Lesson 3

When the student is ready, the master appears.  ~Buddhist Proverb

Annette is definitely a master.  Let's just hope this student is ready.  Lesson 3 was frustrating for me.  I want to conquer the craft of glass blowing so I can start creating the pieces I am imagining, but realize how much I have to learn.  Patience has not always been my best virtue, but definitely something I am working on. 

During this lesson, we focused on efficient movement in the studio. Annette taught me different and better ways to move between the furnace, glory hole and bench and I practiced them over and over again under her watchful eye.  I think teachers think students get bored at this stage, and maybe some do, but this is my comfort zone.  I know what I need to accomplish, and no matter how simple the task, I will find a way to do it better every time.  I could do this all day.  My significant other, John, can often be overheard saying, "Don't let perfection be the enemy of done," more so to himself than me, but concept is not lost on me. Perfectionism (a gentle way of saying "anal retentivism") is an affliction we both suffer from, and I need to prevent it from building giant brick walls directly in my path.

With that in mind, I have only a few meager offerings from Lesson 3.  Most of my time was spent perfecting small portions of the process, leaving me with incomplete pieces that were sacrificed to the recycling bin.

This small vase was something I could make quickly while continuing to practice my marvering (working the glass off the end of the pipe) and jacking (in this case, shaping and opening the neck.)  The clear glass not only lets me better see what I'm doing, but also is beautiful in it's simplicity.  I love the elegant point at base of my bubble.

 


Perhaps the most exciting new trick I learned was how to use a steam stick.  The vase below started out looking like the vase above.  To widen the body, I placed a water-soaked wood cone just inside the lip of the molten vase until I sealed the opening.  The steam produced inside the vase forced it to blow up like a balloon, giving it a nice even round shape.  Rather than adding a bottle neck like you see above, I just left it like this.  This was really fun to do and it is so much easier to let the laws of physics govern my shapes than my imperfect hands.  



At the end of my lesson, Annette realized that I had not made a twisted glass rod.  These are used to make marbles or add accents to so many different pieces.  Imagine, if you can, shaping a gather into a cube at the end of a punty. Don't need a pipe for this because it is solid glass with no bubble. Color is then added to two opposing sides.  It's hard to tell here because the colors I chose were too close together, but there stripes are red and orange.  A layer of clear glass is then added to encase the color.  Here's the fun part.  Annette attached a punty to the other end of my cube, and we each began to spin our punties and walk apart.  Since it was my first time doing this, we only made it six or so feet, but we were left with this glass candy cane.  Below are just two of the sections.  I'm not sure what I'll use it for yet, but for now I am simply fascinated by it and play with it constantly on my desk.

Birthday Presents!

Yesterday was my birthday and although you might be thinking "What in the world does this have to do with glass blowing?", I can assure you this birthday was all about glass for me.

9" jacks made by Jim Moore from Seattle

For starters, I got my first swoopy tool.  My sweet John managed to secretly consult with Annette and buy me a set of jacks.  These were made by Jim Moore in Seattle, and are used in so many ways.  They're the Leatherman of glass tools.  I can't wait to use them! The blades, which look like they were stolen from Edward Scissorhands, are 9" long.


John wasn't sure which of my presents would be my favorite, and a shiny new set of jacks is hard to beat, but he also managed to pull off another double secret mission.  This requires a short explanation, though.  Part of the reason I haven't been blogging is because I have been distracted by beading.  I am learning about lampworking and making glass beads at home.  I got the basics from a pro, but am trying to teach myself as much as I can at home.  One of my methods has been going through Passing the Flame, a book written by my favorite bead artist, Corina Tettinger, and making each of the beads she demonstrates in her book over and over again until I perfect it.  I showed John her website (www.corinabeads.com) and the adorable frog beads she makes.  Unfortunately, she is so popular her beads sell within hours of being posted for sale on her site, and I haven't been so lucky as to get one.  John went to the site, contacted Corina, and, suffice it to say, the photo below was another one of my wonderful gifts.  I loved her little card as much as I loved the bead.  Clearly, through just a few short emails, she already knows John.  Yes, he is joyful . . . and he is a prince! 

Thanks, Corina!!!

The base the bead is sitting on is a mandrel holder that John made for me.  (Thanks to the University of Michigan piano tech department for letting him borrow some tools!)  Of course, since John made that one himself, it my favorite gift of all!

My final glass gift hasn't arrived yet, but my dad bought me a Carlisle Mini CC High-Oxygen torch and oxygen concentrator.  My little home studio is coming together nicely.  And, yes, since I didn't win any part of that record-breaking $640 Mega Millions jackpot, it is still located in my basement. A girl can dream, though!

And, finally, it just wouldn't be a birthday without cake and flowers.  I think John made three or four cassata cakes before perfecting his recipe.  It was amazing!

Mmmmmm. . . cassata cake!!!

