prettybabiesglass.com Blog

If you are not a member of the American Art Council (ACC) go out immediately and buy the newest issue of their magazine, American Craft (February/March 2012). As a glass person, as I know a great many of you are (aside from those bots in Latvia) I think it will inspire you in many ways, as it is for me. It’s an exciting issue, not only from the standpoint of the beautiful photos of some the most exciting contemporary craft being produced in America today, but it also includes an article on Harvey K. Littleton, an influential artist credited with the start of what is now termed the studio glass movement. In 1962, Mr. Littleton organized the first seminar on glassblowing on the grounds of the Toledo Museum of Art with the intention of taking glass blowing out of the hands of the manufacturer and scientist and into the hands of the artist. This summer the Glass Art Society (GAS) will pay tribute to that seminar by holding it’s annual conference in Toledo and I for one, will be there.
I think any person creating fine craft to art should allow art history to inform your work. It’s in the context of the past that we understand our own place in the in the scheme of things. In some ways, we all owe a debt of gratitude to Harvey K. Littleton, for bringing this idea into the American art scene. I know I do. My association with glass has changed the trajectory of my life forever. I would have to say many of the blessings and opportunities I enjoy today are directed related to my work in glass.
However, the most riveting article for me in this issue was written by Glenn Adamson (page 19). The author addresses a question from an unnamed source who asks why glass as a medium continues to elude critical acclaim while commanding such high prices compared to other comparable work. His answer is sort of stunning to me, as he blames it all on Dale Chihuly. I feel the collective eye rolling begin, trust me. I would have to agree with him on this point, as Dale Chihuly is the Coca-Cola of the glass world, like it or not. His work, as well as the man himself, has marketed himself in such a way that he garners that coveted advertising position of “top of the mind awareness”. It is the reference point for people of little knowledge of glass art to which they use to absorb what it is that you (or I) are doing for a living. I would not begrudge him that, despite the assertion by Mr. Adamson that Chihuly is the one that has driven the prices so high. So be it. It is what it is.
Mr. Adamson goes on to say that he personally is not a fan of glass in general, or so he was in the past. He is proud to be addressing the GAS conference attendees in Toledo in June as a speaker. He believes that art glass is claiming a place in the realm of true art and in his words “have resisted the allure of perfectly made baubles” and are now making significant work. Bravo Mr. Adamson. I will be bringing my glass cheerleader sensibility to your lecture this summer. I am looking forward to hearing not only about Mr. Littleton, but about your own conversion to the dark side……

Harvey K. Littleton, at the torch, circa 1962-ish

Recently, I started a series of larger pieces that are so big, there is no way they could be worn. Not that I have abandoned the glass corsage, I still love making them and teaching them. I have, however, run out of room, in a way. I made a chicken corsage that was really too top heavy to be worn, but I loved her anyway and decided to make her a ‘ready to hang’ piece instead of a ready to wear piece.
My friends and I nicknamed her “Beyonce’” after the story of the Blogess and her 6 foot metal chicken story that went viral. She doesn’t look much like Beyonce, the metal chicken but the name is stuck.
I started working on that bird series in 2010 when I started exploring the idea of the bird as a metaphor for freedom and creativity. Flying, so to speak. Last summer, while in France, my friend Claire’s husband very politely approached me and wanted to chat about the bird corsages. He want to let me know that he understood I was making birds, but at first glance, he was not able to ‘see’ the bird. I could tell he was very worried about hurting my feelings, as Claire stood next to him nodding. I was anything but hurt, really. That feedback was an act of bravery, as I don’t know Jean-Hughes that well and he was trying to be helpful. He was right. I thanked him and filed it away. Every once in a while I see a post on a forum from our flameworking community of someone who was completely insulted by another persons’ frank omission. If you go to art school, you have to get used to it. It’s not meant to tear you down. It’s meant to make you stronger. A sort of “do these jeans make me look fat?” kind of thing. If you put your work out there (or ask the question about the jeans) do you really want to know the answer?
For me, yes. I want to know. It doesn’t mean I will follow the advice or rearrange everything instantly because I received the gift of a critique. It means I will file it away and consider it thoughtfully. Sometimes I get tidbits of criticism and I blow it off. I examine the statement and decide it doesn’t fit with my mission. Other times, like in the case of Jean-Hughes, I will consider it and find it to ring true for me. I couldn’t help thinking about the encounter last summer as I worked all day on the following piece:

