Inspired by the work of Daniel Parnitzke during his Master’s studies at the Design Academy Eindhoven, the low-tech DIY process of building a rocket stove appealed as a suitable starting point for learning about agency through making.
A sunny day and temporary disdain for current projects, or more likely the same desk chair I’d been sat in for the last 10 months, time to start making. A rocket stove is a single combustion chamber stove, it is high efficiency, it uses small-diameter wood fuel. The DIY process of building a rocket stove appeals as a starting point for learning about agency through making.
The mildly confused local pizzeria man is willing to give me an old tin once filled with ‘pizza sauce classica’, large enough to house the insulated vertical chimney. After saving a number of other small tins from the kitchen recycling, step-by-step online instructions show me the process to follow. The ends of my tin snips are too rounded and not ideal for sticking into nail holes, I saw this coming but fell for the aesthetics of a wider pair when buying them. Step 3, small cuts cover the ends of my fingers, smart idea to use a tin opener but the one I have is old and rusted, not a total success. Cutting into the double seam edges requires much more strength, learning to change my hand position and stand up allows for more leverage.
A second trip to the pizzeria for a lid I hadn’t realised I would need, then trying two others until the right one was available. Returning home to trim it down to size, one more cut on my thumb, one more trim to make the lid fit. Ultimately, I learn how to trim the edges to make them smooth, less sharp spikes threaten to slice open my skin. Tissue paper to hand and wrapped around my left thumb, precautionary measures.
Sand to insulate the chimney proves harder to find than I’d anticipated, a couple of weeks go by until I can get some. The weather is now significantly colder and greyer, another week or so goes. A free hour and I add the sand which pours straight into the chimney, I’ve not cut the holes very accurately. I remove the sand, add sealant and wait a further couple of days for it to dry, refill the sand, attach the lid. Once again I wait for the sunshine. I test lighting the stove on a grey afternoon, I’m unsure for what exactly but the act feels necessary. Tuesday afternoon and the sun arrives, fish fingers sandwiches are on the menu for lunch, I pan fry them on the stove. It’s a slow start, the bits of wood small enough to fit are old pieces of picture frame coated with an unknown substance, it gives off a slightly unsavoury smell when it burns. Slowly the pan begins to sizzle, the chimney has to be constantly checked and topped up with wood, a few times it’s overfilled and the airways become restricted. If slowly smoked fish fingers are what you want, then it’s ideal.
There is a lot to learn for next time, sticks that are small and dry are essential, don’t cook something from the freezer. The feeling of accomplishment resonates, if slightly dulled over the weeks of waiting for everything to come together. I know that the process could be done in a couple of hours if prepared, this is more exciting. Writing this I also acknowledge my desire to show others the practice and feel smug at the thought that I could do it without instruction this time.
I had learnt to build a rocket stove but in the age of the internet, constant and infinite access to information, and of course kitchen ovens, what is the point? I had learnt to use a tool and with this I can make much more. I’d gained immense satisfaction through building something with my hands, gathering materials and making from start to finish with total autonomy, plus when the apocalypse comes I will be cooking on gas.
