Sangkhalok is what the Si Satchanalai kilns sent down the Yom river and out across the maritime trade: shallow dishes under a bluish grey-green glaze, each one crazed with a fine light net of crackles that no potter planned.

The drawing inside is fast — a fish curled into the well in iron brown, a flower centred in the base, then nothing. Everything here is concentric and everything is slightly off-round, because the form came off a wheel and the glaze ran where gravity took it. The footring stays unglazed and fires brick-red.