Heat
,
Humidity
& Fragility
Thinking touch in Hong Kong
Wout Maas
5934451
wjm1988@live.nl
Supervisor: Yolanda van Ede Second Reader: Mattijs van de Port Third Reader: Olga Sooudi
This thesis is dedicated to Winnie Lai Wing, who dissolved the dichotomy of
anthropologist and artist into a swirling duality of being.
Acknowledgements
As an anthropologist trying to become an artist, or an artist trying to become an anthropologist, I have met many intriguing, kind and inspiring fellow human beings while researching materials and touch. I would first like to thank my supervisor for her trust and her belief in this anthropological experiment, but mostly for the space she gave me to formulate arguments in my own sensory and material way. I appreciated her openness and the
understanding but also her more practical input which necessary to complete this project. I would also like to thank Herman Verhagen whose pottery journey coincided with mine several times, both during fieldwork and before it. The third person I would like to thank is Winnie Lai Wing, who moved me deeply with her kindness, presence and warmth when I was searching in Hong Kong, the same goes for Julee Chung. I would also like to thank my friend Bee Chan, whom I barely saw due to my own busyness and who helped me find accommodation (I still feel bad about my absence Bee! But I will come back sooner or later). In Tung Yao I met Amanda Tong, Sky and several others, who shared their passion and enthusiasm for the ceramic process with me (as well as their challenges), subtly introducing me to the importance of heat, humidity and fragility in the ceramic process and beyond. I would like to thank Calvin Chan for his fascinating stories about Chinese ceramic history and his love of (beautiful) bowls and Japanese pottery and artisans. Special thanks go to Monica Chan who told me about her ceramic work in relation to the expectations of touch, and who helped me when I lost consciousness during my last class at LUMP Studio. Finally, my thoughts go to Sara Tse, who is a gentle artist, who has managed to transfer this quality into her touching work, work which brought back the dream of becoming a writer. A final thank you goes to my parents, who often help when I least expect it.
Table of Contents
What, where, when, how, why? Searching in places of heat, humidity & fragility
5
Part 1: Ways of Making, Material Appreciation & The Materiality of The Ceramic Process
18
Ways of Making
28
Material Appreciation – Touching Others In Ceramic Form
35
The Ceramic Process – A Description of Its Material Agency
42
Part 2: The Gentle Touching of Heat, Humidity, Fragility & Porousness
55
A Conclusion Made of Thoughts
65
Part 3: Is this tangible?
66
What, where, when, how, why? Searching in places of heat, humidity &
fragility.
When I spoke to Ilona a few years back she gave me a bored look as we sat in De Volkshotel, drinking black coffee from thick, mass-produced porcelain cups decorated with stale ceramic transfers.
'Pottery? Really?' I was disappointed by her response and mumbled 'Yes, well, it can be quite interesting, I hope... look...' I took my phone from my left-hand pocket and showed her some of the things I had made on the potter's wheel and with a 3D clay printer. 'Oh, sorry. I am sorry.'
'What?' I laughed.
'This is beautiful! I just thought... you know, I was thinking of chubby, old guys with leather cowboy hats and green rubber boots making this... ugly pottery, with pine trees on it. You know, brown stuff.' This conversation was a long time ago, I have not seen Ilona for over a year. We both attended an orientation year at the art academy and now that I begin writing this thesis, this subconscious image suddenly emerges. Pottery has many associations depending on context. Of people, of things. Sometimes it evokes images of middle-aged women and men wearing rubber or cotton aprons, attentively staring at a centred, revolving lump of clay. The end result being a somewhat listless attempt at making, lacking a bit of enthusiasm. A ceramic thing which seems simply content like its maker, the joy in the touching. When I traveled to Hong Kong for fieldwork this was not at all what I encountered, on the contrary.
Many young people engaged passionately in the handling of clay and the making of ceramics, and directly or indirectly in a shared tactile ceramic past. Interestingly, many of these youngsters come from higher middle-class backgrounds, have decent jobs and are drawn to this seemingly modest profession. A trend also noticeable in Europe, where the interest in crafts and trades is on the rise. In this thesis I will argue that this move is aimed at a search for ‘material appreciation’ by shaping sensory orders with heat, humidity and fragility. Using senses as vulgar as touch. At least ‘vulgar’ according to some academics researching this topic.
The passion and talent of Hong Kong ceramicists were obvious and necessary in Hong Kong's hyper-capitalist environment, where financial and material pressure demand honest commitment and seriousness. Winnie Lai Wing- whom I met in LUMP Studio -explained to me the necessity of a museum like hers (M+ Museum); there was not- yet -much general appreciation for (visual) art in a place that is fueled by finance and technology, a place obsessed with efficiency and convenience, she explained.
There is a reason why Hong Kong is often inspiring dystopian science-fiction films; the economic inequality in the city is extreme. Technological disparity and access to material and financial resources sharpens this divide further. In line with this social-economic setting all my interlocutors went to prestigious schools and
universities, ranging from Cambridge University to Central Saint Martins in London. Since my research revolves around the sensory and material dimensions of (ceramic) art and anthropology, this social-economic divide played a material role but to a lesser extent than I had anticipated. Though it is an element present in the lives of the people I met, it was not a determining factor.
Hong Kong is an interesting research setting because of its mixture of Asian and Western influences; its hyper-capitalistic setting leaves room for a ‘Western’ inspired individualism and those who value it, yet its Chinese heritage also sets the stage for a more harmonious, collective longing in which family and tradition take centre stage (Tsang, 2004: 76). The Hong Kong identity, I was told, is unstable because of these sometimes
contradictory influences. Hong Kong is also relatively close to major historical ceramic centers (countries and cities) such as Jingdezhen, Japan, South Korea and Taiwan. I was told how Japanese potters- in particular -were admired for their dissolving of craftsmanship into art and vice versa, blurring these seemingly distinct lines with time and practice. As to Hong Kong as a research setting (main-land) Chinese culture has a much richer history in ceramics compared to Europe, specifically in regard to porcelain production and advanced kiln construction. At the moment Hong Kong is a SAR, or Special Administrative Region which preserves existing social, cultural and economic structures within a CPC political framework (Tsang, 2004: 86, 224).
I understood that in practice the one country, two systems approach is more one-directional than claimed when another interlocutor- Sara Tse -told me how Cantonese classes in primary school had been replaced with mandatory Mandarin classes. My research took place mostly in Sheung Wan (上環) at Tung Yao Ceramics (童窯) run by Amber Yoyo Lei and A Minute Studio (一分間) run by Calvin Chan. Sheung Wan is a central neighborhood in Hong Kong with many handicraft shops, art galleries and excellent (vegan) restaurants, not to mention Jazz bars and young, fashionable people. Another pottery school was located in Wong Chuk Hang (黃竹坑), an industrial area. This was LUMP Studio run by Liz Lau. These two neighborhoods in Hong Kong were my main research locations.
