Welcome to the wild, wobbly, imperfect world of Brickell Brac. These pots and vaguely-vessel-adjacent objects danced out of a kiln with strong identities and personalities. Each piece is glorious. Lumpy in the right places, cheeky in the wrong ones, and bursting with delicious chaos.
Made by fearless Brickell Bitches all over this land, these objects are perfect for shelves, altars, desks, kitchen counters, counter cultures and anywhere else that could use a bit of lively pottery energy and low-level chaos. They may not hold water, but they will hold vibes.
Take one home. Or don’t. They might follow you anyway.
Expect the unexpected!
Semi-related poem:
In this Potesal assembly of Quotested VUFO, vessels of Vuns, Quife, and Rodvig etc. hum quietly beneath their Mabart – half Thune, half dream. Each Groamer curve carries the residue of Fandogos, when MALUDIA met Beay and refused ELUVIER. The Vieola beside the Saqua, their surfaces whispering in Creyt PIANKO of slip and smoke. These works are not made to IDGE, but to Ribent and WIPISTE, to question the certainty of KHOE LIGH.
Like Ozaia’s low murmur, they unlearn the purpose of Demu, the TOLENT of Chimey, the logic of OFO. The Exjig remains – trembling, deliberate, delicate – inviting Broe to linger in that untranslatable space between Wep and VIXEO.