Between Scientific and Sensory Knowledge: Exploring the Enactment of Clay Sensibilities Among Clay Artists in Singapore

Pottering Around: An Introduction

From clay to ceramics, the potter’s craft and artistic endeavor is a sensory and embodied process that may be interpreted through the broad principles of ethnography (e.g., see Harrington, 1908; King, 2000; Ray, 1932). In a way, the “potter often resembles an ethnographer of clay” given that she is attentive to clay and she is committed and engaged with clay as material which carries through with “prolonged dialogic transformational commitment” (Malafouris, 2014, p. 151). This is akin to a potter’s “feel for clay” through the “power of perception and action, attention and response” (Ingold, 2023, p. 37). Feeling of and for clay transpires in two key ways. The first concerns how material agency is manifested (Malafouris, 2014). The relationship between a potter and clay stands as one that encompasses fine-tuning of one’s body over time via practice and effort, as well as how the potter is implicitly an experiential participant of action that is both mediated and skilled. Through this process, Malafouris argues, clay is oftentimes described by potters as something that is warm and living. The second concerns a relationship of submission and dominance. Between the potter’s fingers and clay as material which together bring about improvisations and negotiations that are harmonious, the potter on the one hand “follows the material” (Malafouris, 2014, p. 151), but on the other hand is being dominated by clay as her movement requires a response directed to clay as material. Building on these discussions revolving around the relationship between potter and clay, this article explores how clay artists in Singapore utilize both their scientific and sensory knowledge of clay-making in producing clay works. Based on a study of the biographies and sensory experiences of clay artists and the clay phenomenon in Singapore, we address how clay artists rely simultaneously on their scientific knowledge and understanding of clay firing processes, temperatures, and glazing, together with their sensory judgment and experience of the same set of processes to produce clay works of different design, effect, and form.

Thermoreceptive understanding and knowledge of how clay reacts and behaves toward the different styles of firing ranging from wood-, gas-, to electric-firing are deployed by clay artists in two ways. They do so through both a scientific calibration of temperature, as well as one’s sensory evaluation—including visual and sonic judgments—of fire-control toward producing intended textures and forms as conceived by clay artists. Our analysis is contingent upon the embodied experiences and sensibilities of clay artists, drawn as well from one of us who is a clay artist and an anthropologist. Through making sense of how scientific and sensory knowledges are concurrently enacted but not without contradictions, we illustrate how creative clay work-making straddles across different domains of learning, knowledge use, teaching, and evaluation. The uses of knowledge in clay work relate to kairos where one is sensitive to timing and feeling (Carlo, 2017; Gelang, 2021; Platovnjak & Svetelj, 2021) as we explain below. The article therefore contributes to extant debates on art worlds, material culture, sensory knowledges, and embodied experiences through clay work as a medium of analysis.

The bulk of our primary data for this article—apart from secondary data collation including archival media reportage, clay exhibition booklets, online media texts, and others—is generated from semi-structured in-depth interviews carried out with a range of clay artists in Singapore. We categorize the range of clay artists in terms of their years of experience and recognition by members of the community. There are three categories: first-generation potters with many decades of experience as practitioner and/or teacher with students who themselves are teaching; second-generation potters who are practicing and teaching; and third-generation potters who are students and/or practitioners. To add to the diversities of experiences, we took into consideration different avenues of them acquiring their clay knowledge and skills, whether passed down from one generation to another within the family or through classes or apprenticeship with senior potters as well as formally in an art school.

Having a clay artist in our research project provided some “insider” knowledge of the pottery community in Singapore. This eased the process of identifying the clay artists for the different categories as well as in contacting them. More pertinently, such knowledge also facilitated the interview sessions, where clay firing and glazing processes among others were discussed with some broad tacit understanding between interlocutors and researchers. Most of the interviews with the clay artists were conducted in their respective studios. Surrounded with bags of clay, electric and banding wheels, kilns, and pottery tools in ceramic cylinders organized in some kind of order provided us with a sense of the kind of spaces that clay artists work in.