I went to Hong Kong with the intention of doing pottery like my research population (consisting of ceramicists, potters, ceramic artists and possibly more important, the ceramic process itself) and- perhaps -to finish an art project I had started two years previously during an internship at an Amsterdam-based potter (Herman Verhagen, who runs J.C. Herman Ceramics in Amsterdam). Based on the literature- mainly David Howes -I decided on 'participant sensation' aimed at ceramic practice and process against the backdrop of an Actor-Network Theory methodology and a sensory methodology of touch, in an effort to retrace the tactile traces and interests of my interlocutors within a ceramic network (Howes, 2003: 43).
The challenge with touch is that it is not quantifiable and supposedly subjective. Yet it also forms a bridge between (social) structure and agency, being the place where these are contested (think of border walls being scaled or a royal and commoner making love, these material and sensory acts overflow with the symbolism of power). From an empiricist perspective touch can also serve as a source of valid, scientific knowledge, making the case for a more subjective methodology based on experience. Though Howes- a sensorial theorist -is quick to warn that our whole sensorium matters, not just touch - which means all five senses, and which is the 'the most
fundamental domain of cultural expression, the medium through which all the values and practices of society are enacted (Howes, 2005: 1)'
For this thesis I would like to go beyond mere sensory and material fieldwork though, and follow Sarah Pink who '(…) investigates the possibilities afforded by attending to the senses in ethnographic research and representation (Pink, 2009: 3)’. It is more interesting to criticize and/ or communicate aspects of materiality theories and sensory theories (and experiences) through actual (pliable) materials and their surfaces. Through ceramic objects evoking knowledge and experience using non-verbal and non-visual means. A concept formulated in materials, objects and sensory input. In other words (materials?) to think and reflect with materials and the senses on materiality theory and sensory theory. Because of the centrality of the human, social sense of touch followed by a- sometimes sudden -jump to materials such as ceramics and clay or Actor-Network Theory, it is important to note my (ANT) methodology is inspired by Antoine Hennion's concept of attachment. But what exactly is Actor Network Theory? And why is it difficult to disentangle the philosophical, academic parts of this theory from its practical, methodological parts?
Actor-Network Theory, according to Bruno Latour, is often misunderstood and oversimplified. Latour explains ANT is not only interested in the nodes of a network like clay, ceramics, people or techniques. It is more interested in the shape and quality of the relationships between these actors and actants. Actors and actants who are never stable or final (unlike problematic concepts of relationships such as culture and identity which often lack processual ‘essence’). Using ANT methodology means that the social no longer takes precedence over the natural or material world; the focus is on what matters and emerges on the scene, what is relevant locally and an ANT approach can be post-human, post-social in this sense (Latour, 1996: 372-374). The social and meaningful can certainly be investigated but only as a part of a larger, inconclusive and open whole. Another important point to emphasize is ANT's associative nature. This does not mean observations and interviews were not useful methodological tools in Hong Kong but that the thoughts of this thesis and the fieldwork are and have been -consciously associative and partially inconclusive/ open. I try to present a structured narrative here but again, the writing and thinking informing this thesis are also associative processes (Dankert, 2011).
In a way ANT also does away with the authoritative voice of the anthropologist and for good reason: we tend to fill up the blanks of our research with neat, explanatory concepts such as economics, politics, society, culture, identity and so forth. I do not reject these concepts entirely but agree with Latour on their too final and stabilizing qualities. Like fieldwork ‘(...), it starts from irreducible, incommensurable, unconnected localities which then, at a great price, sometimes end in provisionally commensurable connections (Latour, 2005: 370).' For this reason my emphasis was on the ceramic process and how it informs material, sensory networks during my fieldwork. Through ANT’s associative methodology I searched for potters, ceramicists and ceramic artists, clay types, tools, materials and (local) techniques. Through it I hope to reinterpret the field's knowledge and experience. This narrative will be partially material, this is also why ANT is central to this thesis; by presenting ceramic objects I show how loosely related ideas, concepts and theories come together through materials and objects, and can be grounded in these. Latour says it best, as he describes that '(…) an actor is always a network of elements that it does not fully recognize or know (Latour, 1996: 147).'
What may seem a- consciously -fragmented thesis at first reading should make sense after touching its ceramic parts, when using and thinking about the ceramic works presented in the last chapter. A chapter off the page which solidifies the thoughts I share on paper.
I divided my research questions up into abstract, theoretical research questions and concrete, material sub-questions in relation to Actor-Network Theory and sensory anthropology. The two main research questions of this research project are: How can anthropological and/ or tactile knowledge from the field be transferred through the ceramic process in ceramic form (research question as a ceramic artist/ anthropologist)? And: How does the potter's/ ceramicist's touching and thinking reflect material and sensory meaning within or during the ceramic process? Of which elements does this thinking/ experiencing through ceramics consist as a tactile form (research question as an anthropologist)?
I have three sub-questions which I will partially answer in the first part of this thesis. These are as follows: What do potters/ ceramicists in Hong Kong try to transfer in the making of ceramics? Is this tangible? What are their work-styles and to do these styles of making relate to specific clay types? Is this tangible? What ways of touching in the ceramic process do I see and feel?
Why this research project, in this manner? I have already given some methodological and theoretical reasons. However, it is good to delve deeper into materiality theory and sensory theory before I continue with my argument. These debates are at the heart of contemporary anthropology. Where anthropology originally began as a social science inspired by positivism, for quite some time it has been moving away from this scientific tradition towards a more human-centred approach which deals with discourse, (inter)subjectivity, practice and human experience. But new questions arise when we reflect critically upon human experience, when we realise how these are always grounded in material and sensory realities regardless of what we like to think. In contexts such as the ceramic process itself (or the senses for that matter).
Daniel Miller begins his book Materiality (2005) with an introduction of the- apparent -difference between the material and immaterial. He uses the example of religion for this; behind the obvious materiality of life lies the supposed real. This view seems paradoxical considering the use of material objects and things for the expression of the divine, but it helps to understand materiality through the lens of immateriality (Miller, 2005: 103). In our 'modern,' capitalist society the acquisition and consumption of material goods takes center stage. To be human is to consume and this has become a material goal in and of itself. Though Karl Marx would argue that to be human is to produce without experiencing alienation. Not merely to consume. In fact, the making of material objects and things can deepen our understanding of ourselves and our (material) histories, as making creates new knowledge and reveals past traditions and techniques. In Hong Kong too there is a renewed interest in traditions such as Chinese medicine and pottery production techniques. Making can show us what our human nature is like (Miller, 2005: 5-8), part of which is extending our (physical) capabilities by means of (external) technology.
In materiality theory it is also vital to nuance the connection between subject/ object and their mutually defining qualities, and in effect nuance the false dichotomy of mind and body by emphasizing the process of objectification; of constantly making objects either linguistically or materially. When we look at the material and maker it is obvious the two are always intimately intertwined, to take them apart is absurd and non-sensical (for
example, cogito ergo sum is quite difficult when skipping a meal or several at least for someone who is diabetic, like me) (Miller, 2005: 13, 14). The ‘material’ in common language is often seen as the amount or the nature of artefacts. Miller goes on to say that what we see as 'external' to an artifact '(…) the ephemeral, the imaginary, the biological and the theoretical (…) (Miller, 2005: 10)' is in fact implied in the artefacts themselves be it through function, material or ideas related to artefacts (hence, my question whether artefacts can be theory or vice versa). Things, Miller says, are defined- in a basic sense -as tangible and lasting, though he is quick to point out this definition is necessarily 'vulgar' reluctantly referencing the verbocentric and occularcentric bias of academia he argues against.