I had been working on some birds destined to be around 3-4 feet high, and realizing I needed to stop and work out some of the engineering design issues, and made this little bird today. He stands about 11″ high and is sort of a cross between a parrot and the little owls I saw in the parking lot in Tucson the last time I was there. He is not finished, I have one more torch session to finish all his ‘parts’ and soon he will be on the site for sale as well as some more ‘Beyonce’ style pieces…. So, this little bird study is helping me with the design aspects as well as the ‘bird’ aspects. I am grateful for the experience, as well as the criticism, as it is giving me the opportunity to grow.
I try to stay open to suggestions outside my trusted group…. my daughter Emily is a really good source for thinking things out as well as my ex-husband Robert. When I was working on this piece, he mentioned the beak looked more like a platypus, than a swan. Since the piece was destined to be named ‘Sinister Swan‘ and ‘Sinister Platypus’ didn’t have the same ring to it, I made the change and it won third place at the Bead Dreams competition in 2010.

So, my long winded post is all about critique and how important it can be to the process. Especially for me. Honestly is often hard to come by as people don’t want to ruffle feathers (no pun intended, promise!) or upset the apple cart. That’s really nice, but does it make you grow?

My friend Sylvie Lansdowne has been crafting a really cool blog that is a spin off of the “Hey Girl….” series using photos of the actor Ryan Gosling. They are directed at the community of bead, jewelry and glass workers that make up my circle of friends and colleagues. It is wonderful to log on and find new ones everyday. It’s the equivalent of the ‘water cooler’ for those of us who work alone in the studio instead of at an office with many co-workers. I was lucky enough to get one of my own…

Check out Sylvie’s blog… she is hilarious! She does favor Gerard Butler, but can ‘alter’ that view for a cup of coffee. Yes, that means she can be bribed!
http://beadedlaughter.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html

This morning on CNN Fareed Zakaria interviewed the famous architect Frank Gehry. He talked about his creative process and how he uses art history to inspire and inform his work. If you are unfamiliar with his work, take a moment and look here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Gehry He talks about the desire for movement in his buildings and how many pieces of artwork in history shows ‘inert material with movement that is palpable’ (paraphrasing that). He cites the sculptures of the shiva or stone panels showing a battle scene in relief as inspirations for making the material appear to move. He says the most effective buildings are the ones that illicit an emotional response. Like this building in New York.

He says that he wanted the folds in the building because he felt it reflected something primal. Like a blanket wrapped around a baby by it’s mother. Its something that resonates on a human level.

I found his interview to be enlightening and confirming to me. I too consider the primal human response and how that informs my own work in jewelry and sculpture. I am inspired!!

Long ago and far away, growing up on the flat plains of Kansas, I began a journey with glass that would take me to places of beauty and wonder. But as I sit here reflecting on the holiday season, I think back to the beauty that shaped who I am.

I remember the first time my mother let me attend Midnight Mass. I honestly can’t remember if it was before or after second grade, as I can’t remember if the Mass that night was in Latin or not. It was just odd to be allowed to stay up past bedtime, get dressed up and go anywhere. It just was not done. However, my mother was ready. She dressed me up, piled myself and all my sisters into her late model car, and drove in the dark to the parish church, St. Teresa’s.

