Erik Haugsby

A pottery wheel in a workshop in a cellar in the second district of Vienna and atop it a person and from it from them pots My name’s Erik I make pots They don't belong in museums no yes in hands your hands your lips touch to your lips feel the most sensual public organ the cup tells you. My the pots that scrape and scream I exist and you with me


Erik Haugsby Pottery
Ulrichgasse 1
1020 Vienna