Things form a frame; they set expectations, guide practices, they influence us. 'The surprising conclusion is that objects are important, not because they are evident and physically constrain or enable, but often precisely because we do not “see” them (Miller, 2005: 11).' Bourdieu forms the inspiration for this claim, thinking of objects as being able to socialize humans, as a means to an end. Objects colour (social) relationships, they shape (material) habits and in doing so they create habitus. This means the properties of objects (or materials)- as I also witnessed in Hong Kong -are partially internalised (Miller, 2005: 12, 13).
Another interesting quality of objects is their potential to become alien to us even when we have made them; other people perceive them differently and in consequence use them differently. This is also part of 'objectification,' not only the making matters, eventual use is of equal importance. Objectification reveals how agency can become part of objects, and how actants are hybrids of things and people. Latour's Actor-Network Theory comes to the fore here; society is not everything, the natural and material world are also agentive and capable of altering interpretations and their use (Miller, 2005: 17, 18). All these elements mingle.
Based upon materiality informing immateriality, and immateriality informing materiality, the most important conclusion from Miller's work is that we cannot strip away the potter from her/ his ceramics; in making, both are present through the continuous process of objectification. Process takes precedence over analytical distinction. Material circumstances- in this context -can guide immaterial ideas, it also becomes clear there is a fine, ambiguous line between these sides of the same, material coin. Miller supports his point on materiality theory with the example of the Klein bottle, which combines thinking with actual form by creating a material paradox in the shape of a never-ending process. Since this style of thinking is also part of my argument I provide a quote of his remark here, by '(…) drawing or modeling a Klein bottle we can give form and give mathematical substance to an idea that is otherwise quite difficult to conceive of – something which has neither end nor beginning' (Miller, 2005: 39).
Klein bottle, a process in material form
Another interesting strain of materiality theory is Latour's Actor-Network Theory. I have already
mentioned parts of his theory because this approach is both methodologically as well as theoretically relevant for my research project. I will provide a more extensive explanation of his work here, emphasising the philosophical dimension of it.
As mentioned, Actor-Network Theory is not necessarily interested in the loosely or tightly integrated nodes of a network (which can be anything ranging from the ceramic process to people to highly specialised pottery techniques), it is interested in the definition and quality of the relationships in between the nodes of the network (between ceramic work and thought on paper, or an anthropology student and Hong Kong pottery techniques). These are telling, though nodes matter too (Law, 2009: 145, 146). Networks consist of actors and actants, which are never stable or final. ANT can be used in post-human, post-social fashion: this does not mean the social magically disappears, but simply that it no longer takes centre stage, natural or material phenomena can be just as important. In this sense, ANT is irreductionist and relational in its approach of (social, material) reality. Actor-Network Theory also tries to solve dilemmas which have become ingrained in social theory over the last decades by rethinking matters of distance (which should not determine the quality of a connection), scale (which is not hierarchical, and does not oppose individuals with groups or institutions), the local/ global (these qualities are always present together), the inside/ outside ('The surface “in between” networks is either
connected- but then the network is expanding -or non-existing’ (Latour, 1996: 372). The actor-network generates effects: it does this by tracing and inscribing itself as a network. A fitting example of this is the ceramic process itself, which combines both material and social input in the production of ceramics, conditioning the body, as a place where the knowledge of the network is internalised (Hennion, 1990: 220).
Latour defines the- sometimes -interchangeable definition of actors and actants when he says: 'An “actor” in ANT is a semiotic definition- an actant -that is something that acts or to which activity is granted by others (Latour, 1996: 373).' ANT does not provide models for human capacity or capable objects, it merely describes how these function. It places discourse and meaning in a larger (material) context where language is turned into an intermediary once more, instead of it being a mediator in and of itself (as was the case with the linguistic turn). In contrast to many social theories, an ANT researcher does not determine beforehand the
possible actions of actors and actants; this definition is simply left to the field. Semiotics must be extended to things, implying they act and speak as well but are not language itself (Law, 2009: 141). In ANT the researcher does not disappear from the theory or the field, the resulting explanation of ANT research should be a result of the network itself (does academic jargon do justice to a teapot?). Proof is then added, never subtracted or distilled. In relation to this, Latour asks us: 'What happens when a circulating object [in a network] leaves the boundary of a text (Latour, 2005: 378)?'
John Law tells us Actor-Network Theory is a type of material semiotics. 'Like other material-semiotic approaches, the actor-network approach thus describes the enactment of materiality and discursively
heterogeneous relations that produce and reshuffle all kinds of actors including objects, subjects, human beings, machines, animals, 'nature' ideas, organizations, inequalities, scale and sizes, and, geographical arrangements (Law, 2009: 141). The argument of material semiotics is valuable for this research project, since it provides a more material framework for Actor-Network Theory. According to Law, ANT is empirical in nature just like sensory anthropology, it is also not really a theory in that it does not provide grand, explanatory narratives: it is descriptive, describing how networks are integrated and work, in a way more akin to actual, 'down-to-earth' field-notes (Law, 2009: 143). As noted before, it does away with the act and idea of purification in which social scientists select- in theoretically biased fashion -what is convenient to present for the argument, after which it is often decided to polish and discuss specific examples. Material semiotics insists on precariousness, process and the sometimes uncomfortable disorder of daily life. This idea relates closely to the emergence of this thesis.
Thus ANT focuses on relationality/ associations. A simple example from my fieldwork is the intimate connection between Jingdezhen (景德鎭) and Tung Yao Ceramics, where the clay types exported to Tung Yao originally come from Jingdezhen and quite literally caused changes in the pottery studio and the ceramicists there. A common technique used in Jingdezhen- which was used to fill the orders of ancient emperors from rising and falling Chinese dynasties -is throwing off the hump. This technique allows for larger-scale production but also makes it easier to work with the fine clay types common in Jingdezhen, such as porcelain. Another useful insight from Law's material semiotics article is his idea for a '(…) thick description of things (Law, 2009: 142)' along with people, where the object uses its material form to describe itself.
Throwing off the hump by Amanda Tong [Source: https://www.facebook.com/amandatongceramics/]
Connecting Actor-Network Theory to touch is more problematic though: human touch is informed by social, cultural ideas while ANT asks us to look through material and natural lenses as well. Antoine Hennion provides a route in between the post-human, post-social approach and the human sense of touch. He uses the concept of 'attachment' for this: when the ceramicist engages in the ceramic process, he or she transcends the actor-network in relation to it. Our thinking does not have to stop with the senses then: it continues in the emergence of ceramics, through Miller's objectification. Hennion speaks of a subject-network approach as being embedded in '(…) this form of “attachment” which we attempt to describe as that which allows subjects to emerge - never alone, never a pristine individual, but always entangled with and generously gifted by a collective, by objects, techniques, constraints (Hennion, 1990: 220).' What emerges through touching is still a decentred network; it is a matter of self-abandonment into the network itself, through momentary embodiment of the (ceramic) network itself (Hennion, 1999: 221). Cause and effect fade through attachment. This is a type of self-dispossession which can only be achieved by skilled experts such as potters and ceramicists, who in this event combine practices, objects, space, time, relations, groups and explanations in one grand swoop of making. The ceramicist is seized by ceramics, transmuting herself into a ceramic state (Hennion, 1999: 242, 243). As a ceramicist this rings true; the idea of becoming one's clay, one's tools, one's space, one's kiln and one's teacher.