I remember the night being cold, the dim light of the dashboard lights from the back seat as we drove towards downtown. “Wake up Sally!” my sister nudged me as we pulled into the parking lot of the gas station next door. “Why are we parking here?”, I asked. No answer. The brisk wind blew right through the white tights I was wearing. I was conscious of the waistband slowly creeping down as I walked on the uneven but dry sidewalk. One of my sisters gasped. I looked up at the 1910 European Gothic revival church I thought I knew so well. On that pitch black night, all you could see was the interior lights streaming through the stained glass windows revealing all the beautiful colors, painted faces, adorned with the names of long deceased families who donated enough money to have a window dedicated to them. I had never seen anything so breathtaking in my life. I forgot about the cold wind whipping up my dress and nearly tripped on the uneven sidewalk as I could not take my eyes off the blues, greens, the reds… it just did not look the same from the inside during the day. The windows shimmered like expensive jewels. I could not wait to get inside and see how they looked from that angle.

There was no last minute pocket kleenex held tight by a bobby pin that night. My mom was completely prepared. She even remembered the chapel veils. “Ouch”, I said as one of my older sisters jammed the bobby pin into my tender head. “Shut up, Sally” she hissed. “MOM…she said ‘shut up!” I protested. My Mom just said “shhhhh….” as she opened the heavy wooden door from the vestibule to the sanctuary. The windows, sadly, were a blank, dead brown but it didn’t matter. Every light in the church was on. Every inch of the old alter had a bright red poinsettia, the baby Jesus was finally in the cradle of hay that for four weeks was being carefully stared at by large statues of Mary, Joseph, the shepherds as well as variety of barn animals. It was magical.

I guess I fell asleep. I was pretty disappointed, as I was sure I had missed the Angel of the Lord appearing or something biblical like that. But that is the first time I remember thinking that illuminated glass was the most glorious thing on earth and what it must like to be the person who could create such a wonder.

Often times, people endeavoring to make art will call on the talents of others to supplement the vision. I learned this with associations with other artists.. and especially when I sought my college degree in fine art. My collaboration with the public glass artist Dierk Van Keppel was an important step in finishing that goal.

Now, I would like to introduce you to a group that has been instrumental in helping me achieve my vision. Frankie, Vivian, Gus and Hooter.

Gus and Hooter have been working with me for quite a while, while Frankie and Vivian just joined the team. Just to reassure all of you, no team member has been injured in the making of the art. Special thanks to their handlers, especially the ‘foreman’, my friend Kevin Masiulis.

We were having dinner with a group of famous artists, mostly men. The conversation turned to a sort of smack-down for art types. “If you don’t have the craftmanship, go big!” They all laughed. Later one worried that maybe he had inadvertently insulted a dear friend. It prompted a conversation between myself and my friend Lesli Mash, who was traveling with me. Since we both collected miniature things as children, the subject of small came up. I think in my own work, I like big, bold and showy. Partly because it makes a statement, but partly because the bigger the piece, the more room you have for self-expression. We decided that really, smaller is more difficult, because you have less room to work. The details have to be more impressive on a smaller scale. I gave it a shot. It’s interesting to me the way conversation can sometimes direct the muses. Or maybe that’s really ‘it’. Conversation IS a muse.
Demi means ‘divided in half’. Here is my wholehearted, half effort: Demi

In looking back over the past year, I realize I have taught classes all over the US and Europe and this same question comes up over and over…..

“Now, it’s okay that I make these to sell, right?”

