Elizabeth Murphy, Brown University
In a recent article entitled “The Textility of Making,” Tim Ingold deconstructs what he describes as the hylomorphic model of creation (2010). This model views the material world according to conceptions of matter and form and tends to perceive material as static, finished products of preconceived human thought. In response to this ontological view of the material world, he proposes an alternative perspective, which he calls the “textility of making.” Textility, by emphasizing materials and forces, centers on the movement and processes of negotiation between material and human action. Elegantly integrating aspects of embodiment, material properties, knowledge vs. know-how, and agency, Ingold’s contribution offers an exciting perspective to archaeological and anthropological material studies.
In reaction to the work of Ingold, this essay explores the concept of textility in relation to archaeological studies of material culture by considering the dominance of the hylomorphic model of creation within disciplinary methodologies. It goes on to advocate for the study of locations of production in order to better understand complex processes of making. These issues are examined in reference to the archaeological case study of Sagalassos (SW Turkey). In the Eastern Suburbium of the Roman city of Sagalassos are the remains of a once vibrant, ceramic table ware industry, currently under investigation by an international archaeological project based at the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven (Belgium). Excavations and material analyses offer useful grounds for a discussion concerning textility.
Textility and Other Approaches to Making
“The Textility of Making” presents some important thoughts on making and materials. Among the most important points outlined by Ingold are:
• Making as conceived of as interplay between materials and forces, which requires the “tactile and sensuous knowledge of line and surface that had guided practitioners through their varied and heterogeneous materials” (92)
• Consideration of things not as agents, but rather as “possessed by action” within the “generative currents of the world” (95)
• Understanding that the processes of making should not be distilled into a reverse-engineered chaîne opératoire from the ‘finished object,’ but rather as a fluid, forward-movement based on “improvisation” (97)
• A distinction between “iterative” (exact replications) and “itinerative” (similar but variable) movements in making (98).
Ingold’s work, however, does not stand alone. Indeed, it can be considered as part of ongoing, if intermittent, discourses on production. Among the individuals who have approached this topic, Sander van der Leeuw (2008) has commented on the disparity of production experiences between the maker and observer. Those points of view are intimately tied to forward versus backwards–looking perspectives to the production process. In the case of the maker, the individual embarks on a forward-looking process of production that works from the raw materials to the product. The archaeological observer, in contrast, begins with the object and retroactively reconstructs the process of production. These divergent points of departure in considering production processes have fundamental implications for the ways in which the production process and the object are perceived. In an earlier work by Peter Rockford (1990), the author, who is himself a stone carver, describes the embodied, non-verbal experience of a “stone-tool dialogue” as a topic that is generally “given relatively little weight in the literature” (351; also see Richard Sennett’s The Craftsman, 2008). Rockford’s dialogue engages the carver in a process of improvisation between the properties of the stone and impacts of the chisel. In the midst of a single improvised action, the force of the blow from the carver impacts the stone, and in response, the tool translates the properties of the stone to the carver.
The presence of voices, such as these, within the archaeological community, however, remains remarkably meager, and it is interesting to note that each of the authors cited above (rather unusually) have extensive personal experience with processes of production / “making”. This observation raises two critical questions: why has the hylomorphic model of creation become so entrenched in the world of archaeological thought and practice, and what are the intellectual implications for the dominance of such an ontological model?
The Hylomorphic Model of Creation and Archaeological Disciplinary Tradition
Ingold highlights the genealogy of the hylomorphic model (which he traces back to Aristotle) as a strongly western intellectual phenomenon (2010: 92); from this position he observes that material culture studies have developed a particular affinity with the concept. In the case of archaeology, such disciplinary reliance on the hylomorphic model can be perceived in fundamental practices of the field. Most notably, archaeological practice is founded on an assumption that people (past and present) engage in patterns of behavior. These patterns of behavior are significant and are represented in various expressions with the material world (e.g. processes of production, distribution, consumption, use, or discard). By studying patterns in “the material record” it is thus possible (with proper regard given to cultural and natural disturbance) for archaeologists to make broad social interpretations. Although certainly an over-simplified characterization, this rendering of the archaeological process is reflected in material studies that stress perceived morphological patterns of similarity/divergence in objects. By emphasizing patterns of similarity, an often unrecognized preference for idealized morphological forms becomes engrained in comparative observations of archaeological material.