After this still abstract introduction it is time to descend a bit further into the material world. After all, the ceramic world is material through and through, consisting of clay types, tools, and embodied skills. Tim Ingold’s thinking inspires the following paragraph on materiality. He vividly disagrees with materiality theory as is, seeing Latour's attribution of agency to things as a 'magical' solution to the problem of our social material circumstances. Still, I think it is important to retain some abstract perspective such as materiality within this thesis but find myself- as a ceramicist -more drawn to Ingold, who takes actual materials as a starting point for materiality theory. A fair criticism.
Materiality and material culture theorists rarely mention materials themselves, '(…) the tangible stuff of craftsmen and manufacturers (Ingold, 2007: 1, 2).' Ingold asks; '(…) might we not learn about the material composition of the inhabited world by engaging quite directly with the stuff we want to understand' (Ingold, 2007: 3)? This has an important methodological implication since it shifts the focus from 'the materiality of objects' (theory) to 'materials and their properties' (the empirical). For me- in line with my research question -this inspired a question as to how we can interpret materiality theory in material form, in order to see what will remain of it, once applied to actual materials.
Like the mind and the body, mind and matter are not separate things; materials are not blank slates that are simply shaped by thought projection. There is already some friction between materiality and materials, then. Between the ideas about a teapot and the entity of the teapot itself, for instance. Ingold is careful to separate artefacts from materials though for the sake of analysis, he makes a distinction between artefacts which are 'touched' by human beings compared to 'natural' materials which are often unprocessed (Ingold, 2007: 3, 4). But in practice this distinction does not hold up, he emphasises. How exactly do we define a material world? Ingold references the work of Gibson for a categorization of it: the material world consists of mediums (which allow us to move, offer little resistance, transmit radiant energy and mechanical vibration; overall they allow us to use our senses and perception - think of air), substances (which are solid or solid-like, are resistant, have a shape and a non-homogeneous texture - think of rocks and trees) and surfaces (which reflect radiant energy or absorb it, pass vibrations on to mediums, touch mediums, and are what our bodies come up against in touch - think ceramic surfaces). Through this categorization, Ingold explains why he disagrees with materiality theorists: things are active not because of an added agency but because they are caught up in the currents of the life-world yet they also have inherent properties (for instance, ways of handling and making ceramics) (Ingold, 2007: 1, 5).
However, this does not completely clip the wings of Latour's and Miller's actants. Imposing mental realities- such as materiality theory -upon materials is not a straight-forward matter, any ceramicist can tell you this, but in the making itself the material has actual agency. I remember the first class I attended at LUMP Studio when Monica Chan asked us to make a clay vessel we would like to fire. Immediately phones were taken out of pockets and screens soon displayed beautiful vases, cups and bowls on Instagram. By the end of the class fellow students looked at their work somewhat stumped. It was not quite what they had had in mind. I felt the same way but the feeling was not unfamiliar. Theoretical thinkers often refute materials and things as being vulgar. Ingold finds this '(…) slippage of materials to materiality’ (Ingold, 2007: 7) problematic since there is nothing in between our thoughts about materials and the materials themselves. No nuance, no process. We could argue the same for
a sensory-oriented thesis: what is sensory about the thesis when it is presented in writing (the made, representative thing)? Perhaps it is sensory but it is so in a muted way.
Though I agree with Ingold on the missing of materials and senses, I would argue that materiality theory and sensory theory play an important role in our becoming aware of (the nature of) materials and senses, and could even inform them more thoroughly. Possibly deepen them.
Humans take over where non-humans left off in case of materials. Think of skins, wax, wool, hair, bone, sinews, feathers, dung, fish, eggs; all materials which can be used for painting, weaving, growing and making (Ingold, 2007: 7). A ceramic example is the use of bone ash- made of animals -a famous glazing technique. Ingold finds that in materiality theory, objects tend to forget their materials when the 'thinginess' obscures its parts despite things acting back, materials acting back. How do we define materials, then? Ingold tells us we may want to look at the properties of materials '(…) every material has inherent properties that can either be expressed, or suppressed in use (Ingold, 2007: 13).' It is about the qualities a craftsman or woman can bring out. These are subjective, these mingle with the human body (in particular, the senses).
The properties of materials such as clay are processual and relational, they are experienced in practice and this is where and when they have (embodied) meaning (Lock, 1993: 135-137). In the process or way of making. Clay types and ceramics come to embody the potter, ceramicist or ceramic artist and whatever is in their bodies. Materiality and touch do not exclude each other, quite the opposite.
Touch as a sense falls firmly within the sensory debate. The modern Western world has become desensitized, at least academia still continues this Descartian line of thought (Van Ede, n.d.: 1). This means we barely use our senses to acquire knowledge or develop understanding and place much of our faith in thinking. Because the current world overwhelms us, is multiple, fragmented and estranging this is an understandable development. Western culture is also highly occularcentric due to its philosophical tradition (though sight is also an inherently important sense to survive!) and in an academic setting it is also overly verbocentric; the other senses are mentioned but mostly absent in its representations. Mind over matter seems to be the motto of academia (Van Ede, n.d.: 1,2).
The senses create epistemological and ontological challenges, they embed us in questions of being; what is valid knowledge? What is reality really like? Plato was one of the first to introduce the idea of a connection between knowledge and perception, in which the senses shape reason through the processing of sensory information. Plato's example of the cave illustrates this well: by dulling or misleading the senses we can no longer tell what is real. In line with Plato, Aristotle believed we can have an intelligent ‘sensorium,’ the capability to understand through the senses, laying the foundation for the much later (radical) empiricism evolving into phenomenology. Descartes would break this connection of body and mind in the late seventeenth century, literally cutting sense from reason (Van Ede, n.d.: 3-5).
Aristotle was also one of the first to introduce a sensory hierarchy where sight, hearing and smell were human while taste and touch were animalistic, leading to excess (in Christian times lust and gluttony). Based on this Aristotelian model early Christians came to fear the flesh, which was sinful. They considered sight the most objective and holy sense (Van Ede n.d.: 4-9). In the centuries that followed, sense evidence came to be seen as
inexact and incomplete but also highly subjective. Measurement, quantification, standardisation, generalisation and objective knowledge visible on scales, under microscopes and on displays was and still is thought of as objective. Interestingly, anthropology tends to question this objectivity through its Romantic tradition.
