This post is a reprint of a post from July 2008, but it explains a little bit about my work and my evolution as a glass artist.

When you pick up a hobby such as lampworking, one that has many learning areas (safety, materials, process, tools) and has to be done with focused and complete attention, there is a much different learning curve from many other crafts. Unlike a hobby like scrapbooking or stamping, without a basic foundational knowledge, you can’t really start to explore your own vision. Without knowing how to work with gravity and tools, you can’t begin to translate ideas inside your head into glass. Without knowing the different properties of glass, e.g., the viscosity of opaques vs. transparents or the methods for reducing silver glass to get metallic effects, it’s hard to get where you want to go. And although lampworking is relatively safe, you are working with glass that can cut and that gives off fumes, a flame that reaches between 1500 to 2000 degrees F, and a kiln that rests at about 960 degrees F, so basic safety knowledge is imperative to prevent accidents. So it is natural that the beginning of a lampwork hobby or career is filled with learning the basics - getting the glass wound around a mandrel, keeping it warm but not to hot, learning basic shaping, and exploring the many different kinds of glass and how they work together. Most of us begin with a basic round(ish) bead, usually a wonky-shaped donut. Soon we are following instructor suggestions for glass combinations, or are copying beads we have seen in books, or following tutorials we have found on the internet. This is a pretty standard progression, and all along the way, we are proud of the beads we have made, often not realizing how much improvement we make as we ‘practice, practice, practice’.

At some point, usually many along the way, we come across something that really speaks to us. And we use that excitement to refine our work focus, either really working on a specific shape and trying to perfect that, or really exploring specific glass combinations that really seem to speak to us. Of course, there are many of us that continue to dabble in all areas: a bicone here, a floral there, picking up any and all techniques and trying them all on for size. My first inspiration was the long bead: I loved (and still do) the attenuated form, both tube and tapered barrel. And I was going to spend forever making long beads. Then I found the wonderful world of the Pandora-style bead with the added finish of silver coring..., and spent many a month making these all the time...but nothing quite compares to the excitement and possibility that my first droplet beads opened up to me.

My first droplets were a pretty big hit. I had found something that combined my glasswork with my innate modern and minimalist bent. They were full of subtle color, simple forms, layering of glass, and the idea that a piece did not need to be a single bead, but could be a combination of beads to accomplish one vision. Although I have had many people buy these as beads alone, or have made requests for specific colors to place within a jewelry piece, I have also had many customers request the set as shown, intending to wear them as I envisioned. 

The interesting thing that happens as I have begun to explore this more modern lampworking direction is that in attempting to create a focused, overall style for my work and my Etsy shop is that many of the beads that I had so proudly listed no longer fit within the long-term vision I have for my work. They are all perfectly fine, and I am still proud of them, but am almost loathe to keep them in my shop, as I feel they detract from my current focus. In a way, it’s similar to growing out a haircut: there is that uncomfortable period where your hair is neither here nor there and you just can’t wait until it grows out ‘enough’. Hopefully ‘enough’ will come sooner rather than later!

To give a kick-start to the re-launch of my website and blog, I decided to re-run one of my favorite blog posts. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

As I had a conversation yesterday with a couple of my husband’s friends that work in the realm of graphic design and web development, a discussion ensued about the nature of design and the idea of basic design as a cross-disciplinary ability. I found out that one of them had a metalsmithing and jewelry background about which I had not previously known. I related a story told to me by Brad Pearson about a professor of his requiring that for a final grade in a glassblowing class, the students each (separately) bring in the glasswork piece that they believed was the most successful of the year. The professor then proceeded to cover the piece completely with black spray paint (this is glass, remember, it will come off). He then asked the student to look at it again to see if it was still their favorite piece. The point of this was to illustrate that before all the color and decoration that the basic form and idea needed to be a solid and well-realized one.

What the overall conversation distilled down to was that design is design. Changing media or scale is merely a matter of learning the properties and restrictions of the new format, but the ability to design works in all sizes and materials. One of my professors in architecture school was well known for saying that the basic concept that you use to design an entire building should be able to translate to designing a doorknob. In fact, the factors I address designing custom homes at my day job are often the same ones I focus on in my glasswork: namely texture, color, form, scale, proportion and relationships between parts and the whole.

Both of the objects in these images deal with color and texture, albeit on a radically different scale. My interlaced droplet set incorporates the rhythm of the interlocking forms as well as a change in texture between the flat discs and the edges of the perpendicular discs. The 7 separate beads are designed to interlock with one another to create a whole that goes far beyond what a view of one of the beads might suggest. The parts are tied together with the repetition of the spacer discs. The house employs rhythm in the layout of the window and door system, and the continuation of the pattern into the metal siding and sheet metal fascia. The change in texture and color between the stucco, metal, glass and the wood allows each part to become an important piece of the whole composition, while the play of openness against solid structure allows for a hierarchy of form. The volumes interlock in a deliberate way, relying on each other to create an overall composition. Although one requires a knowledge of structure and includes the need to create spaces amenable to living, these are merely added parameters that are built upon the basic design foundation. Knowing how to put together a building that doesn’t fall down and has the spaces required by the program does not make one a good designer. Nor does being able to melt glass onto a mandrel, the basic requirement that separates lampworking from other artistic expression.

I am a sucker for anything design-oriented. I watch the competitions on Bravo - Top Design, Project Runway, Shear Genius, and think that I could probably work in those occupations as well. I put together fun Halloween costumes for my kids with pretty great zombie makeup complete with open wounds and maggots. I often work with my husband when he comes upon a stumbling block in a new typeface he is designing. I’m happy to say that my children are developing an eye for good design and proportion as well feeling confident about trying new creative endeavors.

I have recently been looking at adding metalsmithing to my glasswork, creating fully handmade jewelry items. As I look into the new requirements and constraints of metalwork, I continue to remind myself that design is design is design.