The idea of creating a box containing fire hot enough to turn glass and metal molten has always intrigued him.
The fascination with fire began at an early age beginning with outdoor camp fires and fireplaces for barbecue.

"I’ve been building brick structures since I was a teenager in Florida, where we had an abundance of bricks. I would build brick fireboxes for outdoor cooking. On one fireplace, just to see how hot it could get, I put the discharge side of a push mower in a special vent chamber I built. The flame shot up high, and ever since then, I’ve been hooked on building kilns."

Josh has built at least 20 kilns since coming to Washington. Many of them have been in his backyard. Fortunately, he doesn’t live in a homeowner’s association neighborhood, and his neighbors have been tolerant, if not amused.
 
"I’ve created some spectacular kilns where flames have shot out of the stack some twenty feet in the air."

Once, he experimented with wood pellets and they burned badly. Black billowing smoke belched from the chimney. He was concerned that the fire department would come running and shut him down and that would be the end of it. It was then that he began a quest for a piece of property where he could build and fire his kilns and not have to worry about disturbing his neighbors.

As his kiln designs became more sophisticated, and his firing more controlled and hotter, he began experimenting with melting several types of glass that came from a variety of sources. He has fired pyrex glassware from the Good Will, beer bottles of many different kinds, and marbles - just about any glass that interests him.

The kiln designs that he creates are like Brutalist architecture. His works are also informed by Brutalism in that they are the result of a process using a basic material (glass), relying on a form to contain the substance. Lindquist designs and builds the kiln, chops wood and fires the kiln. When the temperature is right, glass begins to melt. When it melts, he has little or no control over what happens. In this regard, he is like a potter who consigns pots to the kiln, never knowing exactly how things will turn out, especially in the sense or tradition of Japanese Anagama kilns that are wood fired.

Annealing is always an issue. Lindquist lets the kiln set for days after firing, allowing the glass to cool down slowly.

"Opening the kiln is always an adventure," he says, "even if nothing much has happened. Every time I fire, I learn something new."

When Joshua was very young, his family heated their New Hampshire home with wood. He learned to chop wood from his father and was always involved in harvesting and stacking cordwood.
 
"So I don’t mind chopping wood. I enjoy the exercise. A rhythm develops. Chop wood, feed the fire. By the time the kiln is firing hot enough to melt glass, it is usually dark, and the kiln just takes over. Open inlets here, close outlets there. Oxidize, read temperature, fire hot, then shut down. Wait. Then see."

Lindquist's philosophy is that the sculptures make themselves. He provides the incubator in which they naturally form.
 
"I create a stage for a performance to take place. Sometimes there has been a symphony. Sometimes a dirge in the dark."

Not all kilns are successful. Not all firings are successful.

Since Lindquist has a full-time job there is no pressure on him to create work for a market, or to conform to prevailing attitudes about making glass objects. He has developed a style, a method, and a body of work that he says "comes from the sheer enjoyment of making."

Lindquist discusses having learned craft from his grandfather:

"As my grandfather used to say: '...if you aren’t having fun, enjoying what you are doing, then change what you’re doing…' "

Lindquist remembers what his father often told him about art and the process of making:

"Only a conscious observer can understand the happy accident when it occurs. Pay close attention with eyes wide open…look for the unusual, the aberrations that are out of the norm. That is where the art is…"