Paterson calls this ‘measuring thought’ geometric thinking, since geometry is an abstraction into numbers of reality. The sense of this thesis is touch and it evokes ideas of eroticism and the intimate. The proximity of human touch creates the possibility of intimacy, both sacred and erotic while the source of our tactile experience '(…) includes shape, texture, hardness, size (volume), temperature, weight of objects (Paterson, 2007: 162).'
Touch is more than the grasping or touching with the fingers and for this thesis the emphasis is mostly on the haptic. Haptics are simply defined as the material body touching an object or another body. Touch revolves around not only what we feel but how we feel physically, psychologically and emotionally. During the Industrial Revolution touch was quite suddenly devalued, replacing the making body with the mass-producing machine (or more disturbingly the mass-producing body) something which will be discussed more in-depth in the first part of this thesis in the subchapter Ways of Making. 'Experiential, visceral, embodied knowledge can only be achieved by touch; haptic, cutaneous and kinaesthetic (Paterson, 2007: 148),' in this way touch is a definition of situated knowledge, emerging out of sensory context. Tactile sensations in and of themselves function as knowledge about human being. As mentioned in the introduction, class distinctions can be seen in touch where manual labor (the body as tool) is opposed to mental labor (the mind as conductor). The interest in pottery among well-educated young people in Hong Kong is interesting for this reason; it inverts the sensory order, it is also a way of being sensory and materially appreciated.
To what is touch related? Or, what is a good source of insight on touching, making it more concrete, tangible? For this I used my own experience of the ceramic process. Mainly of the material clay. Ceramics is one of the oldest production techniques known to humankind and it is one of few materials that lasts almost
indefinitely. In The Ceramic Process (1988) Anton Reijnders mentions how '(...), this substance has helped to preserve information which would otherwise have been lost (Reijnders, 1988: 7).' Clay can store and replicate in-formation visually and in tactile fashion. It is a common material- consisting of feldspar and quartz -covering three quarters of the surface of the earth. Working with clay is a persuasive instead of coercive undertaking while enormous amounts of energy are necessary to fire clay. After firing this pliable, recyclable material becomes inert and solid; it can now hold water, it rings when you tap it (Reijnders, 1988: 8). It is a good source of tactile insight for this reason. The ceramic process occurs in a certain order; ceramicists choose a method of making, a clay body, prepare the clay before making, then the clay must dry, must be bisque fired, glazed (this is optional) and finally glaze fired (Reijnders, 1988: 15). The (ceramicist’s) body perceives it differently on the tactile level during the different stages of the ceramic process. A ceramicist always tries to arrive at a synergy between ideas, materials and methods according to Reijnders (who is a ceramicist himself) (Reijnders, 1988: 17. The ceramicist and potter pay close attention to material properties through her or his senses, mainly touch. In turn, using the senses in this fashion shifts tactile being in everyday life as well: temperature, humidity, porosity and fragility become more apparent in daily life and colour and define relationships within the ceramic network, even our
histories and cultures come to define our ceramics. Patience is another quality inspired by ceramics.
An important finding in the field relating to the converting of ideas and human being into materials (or materials converting human being into different shapes) comes from the ways of making ceramic objects. Ways of making occur on a sliding scale, for analytical purposes I have made a distinction between industrial production (mechanical, mass-production by using moulds, efficiency and a strict, predictable glaze formula), craftsmanship (defined by its irregularity, human presence and the embodying of materials), design (where thought and functional ideas inform tactile making) and art (where the concept embodies the ceramic thing, making it almost immaterial through materials).
Unfortunately I did not visit Yuet Tung China Works (粵東磁廠) during my fieldwork. Though this (first) porcelain factory in Hong Kong hand-paints its ceramics, it would still have provided a valuable insight into larger-scale production techniques. As an example it shows the distinctions on this horizontal sliding larger-scale of making are always artificial for analytical purposes. In the case of touch and making during my fieldwork, making was always aimed at material appreciation; sensory skills were developed and material objects were made, for the
appreciation of others, an appreciation of touch. Craft often bordered on design, or longed to become art precisely because it challenged sensory orders related to one’s middle-class upbringing.
After the introduction of all these relevant perspectives on and approaches of the ceramic process and its people, it is time to provide an overview of this thesis' build-up; it is divided into three parts. The first part discusses gaining access to the ceramic process in Hong Kong- to places of heat, humidity, fragility and porousity -it also discusses the ways of making I encountered and the materiality of the ceramic process itself, ending with a discussion of sensory and material appreciation (lightly) inspired by the concept of authenticity. I should emphasise that appreciation borders on authenticity, so my concept is not like classical authenticity in current anthropology debates. The second part delves deeper into the sense of touch, its role in anthropology and its form in Hong Kong, in this part I hope to show how history and culture inform this sense and how touch expresses history and culture in turn, through the example of Chinese medicine and its dualistic idea. The final part is non-verbal and consists of analytic, abstract- 3D printed -ceramic tiles covered in a Chinese (?) copper-oxide glaze, exhibited underneath an infrared lamp, as a theoretical language to be touched. The second object is a hand-thrown, ‘grasped’ tea-set (reinterpreted functional-ware) which plays with the user's agency and touch (handling, touching, holding, using heat and humidity) while combining the potter's body with clay body (in the form of a glaze sprinkled with my blood, hopefully revealing the process of objectification and how this continues beyond the potter’s body). Finally, I will present a suspended 3D printed ceramic object with compartments which communicates the tactility of heat, humidity, porousness and fragility from the field by contrasting a projected, illegible poem in the form of a green, red neon pattern/ Hong Kong billboard about my romantic relationship in the field with the durability of the ceramic object. This black and white object is inspired by the idea- and only the idea! -of yin and yang, which tells us dualities are more likely and beneficial than the dichotomies I began with. And how the fleeting visual and durable tangible need each other to provide the full ‘picture.’
Part 1: Ways of Making, Material Appreciation & The Materiality of The
Ceramic Process
During my fieldwork I did not expect to find, feel and see the perpetual importance of heat, humidity, porousness and fragility despite these elements being central to the ceramic process. These tactile qualities are what shape the potters' and ceramicists' lives and bodily techniques in Hong Kong (and elsewhere). They are also difficult to explain in writing. Though I will discuss these tactile qualities, a feeling of triviality overcomes me. Why would I want to describe these sensations if this is in a language that always falls short? A language not spoken by the potter? The why is I write a thesis which is inspired by theoretical debates, but as I assumed beforehand, merely writing and thinking tactility is not enough. Thinking can seep into touching, touching can mingle with thinking.
The day I went to Hong Kong at the beginning of July (2018) I nervously uploaded my research proposal to my tablet. I arrived too early at the airport and sat down to read my sub-questions once more: How can anthropological and/ or tactile knowledge from the field be transferred through the ceramic process in ceramic form (research question as a ceramic artist/ anthropologist)? How does the potter's/ ceramicist's touching and thinking reflect material and sensory meaning within or during the ceramic process? Of which elements does this thinking/ experiencing through ceramics consist as a tactile form (research question as an anthropologist)?
What do potters/ ceramicists in Hong Kong try to transfer in the making of ceramics? Is this tangible? What are their work-styles and to do these styles of making relate to specific clay types? Is this tangible? What ways of touching in the ceramic process do I see and feel?
