This is a story about friendship. This is a story about enjoyment. This is a story about a choice, about an election, about those who keep their voice and those who give it away. It is a story about giving without ulterior motives, about accepting gifts, and about the resolve not to let oneself be manipulated by expectations. It is a story about two weeks in the life of someone whom others call an artist.
In an age where regression is glorified as progress, and where all of nature is meant to become a tradable commodity, this serves as a small beacon of hope—a reminder of a humane world that must be built anew, time and time again.
It is also a story written before the history of the victors is penned. It is a story about people who act, who are active, who remain engaged in doing.
The ministries of truth are still under construction; those who read this are free to stumble, and—after reflecting—are welcome to think ahead. But that is another story.
Plans are underway to build a pizza and bread oven at a magical new Familiafeliz location — Etroed by the woods — in Harzgerode in the Harz region in Germany. The oven will weigh approximately three tons and requires a deep, frost-proof foundation; consequently, the first steps involve bringing in gravel and cement and acquiring the tools needed to construct the base.
Laying the foundation stone requires excavation. Nearly a cubic meter of soil was moved, old bed borders where dismantled, and natural stones where sorted out.
During the construction of Cologne Cathedral, the master builders believed that a building’s foundations had to be just as heavy as the structure intended to stand upon them. The excavation pit for the cathedral was vast; work on the foundations alone took forty years. A Roman temple likely stood on that hill by the Rhine long before. Given the river’s frequent flooding, the site had been well chosen. Dörte hauled several wheelbarrow-loads of earth out of the pit; this preparatory work alone took two days. Meticulous care is essential, especially during these—quite literally—foundational stages. Many people will come to this spot to enjoy a good meal and the hospitality of the residents. Yet, as always, only a few were present when the foundation stone was laid.
Timber from old one-way pallets was used for the formwork of the lower strip foundations. The shape follows the curve of the original bed.
Some larger stones have been intentionally embedded in the lower foundations to provide interlocking, ensuring that the overlying floor slab can bond more effectively with the strip foundations beneath it.
Another form work structure is built. Several large natural stones are placed inside and then encased in concrete. Cross-braces provide support for the structure until the initial curing stage.
The base slab has been poured, marking the completion of the actual foundation. Reinforcing steel was deliberately omitted; over time, the steel would rust, and the expansion of the rust would cause the foundation to crack and break apart. This is a phenomenon frequently observed in bridge structures that are more than 60 years old.
The financing of this structure followed the typical pattern for Familiafeliz. All labor was donated. The materials were largely donated or reclaimed, while the cement, gravel, and mortar came from local suppliers as a donation to the village residents. There are no agendas other than completing the build. There are no contracts, declarations, promises, obligations, or debts. Everyone who helped was rewarded by the joy of the work itself. They are part of this story. And they share in the joy reflected in the eyes of Dörte, the recipient of this stove.
Dörte and Eckhard lay the first rows of bricks.
There are certainly many ideas about how a community of people forms. Often, it is an important, pressing concern that brings people together. Sometimes, it is part of an agenda, a plan, or a project. In our community, people come together because they want to enjoy their time spent doing things together. This sense of community is not the primary focus; it emerges naturally along the way—making it all the more powerful and valuable.
The entrance to the combustion chamber is shaped like a Gothic arch. Its width corresponds to the length of the bricks. The bricks originate from an old ring kiln at a brickworks in the town of Ballenstedt; they were excavated from a large rubble pile, cleaned, pre-sorted, transported to the construction site, and finally intensivly cleaned and soaked in a water bath.
Once the arch form work was quickly removed, the brick joints could be cleaned. Eckhard reinforced the gaps with wire bindings to increase structural integrity. Much of this intensive work will hardly be apparent when looking at the finished oven later on; only those who were there know the effort and hard work involved.
The nearly finished arch is given a small keystone—a pebble from the surrounding area.
The Gothic arch emerged in France during the first half of the 12th century. By around 1200, it had spread to neighboring countries, becoming a preferred arch form, particularly in ecclesiastical architecture. The choice of the arch as an architectural element underscores a focus on the space where food is prepared—a social setting where a fine meal is meant to be celebrated. The use of reclaimed bricks—which embody the region’s own history of prosperity and decline—reflects an appreciation for the material. Each brick holds the energy of its creation and the industriousness of the workers involved in its manufacture and initial firing in the brickyard’s ring kiln.
An additional base slab is cast within the brickwork. This creates a step that facilitates the future cleaning of the fire pit.
The floor of the firebox is being tiled, using fine fireclay mortar as the adhesive. The inner wall facing the firebox—constructed of bricks—is also being built using fireclay mortar.
The upper ring of the wall surrounding the fire pit is being constructed. Split bricks are laid to form pillars; the resulting openings serve to vent smoke and distribute heat within the structure. Finally, the inner surfaces facing the fire pit are plastered with fireclay mortar.
The fire pit is largely assembled, and the outer walls are in place. The structure is ready to support the oven chamber, which consists of a sheet-metal barrel.
The flooring of the fire pit tells its own story. Even in this day and age, there are people who take pleasure in seeing items they no longer need put to use by others. We were given these leftover tiles while searching for suitable building materials for the project. When we laid the foundations, we hadn’t yet found these materials—nor the metal drum that was later converted into the baking chamber. Much of this project, then, appears to be improvised. Yet, everything turned up at the very moment it was needed. That, too, is a story typical of our community: we start something when we have enough to begin, not when we have everything required to finish it. This strategy offers the chance to start sooner, driven by the trust that we will find—along the path to completion—whatever was missing at the outset. Some might call this reckless, pointing to the risk of leaving things unfinished. Others raise such objections to reassure themselves and console themselves for not starting at all. But that is another story.