Lesson 2

I apologize that I am only on my third post and have already fallen weeks behind.  I knew going into this blog that I was going to have to donate some time to it's cause, and, much like keeping any diary, the gratification would be delayed. In the spirit of finishing, I'm going to try to keep this one brief.


In lesson 2, we focused again on the basic form of the drinking glass, but this time, working towards independence and solo blowing.  An extra hand is always helpful and usually available when working in a studio, but it's nice to be able to do everything alone, as well.  There are many steps in going from molten glass to a final form, and, for the process to be successful, one must continue moving and shaping at all times, leaving no opportunity to stop in the middle for a "teaching moment".  I'm sure, like a football coach standing on the sidelines watching his players make game-changing mistakes which he is powerless to stop, I am testing Annette's patience. She steps in only when she needs to, and reviews with me areas where there is room for improvement between each piece.


With the football coach analogy in mind, I'm sure you will understand how Annette must've felt when I finished my first solo glass (pictured below).

My first solo glass!

Yes, it turned into an ornament. There is a moment of truth when the glass gets transferred from the blow pipe to a "punty", a second rod which gets attached to the bottom of the glass-to-be to allow the gaffer to work on the top or lip of the glass.  When I transferred this one, I found the glass was too thin near the lip to open it up, so I closed it off with a blob of hot glass, made a loop and turned it into an ornament.  Personally, I like it.  A little too heavy for a Christmas tree, but I'm sure it will find a home. 


The colors are tangerine-orange and fire truck red.  If you recall from an earlier post, the actual names are in German and it is my goal to start recording those as well.  Many of the colors look nothing like the final product before I apply them, so I rely on the names to be good descriptors.  I think these two hit the nail on the head, and I will most certainly use them again.

Figure 1 - Optic Mold

Below is a photo of the other items that I made to keep.  The color patterns were made by setting the early form (ball of glass referred to as a "gather" with just a seed bubble blown into it) into a mold (Figure 1 - also called an "optic mold") to give the glass an accordion bevel all around.  After removing the piece from the mold, I reheated the glass to keep it warm and applied colored glass in a thin spiral around the outside, hoping only to touch the peaks of the bevel.  Poor technique let the color land in the valleys as well, which gave my glasses an interesting appearance all the same. Finally, the glass gets twisted before it is blown out to it's final size, transferred to a punty and shaped.  The ridges are meant to disappear, leaving only an impression on the color and not the shape of the glass.  This, I think, worked out as intended.     

I also spent some time practicing on clear glass, working on my marvering technique and "necking" (Figure 2 - forming a thin valley just off the end of the blow pipe, making it easier to separate the piece from the blow pipe.) 

Figure 2 - Necking

The products from my exercises just end up in the recycling bin, and will hopefully have a second chance at life, being turned into something more beautiful some day.  The glass rod in the photo above actually came from my next lesson, so I will save that for my next post, but since it didn't have to anneal (cool overnight in a kiln) I got to bring it home right away, and it made it's way into the photo with the rest of the goodies I got to bring home.  I'm going for lesson 4 tomorrow, so I will be able to bring home the other things I made during lesson 3 and, hopefully, post them promptly.


Well, so much for keeping it short.  Thanks for following!

Lesson 1

“There are no mistakes or failures, only lessons” – Denis Waitley

My first real lesson started in an unexpected way, reminding me of something I have learned over and over again in my life.  Mistakes happen. 

I called Annette on the way to my lesson to tell her I was going to be 5 or 10 minutes late.  Most people probably wouldn’t think twice about this, but in my world, five or ten minutes can mean the difference between life and death, and being five or ten minutes late is unacceptable, so I call.  She picked up on the stress in my voice, and, although unbeknownst to me, she was dealing with her own personal disaster, she told me that art is supposed to be fun and not something I need to stress about.  She was right, and in the last few minutes of my drive, I tried to relax and get in the proper frame of mind. 

When I arrived, relaxed and rearing to go, it was clear that my teacher had turned her own shade of frazzled.  “I’ve got a bit of a problem,” she declared.  She had accepted a commission to make pieces for a charity to be given as a thank you to the charity's major donors, but something had gone wrong during the final process, and the pieces were showing signs of stress.  It wasn’t anything that could be seen with the naked eye, but she knew they weren’t perfect and, therefore, she was not about to let them out of her studio.  Through an optical filter, she showed me the imperfections, betraying themselves only as polarized light emanating from the designs. The pieces might be fine, but they would be susceptible to breaking if left as is.  The benefit dinner was just 48 hours away.  To fix the problem, the pieces were going to have to be re-annealed, which meant slowly reheating them to a temperature just hot enough to relieve the stress without actually allowing the pieces to melt.  Given the time constraint, it had to be dealt with before my lesson. On the plus side, I was about to receive my first lesson in annealing. 