I struggled with these questions since they seemed simplistic, yet too encompassing at the same time. Too material and abstract, was this already a paradox or a duality? 'It's a master's thesis,' a friend doing her PhD in anthropology had said 'not actual ethnographic work, you're just learning how to set up a research project.' Still, I was nervous with high expectations. While writing my research proposal I felt occasionally trapped, as if the writing led me away from my body, my senses. Thinking and reflecting becoming an obstacle to the making and experimenting with tactility, instead of inspiring it. The beginning of this research project felt like an uncomfortable dichotomy of mind and body. During the research I learned that sensing ceramics, and thinking are often
symbiotic with effort. Thought and making don't have to exclude one another.
The first thing that happens once I arrive in Hong Kong on the 3rd of July is sensory overwhelm. I look for
an ATM and my bank card does not work. The double-Decker bus I take to the city centre is a bit narrow, and spatially confusing. The smells are hard to place, muffled, mixed: antiseptic, rotting trash and ingredients for Chinese medicine (I learn this later, when smelling a large sculpture in JC Contemporary [賽馬會藝方]}. The heat and humidity slow my movements. I am overwhelmed, these sensations last roughly two weeks. Eventually I mostly forget about the fascinating (yet pungent) smells; delicious food odours mixed with the smell of decaying trash, mixed with the smell of shops selling ingredients used in Chinese medicine. When evening begins to fall, the streets light up in bright neon colours. Yellow. Green. Blue. Red. The cashier does not completely understand me. I realise I have underestimated the language barrier, though I was not far off: there is always someone who
understands you, somewhere. Somehow. The main tactile sensation I notice is the air-conditioning. Its freezing cold versus the humid, scorching heat outside. I do my grocery shopping at Wellcome and U-Select and 7-Eleven. In the supermarkets and convenience shops I notice products from home and England; Toblerone, Tesco. Globalisation.
Bee Chan is unavailable after I leave the airport in the morning, she suggests meeting in the evening. Kay Lim then suggests meeting for a coffee close to Central, she is a friend from a friend. The Pacific Coffee is located under the lawyer's office where Bee Chan works, Hutchison House. We talk about Kay Lim's trip to Amsterdam, not much later Bee Chan walks into the cafe. After an exchange in rapid Cantonese between Bee Chan and Kay Lim, we part ways. Bee Chan and I are going to Yuen Long, Long Ping Station, where I rent a small apartment for the next couple of months. The stairs go on forever, the hallway is contrived, the small apartment is empty and dilapidated. The walls worn, the bed a suspended hard-wooden board. The landlady is from main-land China, she only speaks Mandarin. A business woman on the rise. I sleep poorly on three blankets (by the end of my research), though I start with only one blanket. I end up making love on the bed, next to my small ceramic vessels the night before I depart. The toilet is leaking, the air-conditioning hums and I take cold showers to save on utility costs. Outside the streets are full of neon signs and hidden supermarkets, Chinese medicine shops and department stores. It is hot and moist and rainy most days and as the day begins, the sound of chattering crowds and passing traffic rises up to my window. Occasionally a police car stops at dawn and a policeman with a megaphone shouts something in Cantonese. Perhaps a warning for an impending typhoon. This is my sensory reality now.
Amanda Tong- my main informant -is busy, it is hard to get in touch. Gaining access to places of making proves to be less of a challenge than I anticipated but the reason is not what I thought; I do ceramics and make pottery too and the nature of my work opens or closes doors I soon discover. During my research I feel Amanda takes me less seriously due to our contrasting work styles (mine experimental, uncontrolled versus her
systematic, precise and rather delicate approach). During my stay I receive three e-mails from scholarships I have applied for. One is rejected, it is due to a disagreement between those in the board. Two have approved my request. The Bekker-la Bastide-Fonds and Fundatie van de Vrijvrouwe van Renswoude agree to provide financial support for my stay in Hong Kong. This changes everything. I applied too late for the scholarships so was not certain whether I had the financial means to finance my stay to the end, or even rent pottery space. Now I suddenly do.
The first few days in Hong Kong little happens, I go grocery shopping and drink grape juice that is past the expiry date. I buy siu mai and dumplings and must often guess what I buy when I decide on local food (it is the anthropological to do). I may have underestimated the language barrier but manage to find my way as a sort of tourist. As mentioned, Amanda Tong- my initial key informant -is busy but I manage to meet her on the 5th of
July, 3 PM. I take the MTR to Sai Ying Pun, Sheung Wan. I begin looking for Tung Yao Ceramics where her pottery space is located and soon I am lost in the humid heat, in between tall apartment buildings and stylish vintage shops, on the wrong side of the street. I recognise the vibe of the gentrifying neighbourhood. Hipster I think. It breathes youth, life and a bit of pretentiousness. But nobody knows what I am talking about when I
mention this, there is no such thing in Hong Kong I am told. I sit in Hollywood Park for a while, watch the brightly coloured carp in the pond scatter and reunite until I notice the green glazed rooftop tiles on the pagoda, reflected upon the water's surface. The walls surrounding the park are ordained with similar tiles. Copper-oxide, probably.
Winnie Lai Wing tells me this is a type of historical architecture which you often see in Hong Kong (and main-land China), red combined with green. The designer of the M+ Museum wants similarly coloured tiles on the façade of the museum, she tells me. I think about the Indian tailor who handed me two books with fabric a few days ago. Which did I prefer? I preferred the Italian silk, and not the rough synthetic fabric that was Made In China. I wonder if this is a tactile theme as I daydream in the park.
I stand up, continue my search and walk past a 7-Eleven when my eye falls on two large, celadon vases displayed in a shop window. I check my phone but the GPS is imprecise. [No. 4] Po Yan Street the street sign says, this must be it. Downstairs I see pottery wheels, and a tall girl steadying the hands of a young girl. 'Hello,' she says 'are you looking for someone?' She stands up.
'Yes, Amanda. Oh, wait, yes. Up the stairs, right?' A small piece of paper pinned to the stairs says so.
'Yes, up the stairs.' She sits down again right across from the mixed glazes and clay types in the storage cabinet. On the first floor I look around, two girls in the back giggle when I walk in, they are holding freshly fired ceramics and quickly avert their gaze. A bulky young man is wedging a couple of kilos of clay on a flimsy, creaky wooden table. Right of the stairs I see some shelves with Amanda's work. Black mingled with white. Thin. Intricate. Precise. But somehow not fragile. Amanda sits in front of her potter's wheel, hunched and concentrated. I walk up to her when she slowly turns.
'Ahh! You found it, finally! You are... how do you say your name?'
'Woot. Wout. It doesn't really matter, whatever you are comfortable with,' and I make a careless hand gesture with my left hand 'Hi Amanda.'
Amanda tells me to sit down in her dust covered corner when I notice her potter's wheel. A Shimpo RK 5T without the foot pedal. We discuss my research plans and Amanda tells me about Calvin Chan, a friend of her who is an architect- who happens to be a designer of the M+ Museum in Hong Kong, which is still under construction -and is running a small pottery studio in Sheung Wan. I stand up and touch one of her cups. Thin. The inside has been glazed. Since it is porcelain, this is normally not necessary to make it watertight. The outside feels like softened porcelain, the inside like glaze (or glass, which it technically is). I recognise this design choice from the potter- Herman Verhagen -I used to work for.
