pottery firsthand. I hesitated for some time, however, fearing that my visit might prove an unwelcome distraction to the renowned Apache potter, but my friend insisted that Felipe was an affable fellow who was happy to welcome visitors to his remote studio, and she was certainly not mistaken!

Felipe's website provides excellent directions to the studio, and I soon found myself driving back through Ojo Caliente, keeping an eye out for the "pigs" sign on the left outside of town that marks the turn onto State Road 111.



The scenery along 111 is so lovely I just had to stop and take some pictures!



A sign points the way toward La Madera:



Arriving in La Madera, one passes the prominent and cheerful-looking store Apache Drums. I sure was curious to stop in and check it out, but they were closed.



A little further up the road on the left, right after the pink house, is Felipe's home and studio, Owl Peak.



Felipe was taught how to use the local clay to create a traditional bean pot by a Jicarilla Apache elder, Jesucita Martinez, back in 1969, and has continued ever since to create micaceous pottery on the same plot of land on which he was born. He is often credited with preserving and reviving the centuries-old tradition of micaceous pottery production among the Jicarilla Apaches and beyond; he generously shares his love for the craft with anyone who shows an interest. Through classes and workshops that Felipe has taught as well as personal apprenticeships, potters the world over have acquired the traditional techniques for creating true Jicarilla Apache-style micaceous pottery.

Lately, Felipe enjoys spending more time in the studio creating pottery, trusting former apprentices, many now masters in their own right, to offer classes and workshops to beginners interested in learning the craft. He has written an excellent article, "The Art and Practice of Jicarilla Apache Micaceous Pottery Manufacturing," that offers detailed step-by-step instructions on the production of a traditional micaceous pot. Anyone interested in exploring a more in-depth, anthropological analysis of the importance of clay in the Jicarilla Apache culture will greatly enjoy his article "Ceramics for the Archaeologist, An Alternative Perspective."


Felipe's studio.


Some examples of Felipe's craft shimmer in the morning sun by the door to his studio.

The morning was chilly, but a stout wood stove well-fed with cedar logs kept Felipe's studio warm and cozy:



Bright morning sun bathed the room with light as Felipe assembled the few materials he needed to create a pot. So adept is Felipe at his craft that he moved from one step in the process to the next very swiftly indeed, explaining each as he went, offering anecdotes relating to Apache history and micaceous pottery production, and cheerfully fielding all of my questions, while a finely formed pot took shape before my very eyes!

Bags of micaceous clay, collected each Spring from ancestral clay pits nearby and used throughout the year, are neatly stacked against a wall of the studio.



Felipe takes his seat at the low work table and forms a "tortilla" of clay to serve as the base of the pot:



A "puki" is a shallow vessel that serves as a support for the base of the pot, allowing the walls of the pot to be built up. Traditionally a ceramic vessel, today a shallow, turquoise-colored melamine bowl makes a fine puki! Before being put into service, the puki is coated lightly with cooking oil, then dusted with fine mica flakes; this prevents the clay from sticking to the walls of the puki:



The clay tortilla is positioned in the mica-dusted puki:



Then the inside is smoothed with a potter's rib and prepared for the addition of coiled clay walls:



A ball of clay rolled back and forth between the palms of his hands quickly becomes a "snake" of clay that Felipe adds to the wall; several snakes are formed and added to the wall in quick succession until the desired height is reached:







The process of adding coils and pinching them together to build up the walls is quick, taking only a few minutes to reach this height:



Now Felipe scrapes, smooths, and thins the coiled walls with a potter's rib, defining the overall shape of the pot:





This one will be a traditionally shaped bean pot, so named because one can indeed cook beans in it. I may have failed to mention that aside from being beautiful to look at, micaceous pottery can certainly be used to cook food in! The Apaches used their micaceous pottery right on the fire to cook beans and stews, and so can you; the mica acts as both an excellent temper and an insulator, allowing the fired vessel to be heated directly over a fire (or your stove) without cracking and then to hold in the heat to keep your food warm!

The bean pot Felipe has been working on will have a short, fluted neck, but the vessel body he has made thus far must rest and firm up a bit so that it can support the weight of the clay that will be added for the neck. At this point the vessel was set aside while we retired to the kitchen (or rather, I retired, while Felipe continued his work at the kitchen counter, this time forming and cooking delicious actual tortillas).

The focal point of Felipe's kitchen is this impressive wood-fired cooking stove, but look behind the stove at the wall . . . do you notice that familiar golden iridescence? All of Felipe's walls are plastered with micaceous clay that radiates a warm glow throughout the house!



And remember how I mentioned that you can cook in micaceous pottery? Here's the proof! Felipe cooked up this delicious chile sauce in a pot that he made in 1974 and that still serves him well to this day!



Before long we were joined by Lee Moquino, a young potter and friend of Felipe's who participates in many aspects of local Pueblo Indian culture. By the time the last tortilla was cooked, a group had assembled around the kitchen table, eager to tuck into a hearty chicken stew, to which we all added spoonfuls of that fiery, micaceous pottery-cooked chile sauce and scooped up with those delicious, freshly made tortillas.

After that wholesome and filling lunch, Felipe, Lee, and I headed back out to the studio, where Lee (who comes from a family of accomplished potters and has discovered that micaceous clay suits him very nicely) started working on a pot and Felipe continued his bean pot. The body of the pot had firmed up sufficiently to allow more coils of clay to be added to create the neck.



Coils are added, then scraped and formed into the desired shape:



Meanwhile, Lee's pot was coming along nicely!



Lee and Felipe had an easy, comedic rapport that kept me in stitches. Here, Felipe gives Lee a good natured ribbing: "Why'd you make your pot look so ugly," after which he explained to me that in Apache tradition, a pot is never referred to as "beautiful" until after it has survived the entire process of creation and firing.



Then, before I had even realized he had done it, Felipe had tidied up his bean pot, started on a lid for it, then set them both on a sunny shelf to dry while he went outside to prepare for the firing process.



That bean pot still had a journey ahead of it before it could be fired . . . sanding, applying slip, polishing . . . but Felipe had a group of pots that he was not only ready to fire, but also intended to drop off at his gallery in Santa Fe that very evening!

I wasn't sure I was understanding the timeline correctly; I had envisioned the firing process being rather time consuming, but I would soon learn otherwise (and so will you!). I hope you will stick around for the third and final installment in my "Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold" series to see how Felipe fires his micaceous pottery . . . It's so hot I think you'll actually feel the flames!