When I stepped through the old door into Mirta’s bottega it felt like I was traveling back in time, when technology did not own our lives and working meant “laboring”.
Biscotto piled up on every shelf, sketches pinned all around, brushes, easels, pieces at different production stages, busy people sitting at small desks, the perennial grayish dust of clay everywhere. Nobody seemed to pay any attention to me, and I was really wondering if I had misinterpreted the indications I’d found on Mirta’s showroom window in the main street of Faenza.
Then a nice girl looked up from her half-painted plate and asked me if I was looking for Mirta. A hesitant “yes, I am,” and I was told, “She’s in the back room”. Impossible not to feel at home! Continue reading