Nowhere is the intersection of the hylomorphic model and archaeology’s disciplinary reliance on what Ingold calls “iterative” patterns of behavior more evident than in basic morphological/typological classification systems (for description of Ingold’s designation, see 2010: 98). As a methodological approach used to distinguish such fundamental analytical units as chronological periods and cultural groups, typological classification systems are rarely questioned out-right concerning their underlying notions of form and matter. This may be, in part, due to that fact that – at some broad level – typological classification systems do seem to work. They have provided the discipline with a means of organizing material and offer the empirical foundation from which broader interpretations can be structured. Indeed, the coherence in organizing ancient material throughout centuries of archaeological study does highlight that, at some level, there are repetitious similarities in form of archaeological materials – perhaps more expressive of what Ingold describes as “itinerative” processes than rigid adherence to a chaîne opératoire (2010: 98). The very narrow way in which form and material have been perceived in the discipline is logically reinforced by the nature of archaeological projects and the research questions being asked. Often material collected from archaeological sites derives from a range of use and discard contexts. Excluded in many cases are archaeological sites of production, resulting in an over-representation and skewed focus on “finished products” and material “successes”, an orientation that can only offer a partial perception of the process of making behind (and within) the object. Thus, it is not entirely surprising that observations made on a rather small repertoire of objects of morphological similarity have been used to reinforce and validate a hylomorphic model of creation based on preconceived, idealized forms.
Sagalassos Ceramic Workshops: A Case Study
Workshops identified in the eastern sections of Sagalassos were actively making red-slipped table wares (Sagalassos Red Slip Ware) between the 1st century BC and the 7th (possibly 8th) century AD (for an example of one such workshop, see Figure1).
Figure 1The six-hectare area of the site is marked by a dense concentration of production-related material visible at the modern surface, and excavations into workshops and production dumps have brought to light significant quantities of ceramic wasters (objects discarded due to production flaws), kiln fragments, and tools. In the study of this material, it has become evident that certain ‘traditional’ ceramological methodologies and conceptual approaches are in some ways insufficient to address the complexity of the material assemblages. This is largely due to the fact that investigations into production / “making” contexts offer a very different image of ancient materials and the processes that made (and continue to make) them. In the ceramic-making contexts at Sagalassos, a wide range of objects offer insight into the nature of human-material engagement in production and what Ingold may describe as the “textility of making”.
More specifically, table wares retrieved from these workshop contexts present a notable contrast to those recovered from other urban deposits. The production material includes morphological forms unknown to other excavation regions in the city and production “mistakes” that do not seem to have been distributed into the city. In contrast to traditional conceptions of morphological typology, which are often formulated from broader urban-use deposits, analysis of material from workshop deposits demonstrates a much more variable representation of forms. Indeed, as has been noted by Jeroen Poblome, material from the production contexts often includes examples that fall outside of the established typology for the rest of the city (Jeroen Poblome personal comm.) and represent shapes that are not known from other urban deposits (for SRSW typology, see Poblome 1999). Thus, it seems that (for reasons unknown) these morphologically divergent vessels were not distributed to the wider urban community.
The occurrence of ceramic production-related materials in workshop contexts, which are markedly different from those found in the nearby urban center, offers another important point concerning the hylomorphic model. As any archaeologist working with a material classification can attest, no object perfectly matches the archetypes on which a typology is based. From slight differences in the underside of a rim edge to the width of a ring base, the variation is infinite. However, such minor differences are often taken for granted, and only when strikingly divergent examples (such as these from the workshop settings) result in a discomfort in attributing a type-designation on the part of the ceramologist is such variation confronted. The point in which an object is no longer ‘classifiable’ is a highly subjective and mutable threshold that has implications on the determination of ‘acceptable’ versus ‘unacceptable’ levels of variation within a hylomorphic model. This example demonstrates how analyses of production contexts present opportunities to more broadly deconstruct morphological archetypes reflective of a hylomorphic model of creation. These ‘exceptional cases’ can be considered as ‘hybrid’ forms of preconceived idealized types (as they often appear to blend traits associated with established form types) or as anomalies of human behavioral patterns. However, from Ingold’s more nuanced perspective of textility, these objects should perhaps be considered as material manifestations of action and engagement that through improvised interactions brought about a unique thing with particular characteristics.