Annealing is a process of slowly cooling glass to relieve internal stresses created as it was formed.  Glass which has not been annealed is apt to crack or shatter when subjected to small temperature changes or mechanical shock.  I learned about annealing charts and how to program the German-made annealer.  I point out the heritage of this machine because, although I consider Germans to be a highly intelligent group of people, their thought processes, and, hence, their products, are not always the most intuitive.  The annealer was no exception, and instincts, alone, would not have helped me succeed in this task. Annette decided on a course of re-heating and cooling that was going to take nearly 30 hours.  After double and triple checking our programming, the process was underway.  Since the pieces needed to be delivered in less than 48 hours, there was no room for error.  Working under duress is dead in the center of my comfort zone and I was happy to have the opportunity to help.  After about 2 hours of fretting, we were finally on to my lesson.

My first "set" of glasses

As you can see, I created a set of glasses today.  Yes, they ARE a set!  Not exactly alike, but, perhaps, more like brothers and sisters, each with their own unique and wonderful qualities, not exactly alike in any way, but created by the same two people and bonded together for life.  I love each and every one of my glasses and look forward to to opportunity to make more!

Lesson Zero

I call this lesson zero because it really wasn’t meant to be a lesson, but rather a visit to meet an artist who might consider taking me on as a student.  After researching glass studios in Michigan, I called those less than an hour from my home.  Most just referred me to their website for a list of classes.  Given my irregular work schedule, attending a class that met at the same time every week would be difficult.  I pondered my options, trying to re-arrange my schedule so I could sign up for a class, but it looked like it just wasn’t going to work out for me.  Then, I found Baron Glassworks. When I called studio, the owner answered.  Her name was Annette.  For those who know me, you know I am partial to that name.  It belonged to my mom, to whom I owe everything, and perhaps the only right-brained member of my family.  Naturally, I wanted her to be my teacher.  Annette told me to stop by her studio sometime so we could meet.  Not wanting to seem to anxious, I waited a full 15 minutes before calling her back and asking if now would be a good time.  "Sure!" she said.  I hopped in my car and headed her way!

I knew nothing about glass, and had no idea what to expect when I arrived.  After introducing myself to Annette, we talked for a while, she showed me around her studio and I watched her work with a few other students. Seeing my unbridled enthusiasm, she quickly realized she was stuck with me as a student and began capturing every teachable moment, directing her words of wisdom not only to her apprentices, but also to me, the apprentice-wannabe.  Like the newbie that I was, I held onto every word like it was gold.  I must’ve looked like a hungry and penniless child who just wandered into a candy shop, and, the goodhearted soul that she is, Annette couldn’t resist giving me a piece.  “Would you like to make a something?” she asked. She wasn’t going to have to ask me twice.  I have been waiting to hear those words since I was eight!

First, a quick safety lesson: safety glasses are a must, hair must be pulled back, never wear acrylic clothing, never walk backwards in the studio (this is harder than you would think!) and never pick anything up off the floor; it is likely to be sharp, hot or both! After a few dry runs with cold tools, we grabbed a pipe and headed for the furnace.  Given the inherent dangers of this process, she guided my every move, standing beside me, directing my grip on the blow pipe and, even more importantly, standing in front of me as I approached the furnace of molten glass.  Looking inside it for the first time, I could almost believe she had stolen for herself a piece of the sun. Now, just a few feet away from a blazing vessel of molten glass, I was going to steal a piece for myself.  She guided my pipe into the vat, dipping and twisting it into the viscous fluid, and, soon, I had a glowing orb at the end of my pipe.  It was beautiful! She walked me through the process of blowing my first bubble and dancing with gravity to shape my first piece.  In the end, we marvered and blew, jacked and paddled, and, in the end, she succeeded in taking me through the steps necessary to create a glass.  AMAZING!  

Armed with a healthy respect for the process and a basic understanding of what it would take to gain even a basic level of competence, I signed up for my first private lesson.

Why am I doing this?

The simplest answer is because it fascinates me.  I can remember my first exposure to it as a child.  Like most kids growing up in Ohio, my brothers and I were treated to an annual family trek to Cedar Point.  For most, Cedar Point stirs memories of racing on the Gemini, twisting upside-down through the Corkscrew, getting soaked on the log ride, and the endless displays of giant stuffed animals beckoning us to spend our dollars on a chance to win one.  I remember those things, too, but what I remember most is the glass blowers. Tucked way in the back of the park, past the rollercoasters and bumper cars, was a small building that housed a furnace, a glory hole, and the tools of the gaffer’s (glass blower’s) trade.  Beautiful pieces of glass with twists of colors and embellishments were always on display.  If I was lucky, someone was there working and I could actually watch the gaffers in action. I wanted a piece of glass even more than I wanted a giant stuffed panda (which, for the record, I never won!) but no level of water gun blasting or ring-tossing deftness could win me a piece.  To me, the blown glass objects were unobtainable treasures. 

Today, I am still fascinated both by the process of working with molten glass and the stunning items we can produce through this art form.  Thanks to a close and creative friend of mine who I have watched pursue and achieve excellence through her own artistic passion, I have come to realize this art form is not beyond my reach.  And so begins my journey . . .