Sensory Pottery: An Overview

Clay transforms from nature into culture. In tandem, where biology provides the clay, “culture is the potter” (Howes, 2005, p. 5). Glassie (1999) made an interesting, sensorial, and embodied portrayal of pottery and clay work:

Pottery makes plan the transformation of nature. Clay from the earth blends with water from the sky. The amorphous takes form in the hands. The wet becomes dry in the air. The soft becomes hard and the dull becomes bright in the fire. Cooked, the useless becomes useful. (Glassie, 1999, p. 222)

At a pottery exhibition that both of us attended, one of the potters put up a statement as captured in Figure 1 below, which reads: “I wanted to make a bowl today, but the clay interrupted and said—what are you doing?”

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Figure 1.

Spekkoek: A group exhibition about pottery, January 2, 2023.

Similarly, a retired school officer and part-time pottery instructor was quoted as having said that

Clay has a certain life of its own. You may want to do it, but the clay may not be able to do it. You have to sense the clay. Push it a bit, and it may collapse. Give the right touch, and you can create something beautiful. ¹

Phrases such as “clay speaks to me,” “I become one with clay,” or “clay is alive” (Malafouris & Koukouti, 2022), or “clay has a certain life of its own” as indicated above—are common among potters or ceramic artists. For skilled craftspersons like potters or ceramists, they are the ones who are more able to identify and articulate the animate qualities of both tools and materials with which they work and which demonstrate their skills and craft (Malafouris & Koukouti, 2022). Where clay forms a part of who and what they are, then, it may be suggested that:

It is for the anthropologist (or any other concerned participant observer) to figure out what it is about clay and the ways of the hand that the potters are trying to communicate when they speak of the life and agency of clay. (Malafouris & Koukouti, 2022, p. 271)

While we may agree that if the anthropologist does not possess the vision, abilities, and sense of the potter with her apprehending of haptic perception, then such ethnographic strategies as participant observation and reflexivity among others should be deployed. However, as one of us is both an anthropologist and a ceramic artist, the point here is then to embark on both ethnographic as well as reflexive journeys in unpacking what it means to work with clay and for clay to work with potters; something that we elaborate upon below. One might also say, of potters and anthropologists, that “one makes through thinking and the other thinks through making” (Ingold, 2013, p. 6; emphasis in original). If the potter creates and makes things, then the anthropologist observes and understands (Malafouris & Koukouti, 2022), and we strive to do these two concurrently given our positionalities. We also concur that the final authority does not necessarily rest in the hands of either the potter or the anthropologist in ascertaining how the perception and analytical takes on the agency, life, or language of clay transpire. Instead, both anthropologist and potter may form a partnership (Malafouris & Koukouti, 2022) in exploring clay processes and in exchanging pottery knowledge and ways of knowing.

Cumulatively, what we are appreciating and analyzing in terms of the relationship between the potter and clay constitutes “participatory sense making” (Fuchs & De Jaegher, 2009), a term that Malafouris (2014) borrowed from these authors. A “common intercorporality” (Fuchs & De Jaegher, 2009, p. 465) is thus formed, as social interactions “oscillate between activity and receptivity” as well as through both “‘dominance’ and ‘submission’” (Fuchs & De Jaegher, 2009, p. 476). Although the potter is skilled and becomes more skillful over time with practice and dedication, the clay likewise responds and either allows itself to be manipulated or that it defies the potter’s fingers. The potter and clay can both participate in each other’s sense making because the potter as maker carries out movements and perception–action loops which are interwoven dynamically, and which resonate simultaneously with the physical qualities and the affordances of clay as material (Malafouris, 2014). Potter and clay therefore share a “multi-modal kinaesthetic transaction”; as the potter pays heedful attention to clay and its expressive affordances, the clay recursively responds to the potter’s creative affordances (Malafouris & Koukouti, 2022, pp. 266–267). In the end, any “true conversation between maker and material must be expressed through different sensory modalities,” with some prominent candidates including “sound and hearing, visual resonance, feel, [and] touch and tactility” (Malafouris & Koukouti, 2022, p. 266). These diverse sensory experiences form a central query for our research as we narrate and explore hereunder the different ways in which the senses are imbricated in clay processes.