‘I also glaze the rim, some people don’t like the texture of the porcelain clay when they drink.’
As she says this I carefully touch the rim of one of the cups. Indeed, there is a thin line of glaze on there. Amanda stands up and reaches for a circular hollow donut-like shape, it is hanging from the ceiling and she pushes it softly. The sound of a bell. ‘Chinese medicine,’ she says ‘it was for an exhibition. Then she reaches for a thin, dark wooden tray with five cups on it.
‘It is about yin and yang.’ ‘About balance?’ I ask.
‘Yes, in Chinese medicine it is important to restore, or retain balance. I was ill once, too hot. And my mother made me some soup to balance the warmth. It worked.’
‘I know what you mean,’ I say as I point to my insulin pump ‘I have diabetes, and... it was poorly regulated for years, until... until I started eating lots of fruit and vegetables.’
Amanda fervently nods in agreement.
‘I mean, a Western diet... Well, normally it is not very healthy, you know? Until I started cooking a lot.’
‘Exactly. That is Chinese medicine, balance and eating or drinking the right things. Things that people seem to have forgotten.’
Tung Yao is a play on words, it means something like 'nursery rhymes' in spoken Cantonese but the written signs translate as 'child kiln.' To my surprise, Tung Yao has excellent connections with Jingdezhen. The
clay types in the studio are mostly from the famous porcelain city. It has a material and historical link with Jingdezhen.
I ask Amanda whether I can rent work space in Tung Yao. ‘I think you can, yes.’ We go downstairs, she speaks in rapid Cantonese. I hear a couple of English words. Porcelain theory? Chinese history? I explain I am still waiting for my scholarships. Amanda says it is fine. I explain I am not very experienced firing porcelain vessels (or clay). Amanda says she can help me. We can fire our work together.
Tung Yao is founded by Amber Li and has excellent connections to Jingdezhen. The clay types here are mostly- if not all -from Jingdezhen, and the tactility of the clay is more ‘unprocessed’ compared to the (too) smooth ones I use back in Amsterdam. The staff in Tung Yao varies from graphic or visual designers with little experience in ceramics (despite being interested in the ceramic process) to experienced, skilled potters such as Amanda and Wong (a potter who only speaks Mandarin and feels embarrassed when I try to speak English, thinking we can at least try, he disagrees). Most people here have a degree in higher education, either in
ceramics, visual arts, theatre or interior design. The techniques I witness in Tung Yao are throwing, hand-building and glazing. A potter’s bodily basics. Japanese spiral wedging is a technique used by Amanda to merge two types of porcelain. One black, one white. A material reference to the balance of yin and yang in her work.
Tung Yao is a ceramics platform which aims to promote ceramics as an art and craft in our daily lives I read on the promotional flyer, they organise regular tours to Jingdezhen. Wong creates work for exhibitions, while ceramics/ education are Tung Yao’s main focus, potential clients can also place orders when they walk into the studio. Though Amanda’s studio is located within Tung Yao and she works with them, she tries to focus more on her own work: which is mainly sold through exhibitions, though she also sells functional-ware on the side. Her ceramic shapes are extremely smooth (she sands the porcelain), thin/ balanced and oval, round. Her previous firings frequently resulted in batches of vessels emerging from the kiln cracked and broken (due to Hong Kong’s climate) but she has managed to find a new working technique that is more in balance with the local climate, a first inkling of the importance of humidity and heat. She mentions this during our interview:
'So yeah, uhh... you know, as a ceramist you sort of have to work with the weather as well because, you know, Hong Kong is such a humid... humid city compared to, you know, London [coughs]. So you've got to watch your clay drying really carefully.’
When I look at Wong’s work, I see his forms have a distinct pear-like shape, his plates consist of very strong, clean lines. In Jingdezhen fashion his work is usually quite thick, probably inspired by the smooth, fragile porcelain clays from Jingdezhen which crack when thrown too thinly.
That same week I visit LUMP Studio located in another prefect, on the eleventh floor of an industrial building. On floor 11A I see a green door with a chalkboard sign saying LUMP Studio. There I talk to Liz Lau, who I do not immediately recognise but she recognises me from my e-mails. I also speak to a gentle, soft-spoken, pottery teacher.
'You can attend classes here,' she tells me. 'Okay, can I do throwing classes?'
'No, look, full. Sorry.' She holds up her phone. 'What classes are available?' 'Introduction course.'
'All right, then I'll do that one.' 'You must register online.' 'Okay.'
Liz and I speak about an upcoming presentation by a local potter.
'He's studied at a British university, his English is actually flawless but the presentation will be in Cantonese unfortunately.'
I think about the material as an actant, as an informant in my research telling geological, chemical and human stories. Absorbing the skills of this Cantonese potter into its local clay body. Liz mentions the porosity of this particular local clay type. Soaking up water. A brittle structure. Again the term, porosity. I think about Herman's clay dug up from the Amsterdam canals which was brittle as well. He hated the material.
LUMP studio is founded by Liz Lau. The staff here consists mostly of advanced and skilled ceramists/ potters. The distinction between student and teacher is more clear, though ceramics classes can also be attended at Tung Yao. The students are mostly (young) women with a degree in higher education, or with university degrees. Professions for students varied from curating for a local museum, to investment banking. Like Tung Yao most people are in their twenties or thirties, with the people in charge being mostly in their forties. Techniques taught here are throwing, hand-building, slab-building, making plaster moulds, wedging, and glazing. I only interviewed Monica Chan, who is a ceramics teacher and sells her work through local art galleries. Her work represents fabrics and has organic, wavy shapes. Her flyer for the exhibition was also displayed visibly in Tung Yao.
I will meet Calvin Chan later, after roughly one month. We connect well and he is interested in my research though unsure what to make of it. He teaches in his studio (A Minute Studio) but also takes pottery orders. When we finally meet he is working on plates for a vegan restaurant. During my fieldwork I learn about his- momentary -preference for a red/ brown terracotta clay with grog. Later on I also hear he is a student of Sara Tse, a locally well-known ceramic artist. His work is inspired by Chinese ceramic history and he continues an old Chinese tradition: that of mixing the perfect celadon glaze which symbolises the early morning sky (or imitates jade according to others). It depends on who you speak to. I show him the work I am proud of. Including some graphic design I did. 'Looks Chinese, are you sure it isn't Chinese?' Calvin says. I laugh and think about the abstract hand-drawn orchids which I have based on the pictures in the Verkade picture books. Indeed, these intricate floral patterns are a common visual element in Hong Kong’s streets.