The metal drum was a good choice. An uncoated version is used. Many drums used for transporting food have an interior lining made of various plastics; while this protective coating for the metal is understandable, such a drum is unsuitable for this type of project. The plastic would burn on the inner walls, and residues would migrate into the food being prepared.
Before the access opening for the baking chamber is cut out using an angle grinder, all the holes for the hinges and the lock are drilled.
Afterwards, the opening is created using a thin cutting disc for metal.
Success is all about timing! One of my mantras could also be translated as: success lies in the correct sequence of the necessary work steps. Constructing the hatch for loading the oven chamber is no trivial task. Many parameters came into play during the design phase: it needed to be as large as necessary yet as small as possible (to minimize heat loss), easy and safe to operate (given that it would inevitably get hot), inexpensive to build, with tight clearances, and simple to maintain and repair. The sequence of operations was crucial: first, marking the positions for all the hinges and the latch, and only then cutting out the hatch itself using a special, ultra-thin cutting disc. Choosing a small angle grinder was important, as it makes handling easier and allows the disc to penetrate the material more effectively.
The barrel is aligned and anchored, and the masonry work begins. The hatch is mounted, and the lock is attached.
The barrel undergoes multiple cleaning cycles. Information on suitable cleaning agents can be found in the safety data sheets for the specific products transported. As a safety precaution, all work steps are performed multiple times.
Reusing building materials is often part of the construction process—at least when it comes to our community’s projects. On the left of the image, one can see a white form—a remnant from cutting out the Gothic arches. Using it as a support means that a) this waste material could be put to use, and b) the brick arch echoes the Gothic arch. This architectural allusion creates a tension between deviation and repetition.
Finally, the cleaned baking chamber is rinsed out with warm water, and the summer sun aids the final drying process.
Construction of the flue walls around the barrel continues. The same routine plays out each workday: after the masonry work, there is a break lasting anywhere from one to three hours, depending on the ambient temperature. Afterward, the joints between the bricks are cleaned with a wire brush, and any minor imperfections are immediately repaired.
What cannot be seen in these pictures is the truly important part. The people who spent over two weeks building this stove established their own rhythm. After breakfast and gathering the day’s materials and tools, they worked—punctuated by breaks. Their movements around the structure resembled a slow, deliberate dance. Every step of the construction process was carried out with attentiveness, mindfulness, and joy. The breaks were meant for rest, yet they also served as opportunities for dialogue—discussions about function, design, execution, and how the stove would eventually be used.
For some people, laying masonry is like meditation. But that is another story.
The hot gases in the fireplace flue flow around the body of the barrel, transferring their heat to the material. Reinforcing mesh is incorporated to increase structural strength; it also supports a layer of facing bricks until the mortar joints have cured.
Dörte lays a course of bricks that will form the flue. The bricks are positioned first, and then the narrow gaps between them are filled. An open space is left in the center to accommodate the stovepipe, which will serve as the final exhaust outlet.
The first covering layer is plastered to provide a good base for the next layer, following the curve of the barrel vault.
At the rear, the combustion gases flow around the closed bottom of the barrel. A small pillar is positioned in the center to subsequently transfer the weight of the chimney downwards.
The construction using the screed mesh creates the space for smoke extraction.
A row of tiles prevents obstruction by the mortar that will secure the furnace pipe.
The stovepipe is fitted and walled in.
The stovepipe is also a donation. It was given by people from Abberode (in Germany’s Harz region) who had jointly purchased a traditional four-sided farmstead and were converting it into a community project. They, too, had chosen to store old building materials rather than simply discarding them. We found exactly the amount we needed in their collection—on the very day we planned to install the pipe.
The top layer is constructed using bricks, and the space around the flue pipe is sealed. This creates a flue system in which the hot exhaust gases from the fire first flow around the barrel, then move forward along the top arch toward the flue inlet, and finally flow back through the pipe itself to the 90-degree bend. This extends the path of the exhaust gases and increases the stove’s efficiency, as the heat remains near the baking chamber for longer.
The mortar for the final top layer has been mixed with tile adhesive. This creates a denser material that water cannot penetrate as easily, which offers an advantage during winter frosts.
The opening of the combustion chamber must not be too large in relation to the diameter of the flue; the gases should primarily exit through the flue. Additionally, this design helps prevent flying sparks. Old, resinous wood is prone to minor explosions, so a controlled, small opening reduces the risk of fire. Furthermore, this allows the combustion chamber to retain heat longer after use, benefiting the adjacent terrace.
Guide rails have been installed to hold the baking trays. Depending on the tray size, 3 to 6 trays can be used simultaneously.
The rails are screwed together and after two careful heating sessions in the previous days, the system is heated up to “operating temperature” for the first time as a test. The oven offers different temperature zones. It is hottest at the top at the back (300 – 400 degrees C.), the temperature at the bottom at the bottom is moderate (150-200 degrees C.).
Toast Hawaii… in 5 minutes…
Depending on the toppings and temperature, the pizza is ready in 10–20 minutes…
Gratinated turkey breast with couscous, baked in an ovenproof ceramic dish for 25–30 minutes.
Chocolate cake baked in a spring form pan; ready after 25–30 minutes using the dying heat and embers of the fire pit.
This article is dedicated to Daniel. He contributed a brilliant solution to this construction project almost in passing: his suggestion regarding the technical setup for the rails inside the baking chamber—simply screwing them in works too! People like Daniel embody the true essence of community: taking action and thinking things through.
The citizens of Saxony-Anhalt had a choice; the people of Gaza, right now, do not. While we are hanging oven doors on their hinges, others are knocking the world off its hinges.
While others attack, restrict, and dismantle social spaces, we are building up social places. And we invite you to fill them with life and activity.
We will build the next oven in Tarragona, on a friend’s festival grounds. But that is another story.