We ask how the senses matter in one’s experience with and the learning and teaching that revolve around clay processes. We also interrogate how potters, artists, and students of clay acquire their knowledge about clay as material, and clay work as process. Specifically, we propose that our interlocutors strike a balance in their deployment of scientific/technical knowledge, and sensory knowledge or knowhows. We further demonstrate how such negotiations take place across the different stages of clay work, as well as how such knowledge is shared or transferred to students of clay. In doing so, we rethink the polemics of scientific versus sensory knowledge and suggest as a focal point, the different layers of imbrication that draw forth interpellated and kairotic ways through which (clay) knowledge is utilized.

From Clay to Ceramics: A Sensory Introspection

My (Suriani) first encounter with clay was in 2001 when I signed up for a beginner’s pottery class. I can still remember how much I enjoyed the first session learning how to turn a ball of clay into a little cup using the pinching method. We were given two different types of clay—a smooth and rough clay. My teacher, Iskandar Jalil, a renowned potter and awardee of the National Arts Council Cultural Medallion for Visual Art (1998), explained that we needed to know the different characteristics of clay. He added that knowing the characteristics will determine how much pressure we have to exert on the ball of clay to open it up into a cup. I remember struggling with the rough high-fired raku stoneware clay. The roughness of the clay from the grog content meant that too hard a pressure resulted in cracks. Afraid that I did something wrong, I smoothened the cracks until Iskandar clarified that these cracks are characteristic of the raku clay. Today, I use raku clay because of the cracks that provide the rough texture I want in my artworks.

In the following years of learning pottery with Iskandar, I acquired the skills of different pottery handbuilding techniques and throwing on the wheel. I learnt glazing methods as well making my own glazes using recipes rather than ready-made commercial glazes. The big step in the learning process was learning to fire our works—bisque and glaze firing. ² We learnt to do the firing in pairs, initially watching our teacher and recording the firing cycles in a graph. The big day came when Iskandar announced that together with my firing partner, I could start doing our own bisque firing. My first glaze firing together with my firing partner was in 2005. Following the firing cycle in our notes, we managed to bring the temperature to 1,280°C with reduction by the end of the firing. I felt a sense of accomplishment that I was able to see through the process of turning clay to ceramic (Figure 2).

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Figure 2.

Glaze firing cycle graph.

I initially thought that the process was very technical. Getting to know the characteristics of different clays was about textures, colors, flexibilities, and the firing temperature to give the results I would like to have. Throwing on the wheel was about centering, plunging, opening, pulling, and shaping the clay. Making recipe glazes was chemistry to me—a subject that was not of interest. Firing was methodical in knowing what happens to glazes at different temperatures with oxidation or reduction. Iskandar encouraged his students to document the processes of making. He also recommended making notes of all aspects of our works—type of clay, glazes used, glazing technique, type of firing (oxidation or reduction), and the results of firing. Trained as an anthropologist, this made sense to me. It was like making field notes. My clay field notes are filled with recommendations of what (not) to do, glaze recipes and results of firings. The process of making ceramics is complex, and recording the varying experimentations is useful to avoid mistakes and repeat good results (Figure 3).

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Figure 3.

Notes on glazing and firing results.

On hindsight amidst the structures of documenting and the technicalities of materials—types of clay and glaze ingredients, Iskandar also said, “You need to talk to the clay.” It baffled me in the beginning, and it used to make me laugh, thinking about what language I would need to learn to speak with the clay. As mentioned, I like working with any type of raku clay because of its roughness and the cracks that appear. I have learnt to keep the clay moist but not soft and not too dry so the cracks do not break the clay. Through touching the clay, I know that it is moist. To keep the clay moist, I cover it with a damp cloth. I make a dent in the clay to feel the softness of the clay. Soft clay is malleable and difficult to shape into any form without it collapsing. I will have to wait till the clay hardens a bit, and this is done by leaving the clay uncovered. Each of these steps of touching and feeling the clay have since become my conversation with the clay.

