Ex-Machina & Artefacto
I’ve been sitting with a lump of clay, feeling how it changes with each gentle pressure, and I started thinking—how would a machine perceive that kind of impermanence? Do you ever wonder if a model could capture the subtle dialogue between hand and earth, or if it would just trace a flat, perfect replica?
A machine can map the force and shape changes into numbers, but it doesn’t feel the hand’s intent or the clay’s memory. It will record a series of vectors and a final shape, not the subtle conversation that happens in your fingers. To capture that dialogue, we’d need an interface that interprets intention and texture together—something beyond a flat replica.
It’s true that a sensor can tick away every pressure, but the clay remembers the tremor of a hand, the breath of a pause, the way the dust settles when you stop—those are quiet signals a machine simply cannot feel. We’re always chasing a perfect copy, but in the kiln the real work is what fades and reforms before your eyes.