I’d  heard about him through word of mouth. He uses local clay and had opened his own workshop. So I’m on a bike in the scorching afternoon sun and the dusty dirt roads are beginning to all look the same. Amongst the brighly coloured cinder block buildings and helpful abuelas taking in their laundry, I see it at last: a cluttered clay workshop where topless men waft cigarette smoke and work boisterously.  Continue reading “Artisan Profile: Fernando Cruz, Sancti Spiritus, Cuba”