In my ceramics practice, knowing the clay continues to be central. Clay is the basic material in pottery. Ceramic works are made of clay and clay is an ingredient in glazes. Knowing the characteristics of the clay is crucial for the way we handle the clay when exposing it to air, water, and fire. Indeed, potters/ceramic artists are ethnographers of clay as aforementioned. I also think that conversations with clay as a material goes beyond getting to know the clay. Iskandar once said, “You cannot force the clay. You need to work with the clay.” Getting to know the clay is one thing, but what does it entail to persuade the clay to cooperate with you? I was working on a consignment of vessels for a gallery and thinking of finishing the lip (opening of the vessel) differently. I was already planning to embellish the lip with clay coils. As I started to close the lip to make it smaller, the edges of the lip became uneven. I was about to trim away the unevenness when I saw how fascinating the jagged lip looked and left it as it is. From then on, I have learnt through feeling the clay and letting the weight of the clay determine how it will fall or stand to form the lips of vessels I make. Indeed, with practice, a maker can shape the clay into the form she wants. To work with the clay requires not only knowing about the characteristics of the clay but also sensing the clay with your fingers and hands and being attentive to its response to your touch.

Between Scientific and Sensory Knowledge: Knowledge Use and Transfer

We present two key themes here in order to illustrate how respondents deploy both their scientific and sensory knowledge in the process of (1) firing clay using the different types of kiln, including the glazing process; and (2) narrating experiences of learning and teaching. Potters as artists and as teachers relate to the different kinds of knowledge pertaining to clay work and pedagogy. A negotiation if not balance of both scientific and sensory knowledge occurs which reflects upon how the scientific and the sensory work either cohesively or independently in clay-related activities. The broader point here is to uncover how interrelated domains of materiality, agency (Kavedzija, 2019; Malafouris, 2008), sensory knowhows as skills (cf. Kavedzija, 2019; Vannini et al., 2012), and embodied experiences are learnt, taught, and calibrated by potters and artists (Carlo, 2017).

Glassie’s (1999) depiction of clay and the maker illustrates an interesting, sensorial, and embodied portrayal of pottery and clay work:

It takes deep knowledge of the clay to build forms to the point where the walls want to collapse, to let them dry, just enough, and then to add more, quickly, carefully enclosing the void with a damp, flexible cover that is even in thickness. It takes knowledge, and still more it takes imagination, the mental powers of a great designer, to know how to plan and then fashion a coat of clay around nothing into a vivid representational image. (Glassie, 1999, p. 217)

Through our collation of secondary materials including potters and artists’ own biographical write-ups on the Internet among sources of data, direct references to the sensory typically underline a part of their self-introductions, including how they are inspired to produce the works that they create. Clay artist Daphne Pok introduces her embodied relationship with clay:

I first discovered my love of pottery in Hong Kong 2002 and have grown even more fascinated with its ability to soothe and inspire the heart and mind at the same time. Originally trained as an architect, I enjoy the slow but spontaneous and thoughtful process of hand-building vessels and sculpted figures. Guided and driven mostly by instinct and the intrigue of form making, my hand-building starts with a seed of an idea and then develops an identity as I work through it, making aesthetic judgements at every stage. This process allows me to have a dialogue with the clay and know its strengths, weaknesses and inherent beauty. Inspiration comes from the ultimate Creator of nature, textures, shapes and forms that are organic and speak to our visual and tactile senses. I am an advocate for clay as a medium in art therapy, education, and crossing boundaries in language and culture. ³

Ostensibly, the sensory and clay-making go hand-in-hand, not only because it is a relationship that is shared between the potter and clay as hands-on material, but that the sensory occupies a distinct place in the processes of ideation, pinching, firing, glazing, and even in exhibiting one’s work. To center our discussion around sensory knowhows that are interwoven with the scientific/technical, the two themes below accord pointed preliminary data and analysis that unveils what the sensory and the technical both mean in clay work.