Among the material collected from workshop dumps in the Eastern Suburbium, archaeologists have recovered a wide range of discarded ceramic wasters. These objects display important secondary traces with which to consider processes described in the “Textility of Making.” In particular, Ingold’s description of “making” as a process of negotiation between the maker and material is readily discernible in what are often considered to be ‘failures.’ In an example of a SRSW jug retrieved from a workshop dump deposit (Figures 2a and 2b) a secondary disk of clay was applied over the base.
Figures 2a (top) and 2b (bottom)The base appears to have been first cut too shallow to define the ring base and to endure sustained use. In an attempt to thicken the base, a secondary disk was affixed prior to slipping and firing. As the secondary disk did not remain entirely attached during firing, the underlying wheel-marks from the first (shallow) base are visible. This example offers an interesting point of consideration concerning the relationship between maker, material, and textility. In the process of engaging the clay turning on the wheel, the maker applied force, and the particles, platelets, and inclusions and other constituents of the clay body actively engaged-back with the maker. This process of interaction brought about a series of negotiations – some of which appear to have been unexpected to the maker and which instigated a series of re-negotiations. The vessel with an uneven base never appears to have been “used” in traditional, functional terms and was discarded in the Eastern Suburbium. However, the negotiation involved in its making demonstrates the flexibility and fluidity of the production process, which engages the maker in a series of (often) unpredictable exchanges and precludes the production of idealized forms.
Some Considerations
The examples outlined in the Sagalassos case study highlight some of the ways in which the study of production contexts, as places of making, can contribute to a broader understanding of the issues raised by Tim Ingold in “The Textility of Making”. First, they offer material with which to consider how production processes are a nonlinear set of interactions. Through an exchange of force and matter, the process of making is a constant flow of improvised engagement. These processes can often lead to unexpected exchanges and re-negotiations – such as the example of the secondary applied base. Such improvisation and unexpectedness preclude the possibility of actualizing a preconceived hylomorphic model.
Second, production contexts can offer a more extensive body of material, which is divergent in other settings. Such morphological variance presents extreme instances in which typologies ‘don’t work’ and in which the specialist is confronted with the generalizing nature and the inconsistencies of the hylomorphic model. These morphological typologies are foundational to much of archaeological practice, and unique objects found in production settings, such as at Sagalassos, are disquieting reminders of the limitations and problems associated with idealized archetypal associations.
Third, the unique body of material that is found in the workshops of Sagalassos demonstrates a need on the part of the discipline to explore a wider range of archaeological settings. In the case of Sagalassos, ceramic table wares found in urban contexts tend to represent tighter sets of morphological types, and it is only by analyzing table wares from their production locations that a wider variety of making can be discerned. Although examining why this divergence appears archaeologically is beyond the scope of this essay, the fact that primary artifact typologies may not represent the range of things actually made in antiquity reinforces the disciplinary necessity to explore a wider range of archaeological contexts, particularly production settings, and to question the assumptions underlying these hylomorphic models.
In conclusion, Tim Ingold’s contribution, “The Textility of Making” presents a refined and nuanced discussion on the making of things that is useful to a broad range of material studies. In light of the examples from Sagalassos, Ingold’s work holds particular relevance to archaeological study – from basic methodological approaches to ontological assumptions.
Bibliography
Ingold, Tim. 2010. The Textility of Making. Cambridge Journal of Economics 34: 91-102.
Poblome, Jeroen. 1999. Sagalassos Red Slip Ware: Typology and Chronology (Studies in Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology II). Turnhout: Brepols Publishers.
Rockwell, Peter. 1990. Stone-Carving Tools: A Stone-Carver’s View. Journal of Roman Archaeology 3: 351-7.
Sennett, Richard. 2008. The Craftsman. New Haven: Yale University Press.
Van der Leeuw, Sander. 2008. Chapter 12: Agency, Networks, Past and Future. In: Material Agency: Towards a Non-Anthropocentric Approach, C. Knappett and L. Malafouris (eds.). NewYork: Springer, 217-47.
* Artifact photos taken by Bruno Vandermeulen, and all images kindly provided by the Sagalassos Archaeological Research Project.