How does a teacher answer such a question? My mentors say ‘make it personal’.
The corsages are very personal to me. They are born out of personal experience with my mother (the florist) and growing up in a household where my curiosity and artistic expression were left to grow. My Mom was really creative. She appreciated the little things around her. She pointed out the beauty around us, like architecture (she loved cityscapes as much as the gingerbread woodwork on turn of the century houses), the changing colors of the leaves, the lovely colors of spring. She turned this appreciation for the world around her into her own expressions. I don’t do her work, but her work influences me greatly.
I name the brooches for women I know because each of them touches me in a tiny way. Each one of these women impresses upon me an attribute, an action, a thought that spurs me to make these pieces. It is entirely personal. I think that is why people relate to them, and often want to own them.
I teach the technique in the hopes that the people who take the class will also use the design to make it personal for them. I expect the students to make the same shapes that I do, and I know they are often curious about the mechanics of how I put it all together. I have been impressed with some students who bring their ‘practice pieces’ to class to show me how they have been trying to figure it out on their own.
However, I am most impressed with the students who use the technique to achieve their own personal goals. There are many students who have gone on to really make it their own and I wanted to point out three here today. I hope to continue to add to this list.
The first is Karla Klein, who took my class in Omaha. Karla has always done adorable fish. During the class, she became pretty excited because her ‘light bulb’ went on and she suddenly knew how to use the technique to achieve a goal she always wanted to reach. She always wanted to make the fish look like they were floating above the coral reef. Here is her final product. It doesn’t look like my work. It looks completely like hers. But you can see how she used her new skills to make that happen! It’s adorable!

The next student was also the studio owner. Miriam Steger of the Netherlands invited me to teach at her studio. After the first round of classes, she showed me some things she was working on, trying to make a Hydrangea. In the Netherlands, it’s called Hortensia. This does not look like my work either. I could tell that Miriam would have eventually figured out how to get there, but taking the class got her there faster. I think it’s beautiful and Miriam should be proud!

Lastly, I want to include Barbara Terrill’s piece from the last class I taught this year at Arrow Springs in Shingle Springs, CA. She came to class with many ideas and pieces already made. She also made my shapes, but stuck with the things she brought to class to make it uniquely hers. Again, this piece does not look like mine, but you can see how she used the technique to make it personal to her.

I hope to continue to add to this list. I have taught at around 15 studios to date. All of them with 10-12 students per class. I imagine I will get new photos to post and I will share them here. These are just 3 examples of the work being done, and I am really proud of them.

People ask me. They wonder where these ideas originate. Honestly, it’s not just one thing. Not just one experience or object or artist. It’s truly a combination of many things. Take the eye pod for example….. Several years ago, after a class with Italian glass master, Lucio Bubacco, I found myself in Arizona, waiting for the opening of the Bead Museums’ exhibit, Trajectories. I was waiting at the hotel for friend Gwynne Ruckenbrod to pick me up. I looked down and saw some incredible pods on the ground, like these……

They come from a bottle tree. I knew Gwynne would love them, so I picked some up to show her. When I got in the car, she had the same pods. She knew I would love them too! It was often like that with her. We would show up wearing similar outfits or pick out the same party ware. Anyway, I filed them away for another day.

One day the thought struck me that I really wanted to see that in glass. I took them out and studied it. Having acquired advanced glass skills from Lucio’s class years before, I knew I could push the glass beyond the limits of the bead on a mandrel. I had to figure out how to attach it to my final piece, which took some experimenting, but the final result morphed into the eye pod design that dominates much of my work these days.

Being back in Arizona, it brings much of this creative process for me into sharp focus. The journey here many years ago, sparked a creative journey that I am still enjoying. Just food for thought for all those hungry artists out there. Follow that path.. even if you think what you are making may not sell, may never be shown to anyone, may never help you pay the mortgage. Make it because you want to see it. Then, decide if you want to share it with the rest of the world.

Its been quite a journey. Starting out in England.. Rudston, in fact, 5 hours north of London by train. Then on to Eindhoven, one hour from Amsterdam. Then to Nice, France and finally to Murano in Italy to visit some friends and reconnect with some glass people……I saw churches, cemeteries, monasteries, pubs, cafes, and the living rooms and kitchens of gracious, sweet people. I listened to proper English, Dutch, Belgian Dutch, French, and tried my best to speak Italian. I met talented artists, incredibly gifted glass masters and shared some laughs with friends.


I ate herring, had proper tea, and of course pizza. I ate salmon prepared several different ways.
But mostly I had the chance to teach many eager glass workers across 3 countries what I love to do. For that, I am truly blessed, because I met some incredible people!






For all this, I am truly amazed. Soon my feet will be back in America. The home that I love.