Thermoreceptive Understanding and Knowledge

The processes of firing and glazing conjoins one’s sensory, technical, and scientific knowledge. Such processes are also contingent on the type of firing that one deploys—wood, gas, or electric. Different types of firing call forth sensory and thermo-apperception. Seng Khoon details:

I’m a glaze chemist, I do a lot of glazes. . .I love chemistry. I’m not an art person but yet now still doing art. It’s still related to science, I did some sculpture. . . My family did wood firing for 50 over years. . . I use it there over there until here for 15 years and I give up. When it comes to electric kiln, more interesting. The normal people’s mindset is that electric kiln is a dead thing, we don’t see the reduction and color, this is one part which is nothing wrong. But I found that electric kiln inside. . . the glaze, the heat now divide into fuel kiln and heating kiln. Fuel kiln uses wood, oil, gas for fire. Heating kiln is like electric, laser kiln, turn on power is like laser so very fast. Heating kiln is in fact more interesting than fuel kiln, besides wood fire kiln. Wood firing has a lot of elements inside the wood, which turns very interesting. But gas becomes carbon dioxide in the water, it trap the carbon dioxide, reduce it, which affects the surface color, just like maybe brown iron become. . . green iron become copper red, beige white titanium becomes bluish titanium—that kind of thing. But we can do inside electric kiln but the internal reaction. The condition is that we must have good microprocessor controllers. Last time don’t have controller so we can’t do anything. . . Now, the controller, if fire to certain temperature, can hold, errr like glass casting. Need at least about 6 to 7 segments to soak then go, go and soak, then come down. Got one thermal cool base, iron-based, one color but I use a different fire schedule, it turned out 10 colors. . . Because internal reaction, the iron, titanium and chromium. . . Iron, when it goes up to certain temperature, reduce, not reduce but soak a bit, in half an hour and 1 hour, turns out the result is different. Sometimes your glaze inside contains some kind of copper with iron, fire up there and cool down to a certain temperature, stay for certain time, like 1 or 2 hours, it becomes laster, similar to using wood filing or gas kiln. So, heating kiln is doing the internal reaction during the firing but the gas kiln is doing the external reaction. . .

His narration depicts an amalgamation of technical knowhows with years of experience illustrated and influenced through his love for chemistry. He demonstrates detailed comprehension of the different types of firing owing to familial experience; the different types of materials and elements involved; various chemical reactions; and temperature control and management across the different proportions, time, cycles, and glaze reactions. Despite a clear narration that is contingent on the technical and the scientific, Seng Khoon’s next quote reflects upon sensory knowhows that he had acquired from his father, when it comes to ascertaining flame color in firing:

At the time we don’t use thermocouple, ⁴ don’t use cone, use eyesight to see the color. . . study from my father, from dark red, red, orange, yellow orange, yellow. . . then yellow white, white. . . Practice the eyes already because of flame color study. We got to learn. . . Naked eye (to see the flame color; never use eye protection device like goggles etc.). So, my eyes are very good. You just pull the hole on the chamber. The window to see and can tell already. And not only see the color see the brightness also. Not do the temperature the hot, to look at the color. . . And different woods, different color.

When asked if he relied more on his flame color study or the thermocouple to ascertain when the firing is ready or has achieved what the potter intends, Seng Khoon responds with using the flame color because the thermocouple “only give a guide” (Figure 4).

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Figure 4.

Thermocouple.

In more ways than one, Seng Khoon possesses both scientific and sensory knowledges. He is clear about when he deploys which set of knowledge across the firing processes. Specific knowledge is utilized depending on the context of clay work, but that one complements the other. As he opines, one does not necessarily have to be concerned with the temperature since the “naked eye” works just as well in gauging and maintaining a certain intended temperature. Essentially, says Seng Khoon: “Eyes have to see.”

Apart from color flames, Anson speaks of smelling and listening as other sensory modes that are harnessed in firing processes:

When you fire wood and a kiln is undergoing reduction, there is a particular smell in the air, OK, the smell of reduction. If you’re not observant enough, if you not fired, you will not understand. . . It’s a particular smell that which I can’t describe. You have to be there to really understand it. Then by listening, the wood that is cracking. . . ok the kiln is consuming the fuel energy.

