4 December 2011

Why I'm a potter not a sculptor

Arriving in America for the time is rather surreal, very familiar and completely new. And having to get imediately to work the morning after just felt wrong. No sightseeing? No shopping? No gawping. We stayed at Alexander Inn on South 12th and Spruce street (highly recommended) only 10 minutes walk away from the convention centre via Reading Terminal Market and you couldn't want for a better more concentrated experience of a new country than its oldest indoor food market. Fruit and veg (piles of asparagus) meat & fish, herbs and spices, cheese, real maple syrup, Italian coffee, Amish fruit juice, Chinese cornbread, French patisserie, shrimp gumbo, chocolate brownies, cookies, cup cakes - sorry I should be talking pots - set up, sold a few, packed up, came home.
Now what was I saying about the food?
(I love food, food goes on plates, potters make plates, food tends to fall off sculptures)

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