A Minute Studio [Source: https://www.facebook.com/aminutestudio/]
Calvin Chan’s studio was the youngest and newest one, he only recently started it. He used the red/ brown terracotta for his own work, and preferred using a smooth stoneware clay in his classes. He began the pottery studio next to his job as an architect, as a means for more self-expression, still deciding on craftsmanship, art or both as a definition of his work. In his work he often uses Chinese ceramic history- which is long, rich, stretching over centuries -as a source of inspiration along with his architecture background. He also uses
Japanese pottery as a source of inspiration, which means he tries to learn a disciplined touch while also playing with very thin, elegant forms. His students are younger than the ones at LUMP studio and several of them run their own studios. They are either beginners or advanced potters. Calvin’s typical method- at least the one he showed me -was firing his clay beyond the cone in the clay’s description (the red terracotta), developing glazes based on Chinese history and throwing small, delicate vessels inspired by Japanese pottery.
Sharing ceramic ideas in A Minute Studio was an important moment, as we sat down and had dinner with Calvin's girlfriend Amanda and another friend one evening ('Yes, another Amanda,' she says). I realise I am using objects, skills and images to connect with others though this does not always work well; the responses are telling. In Tung Yao I sit next to Wong who only speaks Mandarin and 'is like a machine,' he is a master potter from Jingdezhen. The Chinese city with a long history in ceramics, porcelain mainly. Wong is confused by my experimental work-style. I focus on touch and I make a mess, yet, at times I make pieces which are thin and balanced. While my shelves are stacked with sloppy, chaotic, confusing work ranging from thin to thick, his are lined with balanced, evenly sized plates, bowls and cups. The work of knowing hands. Not everybody likes my experimental work. Amanda and Wong seem to find it chaotic and uncontrolled, though I am not certain. Which leads me to the first discovery useful for answering my sub-questions; the ways of making I encountered. And the importance of experiment versus mastery, versus control.
Ways of Making
As a partial answer to my sub-question: What are their work-styles [of Hong Kong potters and ceramicists] and do these styles of making relate to specific clay types? Is this tangible? I would argue that there is a horizontal sliding scale upon which ceramicists and potters try to develop a sense of material appreciation, through the ceramic process itself. This sliding scale consists of different ways of making where the 'first' production style is not about creating lasting value, or acquiring appreciation: it is industrial, it is the making of easily discarded ceramics.
We could argue cheap mass-produced ceramics are less valued and ‘respected’ than hand-crafted pottery, if only because of the higher price. It stands- at least analytically -opposed to craftsmanship, design and art. In practice these dimensions frequently overlap, of course. Industrial production occurs in a way that is being criticised much more as of late. It is often exploitative, deepens social-economic inequalities and results in dispossessed labourers in the worst case depiction of it (Calvão, 2016: 451). The labour in mass-production factories is often alienating and the low wages paid are the result of forced material dependency and a lack of- material -autonomy. Actions during industrial production are simplified or assisted by machines (automated, mechanized) and it is no longer necessary for workers to familiarise themselves sensorially with the materials, tools or their fellow craftsmen.
The goal of an efficient industrial production process is creating distance between the product and the maker. Machine-driven production is cost-efficient, for a low price objects or commodities are quickly produced. Time is money. The idea of Taylorism inspired this way of making; it is alienating, repetitive, turns labour into a commodity, asks for flexibility and with time, lower and lower wages. Due to the monotony of the work, industrial production often deprives one of one's senses. Mass-production is about efficiency and the making of large quantities (of ceramics, for instance) creating surplus at the expense of people (Calvão, 2016: 457-459).
From a materiality perspective this is telling: the worker becomes a product, who monotonously consumes the promise of fictional affluence and desensitises herself with distraction. The value which is produced on the conveyor belt is devalued by consumers and factory bosses alike, in a race to the bottom, according to Calvão's somewhat grim perspective on industrial production and labour (Calvão, 2016: 452, 453, 455).
Shepard provides us with another valuable distinction in relation to industrial work. He speaks of work-alienation versus work-satisfaction, this being the result of specialisation: in an industrial production setting, this specialisation is necessarily narrow, it leaves little room for intuition, creativity and emotion. An extreme division of labour, as a result of people merging with machines which creates a repetitive, high-paced, predictable industrial practice that eventually finds its way into the labourer's life as well. Work alienation is defined by powerlessness, meaninglessness, social and self-estrangement according to Shepard (Shepard, 1977: 3-5).
I must emphasise I did not go to porcelain or ceramics factories, and that I also have a suspicion these are not always as 'deprived' as described by the above-mentioned writers; during my fieldwork I noticed there were no conflicts in the pottery studios during work. This was confusing yet logical; ceramics and conflict do not go well together, conflict disturbs the careful handling and production of ceramics. Hence, the ceramic process
always requires patience, even in a factory setting.
However, industrial production was criticised during my fieldwork by my informants. It was also always present in the globalised city of Hong Kong which had all the traces and symbols of exploitative, globalised, mass-producing corporations such as GAP, Adidas, Nike, McDonald's and so forth.
Handmade and industrially produced
Ceramic craftsmanship differs quite a bit from industrial production where materials are brought in from all over the world, to be processed during the industrial process. Most ‘ordinary’ potters intentionally look for local clay types (not always successfully, Calvin's favourite red clay came from California, for instance). They often mix their own clay bodies with local ingredients. A ceramic workshop or space harbours the entire ceramic process within one, smaller space. Pottery spaces contain (settling) vats, kilns, pottery wheels, wedging tables, storage cabinets, potter's tools and glaze areas (Kramer, 1985: 83). This topic also came to the surface during one of my conversations with Amanda where we touched on the topic of the pottery space, tools and production dilemmas which emerge during ceramic craftsmanship:
‘It’s complicated here. We don’t have many local suppliers. You must order large amounts of clay! And we only have ten types of clay here, as opposed to England, where you have maybe... 20.’
‘But you have Jinghdezhen,’ I say. Amanda laughs.
‘That is true, but I still have to buy a lot of clay. And store it somewhere! And space in Hong Kong is expensive. So where are you going to store all that clay?’
I am familiar with the dilemma. Clay is heavy, difficult to transport. In its original state it is not particularly valuable. I now notice Amanda’s studio is really quite small, she works in a corner while the other people work at the creaky wooden tables in the middle of the space.
‘I have some trouble with wedging porcelain,’ I say ‘I have a marble tile and a plaster tile on a work bench, and when I work on the marble it sticks! And when I work on the plaster, it dries up too quickly...’
‘Wood,’ says Amanda and she knocks on the table, and I follow this gesture. ‘Yes! I’ve seen a lot of Asian ceramicists work on wood. So it works?’ ‘Yes, wood is the best option.’
‘I already thought so! Good to know ha ha!’ We talk about her porcelain clay.
‘In England I used to mix two different types of clay, stoneware and porcelain. But that wouldn’t work here.’ ‘Due to different shrinkage rates?’
‘Yes, the weather here is different. So...’ ‘Everything dries faster and differently?’
‘Yes, exactly. It was so unfair. After everything I had learned, I had to start over. So now I just mix black-coloured porcelain with white porcelain. It is the same type.’
‘That is unfortunate, having two different materials is... it’s...’ [I think it is a shame, because it represents the concept of yin and yang on a material level so well]
‘Yes, so now I mix the same type. It works well.’
It is clear how the local environment and climate find their way into this material, porcelain. And into the potter’s mind and thoughts.