Melissa, who holds a Master’s in Business and a Diploma in IT, emphasizes how pottery has to do with science. “In terms of rest of the art mediums,” she says, “I’m not sure how science helps them. But in pottery, you just cannot survive without science. It starts from science and it ends in science. . . Ending is all glazes. If the glazes do not come out right, you know why. The firing temperature was not right, the ingredients were not, all the chemicals that you mix, they were not in right proportion. The colors didn’t turn out right because the temperature, the heat was not.” Melissa further elaborates on how scientific knowledge is crucial when it comes to other specifics like the process of reduction:

So electrical, wood, or gas or whether to simplify terms is oxidation and reduction. You just can’t refrain from adding these words into our conversations. Oxidation, you can predict them pretty well how they will turn out. Reduction is more about playing with the fire and the temperature. It’s total atmosphere. So yes. At this point of life, where I’m pretty familiar with how it is going to behave, I can predict, yes, if I have placed my pot here, probably this will happen to the glaze and I glaze it that way. Okay, I want to put it on the top shelf and I know the flame is going to cross this way, I can visualize that. But in terms of electrical, yes, it happens when the glazes do not turn out they, should have been. Then you try to find out the cause, is it the temperature is not evenly distributed in the kiln, that comes back to the kiln has a problem or the glaze was not applied properly. There are multiple constraints contributing to the, like specific gravity was not right. I’m talking all science I’m sorry.

Although Melissa has consistently emphasized science which governs pottery processes, her preference for wood firing in the ways that she describes, reflects upon a mixture of harnessing scientific knowledge with a sense of un/predictability in order to produce a particular type of effect on the eventual works:

I would say the experience comes into picture where the potter’s experience would play a big role where they would know whether they want consistency, similarity, or they want a totally different thing. They’ll be able to make sure and get the results accordingly. . . In terms of why I prefer wood, given the uniqueness of the piece I would say. Although that one is much more unpredictable as compared to gas as I have experienced, wood kilns are totally unpredictable wherever you place it. Unless you fire those kilns multiple times you understand the kiln. . . Ya, you understand how the atmosphere is specific to that specific kiln. But I think the ash deposit plays a big pivotal role. And if you understand the working of wood kilns and you understand the logic of ash deposits, you can play around with your works, you create that kind of effect in my understanding. I mean, if I if I want something that where I want to capture the deposit, ash deposit, I can conceive it much before okay if I'm going to create it this way and I'm going to put it in the glaze kiln, maybe around in the second shelf on this location, I'll be able to get pretty much what I want.

Different types of firing accord different degrees of predictability, control, and eventual effect/outcome. Where wood-firing stands as the least predictable given the use of burning wood in less than controlled ways as compared to gas- or electric-firing, the spectrum of predictability therefore goes from least to most, as we move from wood, to gas, to electric firing procedures. Melissa notes: “It’s just turning on the switch and go on. . . You don’t have to check the temperature also. You don’t have to do anything at all.”

Furthermore, as one goes from wood to electric, there appears as well to be an inverse relation that the potter shares with her work. The least predictable (wood), the more embodied, sensorial, and hands-on. The more predictable and scientifically calibrated (electric), the less intimate one’s relation is with clay across the firing process, becoming more distant (simply) because science takes over. Arguably then, the more technical and calibrated a firing process is, then the less sensorially connected one would be to the process in terms of not having to monitor closely or to be more “hands-on” given that one’s sensory knowhows to direct the firing outcome is now taken over by kiln scientific set-ups.

Conclusion: Kairos as Process and Moment

Sensory and technical expressions of how one works with clay and how one teaches about clay work may be conceptually framed through the classical rhetoric notion of kairos—a Greek word that relates to dimensions of time and temporality (Medvecky & Leach, 2019; Platovnjak & Svetelj, 2021). Kairos is recognized by the Greeks as one of two forms of time, the other being chronos. Where the latter is quantifiable in relation to seconds, minutes, hours, and days as a linear, chronological time, the former is a qualitative concept that relates to specific moments (Kumagai & Naidu, 2020). Aristotle approaches kairos in the way that relates to right timing, and thereby as a point in time that translates as a crucial moment (Platovnjak & Svetelj, 2021). In other words, kairos is about being able to seize the “opportune or critical moment” arising from one’s enactment of “due measure, discretion, and appropriateness” (Carlo, 2017, p. 98). The potter or student of clay needs to be able to do the right thing at the right time (Gelang, 2021) so much so that kairos constitutes a feeling (Carlo, 2017) and which guides and steers pottery endeavors to fruition. Such fruition therefore confirms the notion or moment of kairos—which connotes a wide-ranging set of ideas (Tindale, 2022; Wells, 2022)—as a specific point in time that is meaningful and hence regarded as the “right moment” (Kumagai & Naidu, 2020, p. 513).

