So I made it to the second of the Cumbria potfests. Normally, two over two weekends just seems too much like hard work, but this year, for the first time in quite a while, I got there. It was good, and, unlike last week, I actually spent some money. Even better (after a fashion), they were nearly all presents for other folks - a neat little trick which allows me to spend without adding (m)any more dust magnets to the clutter of home. There were actually some delightful bits of clutter that I didn't allow myself to get, and that's good too. Really, who needs some truly wicked cats (I should mention that nothing on the website is as good as the cats were on the stand), or indeed somehow delightful little dead ones? Apparently the dead ones are remarkably popular - not just cats, but rabbits, dragons, dogs, and the dead sheep had long since run out (well I say run...) because they're so popular - and I can't show you this potter's enormous range of tiny animals (not all of them dead) because I wasn't clever enough to note his name and now I cannot track him down. Sigh.
There were a number of potters making various uses of print methods. Two in particular took my fancy in different ways - Kit Anderson uses gum bichromate printing on her pieces, and Andrew Adair makes deeply imprinted letterpress designs on his.
There were a number of potters making various uses of print methods. Two in particular took my fancy in different ways - Kit Anderson uses gum bichromate printing on her pieces, and Andrew Adair makes deeply imprinted letterpress designs on his.
Anyway, I'm glad I went. The potfest was fun, and the cumbrian landscape was truly awesome - and that was just from the motorway. Sunshine and showers led more than once to near-black distant hills, nearer hills and fields coloured in stunningly brilliant greens that you wouldn't dare paint because obviously they can't have been like that (so wet summers are good for green, if nothing else), studded with freshly washed, sparklingly white sheep, and in front of that, cars sending up clouds of spray seemingly lit from within. Driving down the motorway with a camera in one hand (and actually, due to my old-fashioned ways, pressed to one eye) seemed a deeply foolish option, so I'll just live off the memories.
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