Title: reCLAYmed – The Ancient Knowledge and Its Modern-Day Legality.
Program: Traditional, Illegal — A Series of Food Activism Events conceived by Nikos Karaflos for Dexamenes
Location: Kourouta, Dexamenes, dex.Silo.01
Ceramics in Greece have long been more than a craft—it is a vital part of cultural heritage. For centuries, pots, urns, stamnas, gastras and jugs were practical tools for daily life, but also expressions of ingenuity: locally made and designed to endure. Today, many of the material choices and techniques rooted in this ancient knowledge sit uneasily alongside modern frameworks that prioritize public health, hygiene, and environmental protection. These safeguards are essential—but they also reshape what can be made, how it can be made, and what can safely enter contemporary food systems.
Resourcing Wild Clay: The Disconnection from Nature
Ancient pottery was often grounded in local clays, gathered close to where life unfolded. In contemporary food-contact contexts, however, “local” is no longer enough: materials and finished objects are increasingly expected to be traceable, testable, and documented. Within the EU, ceramics intended to touch food are regulated through compliance requirements focused on limiting the migration of certain metals (notably lead and cadmium) into food—requirements that typically rely on controlled production and verification.
This does not mean that earth-sourced clays are “forbidden” in principle. Rather, the burden of proving safety—through testing and documentation—often makes the use of unstandardized, site-harvested materials difficult to certify for food contact. The result is a widening gap between maker and landscape: a relationship once built on intimate knowledge of place is increasingly mediated by industrial supply chains and compliance regimes.
Waterproofing and Surface Knowledge: Two Traditional Solutions, Two Modern Risks
If clay is memory, waterproofing is negotiation: the moment porous earth is asked to hold liquid, safely, over time. Ancient and vernacular pottery traditions developed many ways to reduce porosity. Two of the most visually compelling—ash-based coatings and resin sealing—also reveal why “natural” does not automatically mean “safe” under modern food-contact expectations.
Ash-based coatings (alkaline mineral coatings).
One traditional approach uses ash—typically from wood—as a mineral-rich coating or wash. When combined with water and applied to a vessel’s surface, ash can act as a flux: under firing, it may form a glassy layer that closes pores. Visually, it can appear as a matte veil, a speckled skin, or a thin glaze-like film—evidence of a pot that has been “sealed” by the chemistry of fire.
Today, however, ash coatings raise serious health questions in food-contact contexts because ash is chemically variable and can concentrate contaminants. Depending on what was burned (wood species, treated timber, agricultural waste, mixed fuels) and what the ash has absorbed, it may carry undesirable metals or other residues. Its alkalinity and inconsistency can also make the finished surface unpredictable. Without controlled sourcing and testing, an ash-coated interior can become difficult to assess for leaching into acidic foods or liquids, especially over repeated use. In other words: a method that once relied on local knowledge and experience becomes, under contemporary standards, a material that must be proven safe—not assumed safe.
Resins (organic sealants).
A different lineage of waterproofing uses resinous substances—natural pitches/resins applied as an internal sealant to reduce seepage, protect contents, or alter aroma. Visually, resin sealing leaves a distinct trace: a darkened sheen, an amber film, or a glossy layer that reads immediately as “coated.”
Under modern regulation, the key issue is not that resin is traditional, but that food-contact materials must be stable, non-toxic, and documented. Resins vary enormously in composition, and when heated, aged, or exposed to alcohol, oils, or acidity, they may release compounds that are undesirable—or simply unknown—without testing. In practice, resin-lined vessels may be treated as non-compliant unless the specific resin, application method, and migration behavior can be validated.
These two techniques—ash and resin—make visible the central tension of this series: the past often worked through relationship, intuition, and repetition; the present works through traceability, standardization, and proof. The question is not whether tradition should return unchanged, but whether ancient knowledge can be reCLAYmed through contemporary research, testing, and care—so that cultural practices are not erased, but responsibly translated.
A Necessary Balance Between Tradition and Legislation
This text is not an argument against the vital role of modern legislation. Public health, environmental protection, and food safety must remain non-negotiable. Yet it is also important to recognize the cultural and ecological value of the techniques these frameworks can unintentionally push to the margins—local sourcing, lower-impact making, and the material intelligence carried through generations.
As we move toward a more sustainable future, the challenge is not a return to the past, but a negotiation with it. Can we reCLAYm ancient knowledge while respecting necessary safeguards—finding pathways where tradition can be researched, tested, and reintroduced without being flattened into mere nostalgia?
“Traditional, Illegal,” powered by Dexamenes Hotel, opens a conversation about this tension: how cultural heritage meets contemporary law, and how we might honor the wisdom of older practices while shaping forms of sustainability that are both meaningful and safe.
In the end, this series invites us to consider how regulation—essential as it is—can sometimes overlook the values embedded in long-lived traditions. It is time to reCLAYm not only materials, but the practices and ways of knowing that have sustained communities for generations.
Participants:
ceramist, researcher: Iasonas Damianos
creative direction, photography, text: Nikos Karaflos