Being able to identify particular opportune moments through one’s feeling and sensibilities are exemplified through how (1) Seng Khoon is able to ascertain temperature through seeing color and making a judgment call on the flame color through the naked eye; (2) Melissa talking about the sense of predictability when it comes to the placement of her pottery works on the top shelf and being able to pinpoint that “the flame is going to cross this way”; or (3) Kwang Jin’s comparison of pottery to flying a kite and knowing when to let go. In Suriani’s experience, talking to clay involved knowing how to apprehend those kairotic moments where the raku clay remained moist but not too soft, and not too dry as well—by harnessing both technical and sensory knowledges. These examples, among others, elucidate how thresholds (Hawhee, 2004) of timing, feel, one’s sensibilities, and experience with clay processes come together in clay work.

We propose therefore that kairotic moments (Carlo, 2017) culminate in two interrelated ways. They either form the meeting points of entwined scientific and sensory knowledge, or emerge through a concerted deployment of either form of knowledge, as we have analyzed through the two themes of discussion. In gist, kairotic moments would encompass what Kwang Jin notes: “. . .you have to feel it and then you can do it. . .” As a conceptual framing, kairos is potentially useful towards explaining how potters know, experience, sense, and create (cf. Carlo, 2017) clay works as they straddle and harmonize between the scientific and the sensory as part of the process.

Having the ability to identify the opportune moment requires emotional engagement with the clay, characterized by “openness” and “recognition” (Brink & Reddy, 2020, p. 38). Openness entails being interested in the clay. Recognition involves responding to the clay. They also allude to the differing levels of skills of potters in their dialogue with clay that requires time. The dialogue with clay of experienced potters is one of emotional engagement where the uncertainty of working with clay is reduced and preparedness for spontaneity is present (Brink & Reddy, 2020, p. 37). As such, differences amongst clay makers, between teachers and learners, could be made on the basis of the ability to discern kairotic moments. In the teaching experiences of potters, there are those like Melissa who are of the view that “not everybody can relate to that” in reference to learners who are not able to make sense of “you must talk to clay” or “clay has a memory” whereas “it’s something already settled” for teachers. This point resonates with kairos and its two sides—where it is not only about one being able to create or identify the opportune moment, but also about the ability of the receiver (or learners in our case) to see and experience that moment (Tindale, 2022).

The negotiation between technical and sensory knowledge, including the deployment of logic both as potter and teacher, reveals key features of pottery and the connection to kairos and kairotic moments. Even if it might be perceived as a craft that involves linear steps, it is simultaneously not a linear process that one engages in (Carlo, 2017) as has been demonstrated through our interlocutors’ varied narrations and depictions of how they both work with and teach clay. Contrary to the linearity of chronos, kairos and its disruption of the linear proceeds through “expectation, attention, and memory” which Kumagai and Naidu (2020, p. 514) identify as the three “modalities of action.” These are also reflected through our interlocutors’ varied relationships with clay. We therefore suggest multiple knowledge linearities in engaging with clay, contingent upon the concurrent welding together of technical, scientific, sensory, and logical knowledge. The relationship of submission and dominance suggested above (Fuchs & De Jaegher, 2009; Malafouris, 2014) is probably possible when kairotic moments are arrived at vis-à-vis participatory sense making (Fuchs & De Jaegher, 2009).

One needs to give room and space for “the clay to intervene and take its own course,” and through which a novice is distinguished from an expert (Carlo, 2017, p. 98). Having a conversation with clay also involves the clay talking back, thereby requiring further kairotic responses from the potter. Afterall, if kairos is regarded as a passing instant of success (Baert, 2021), then such success needs to be achieved through balance where one navigates different positions and eventually finds a “correct one” (Rickert, 2007, p. 75). What is clear for now is the overlaps that both sensory and scientific knowledge operate in concert that establish the skills, experience, and knowhows in pottering around.