A year has passed since we were in the wonderful artsy, historic, spiritual center of Oaxaca in southern Mexico, on the verge of the explosion of living and dead humanity that is Dia de los Muertos. These sorry little pots are the result of 1) a worthless kickwheel, 2) bad untested glazes applied by brush 3) poor firing in an unknown kiln.
But I love them.
This unplugged process produced four tiny cups and 15 buckets of sweat. Electricity is a wonderful thing.
Watershed Clayworks 