Photo Credit: Creative Commons License, Flickr user unforth
Kimmelman, M. "The Accidental Masterpiece." Penguin Books, NY. 2005. p100
If the range of art glass expresses contradiction, so does glass itself. It is molten when worked but later cool and hard to the touch, sensuous yet brittle, fragile but strong - and plastic enough to assume virtually any shape. These qualities - plus plus its beguiling ability to transmit, hold and reflect light - male studio glass the hottest thing in the world of arts and crafts today. "Oh, it's seductive," says Jean Sosin of Birmingham, Michigan, who has been collecting art glass since 1971. "The first time I saw it was in a storefront gallery. A tremendous amount of light was focused on all this glass. The color! I was overwhelmed."
Modern art glass originated thirty years ago, when two things happened. Thanks to new technologies, glass with a lower melting point became available, freeing glassworking from almost blast-furnace temperatures. At the same time, Harvey Littleton, then a professor of art at the University of Wisconsin, put forth his vision of designer and craftman as one person. Littleton's ideas developed out of familiarity with the Corning Glass Works, where his father was director of research. There, as was typical in other factories, pieces were made by skilled workers following the plans of designers who often had little personal knowledge of glassmaking. "Harvey put the artist back into the factory," says William Warmus, a former curator at the Corning Museum of Glass, who publishes a specialist newsletter called The Value of Glass.
Many of the early pioneers - Dan Dailey, William Carlson, Mark Peiser, Joel Philip Myers, Mary Shaffer and Dante Marioni's own father, Paul, among others - came to glass from ceramics, metalwork and other craft backgrounds. At the Penland School of Crafts in North Carolina, the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts in Maine and the Pilchuck Glass School outside Seattle, and at a growing number of university programs, they spent the early years learning, and pushing, the limits of the medium.
"The technical tools were in place by 1980 or so," observes Warmus. "Now the new generation is saying, `OK, we can do the techniques; let's have meaning.'" As glass matures as a medium of artistic expression, its sculptural and narrative possibilities are being explored. Many artists now mix glass with other media, including metal, wood and fibers. The opening of glass-specialized commercial galleries and important recent museum acquisitions - like the Toledo Museum of Art's prize, the collection of George and Dorothy Saxe of San Francisco - signal the mediums arrival and usher contemporary glass from its roots in the crafts to the realm of fine art.
Compared with crafts, glass art is expensive. You can easily pay $25,000 to $100,000 or more for the work of such renowned masters as Chihuly, Howard Ben Tre, Christopher Ries and Tom Patti, and $7,000 to $15,000 for pieces by other established artists. Even students just emerging in the field ask four-figure prices.
The high prices reflect the enthusiasm of the growing market. But glass is also costly to work with. Artists study and apprentice for years to become skilled. Once they have equipped a studio, they run up staggering utility bills to keep their furnaces fired. There's always the risk of breakage. Hiring skilled colleagues also ups the cost, few glass artists actually work unaided, despite Harvey Littleton's enchanting image of the solitary artist/craftsman. As many as a dozen people might be needed to produce an especially complex piece like one of Chihuly's diaphanous yet intensely colored "basket sets," in which many smaller vessels seem to be afloat within a large one.
For the beginning collector, people in the glass world unanimously stress self-education. "The material is so beautiful in itself," says Benjamin Moore, longtime educational coordinator at Pilchuck, whose own work runs to rigorously geometric and stunningly simple sculptural pieces and light fixtures. "Even a broken chunk of glass passes and refracts the light. But for collectors, this is a big drawback. It just doesn't take much of an eye to respond to it."
"Read. Go to conferences. Look at a lot of glass," advises Jean Sosin. "Then don't be influenced by anyone. I decided at the start that rather than try to get something from every artist, I would collect only who I thought was good, and I was fortunate because these turned out to be the masters. I still collect in depth: when an artist's work changes, I purchase a piece."
To learn more, "Go directly to the artists," urges Martha Drexler Lynn, former curator at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. "But if you do, play square. If you knock out the commercial galleries, the artists ultimately lose their venues and the validation of the dealer's eye. Besides, you do not make a world-class collection by bargain hunting."
Strong ties have developed between glass artists in this country and elsewhere. The international exhibition "Venezia Aperto Vetro," which closed last month, featured the work of some 100 top-flight talents from a dozen nations. "The show's name literally meant `Venice Open Glass.'" says London-based organize Dan Klein. "But we MA mean, `Opening our minds to what can be done in glass.'"
How open is your mind? A spectacular part of the Venice exhibition comes to Kansas City this month. Dale Chihuly, working for more than a year with traditional glass artisans in Finland, Ireland and Mexico and on the Venetian island of Murano, produced enormous, fantastically colored "chandeliers" that were hung above Venice's canals, from palazzi and in public squares. Now they will be displayed at the Kemper Museum. "I'm obsessed with color," says Chihuly, whose personality is as flamboyant as his art. "I never saw one I didn't like.""
Lerner, J. Lerner, Jonathan. "Hot glass.(studio glass)." December 1, 1996. Town & Country. 1996. Retrieved November 05, 2009 from accessmylibrary: http://www.accessmylibrary.com/article-1G1-18918665/hot-glass-studio-glass.html
This explosion of creativity has captured the attention of Western art lovers. In galleries, corporate art collections, museums, and studios, exciting new work is on view. Yet modern glass remains both collectible and affordable. Prices can start as low as $20 for a wine goblet or a vase produced in quantity, climbing to $25,000 for a one-of-a-kind sculpture by a well-known artist. For galleries, studios, and museums, featuring glass, see page 99.
Should you decide to try your hand (and breath) at working with glass, we give details about four art schools. Some community and state colleges and universities also offer classes.
Why today's interest in glass?
Until the early 1960s, the expense of building huge industrial glass furnaces and holding them at high temperatures had limited the working of glass to factory production. Then, artist Harvey Littleton, assisted by chemist and inventor Dominick Labino, designed and built a studiosize, relatively inexpensive glass furnace.
No longer was this craft reserved for a select few. Now artists were willing to share as they reinvented old techniques and experimented with new ones.
Littleton taught students at the University of Wisconsin, and some of them-- including Marvin Lipofsky of the California College of Arts and Crafts (CCAC) in Oakland, and Dale Chihuly, co-founder of the Pilchuck Glass School, near Seattle --started programs on the West Coast.
In the Northwest, Pilchuck (a summer program) is a mecca, as is CCAC in the Bay Area. Both schools attract artists from all over the world. A concentration of glass studios and galleries in Los Angeles serves a receptive public.
Technical advances and the proliferation of artists who taught others helped make possible the subsequent flowering of glass artistry. Also since the 1960s, development of equipment as well as availability of quality raw materials has continued, enhancing the quality of art glass.
What are the techniques?
Basic glass formula contains silica (fine sand), alkali (soda or potash) to lower its melting point, lime as a stabilizer, waste glass (called cullet) to assist in melting. Artists add metallic oxides for color, or other chemicals to vary properties in the finished product. Because it's simpler, many artists today just use cullet. Glass artists use many techniques, often in combination. Here are some of them.
Blow: to shape molten glass by blowing air into it through a blowpipe.
Cased: glass has two or more layers of different colors, with outer layer(s) cut away to show interior colors.
Colored threads: thin strands of glass added in different ways for different effects.
Etch: to create a design by scratching the surface of finished glass with a tool or treating it with acid.
Fume: to spray metal salts on warm glass, which is then reheated to give iridescence.
Fuse: to melt together various colors or designs of glass in a kiln.
Laminate: using heat or glue to join pieces.
Multilayered: a cased-glass technique, adding other colors to a basic shape to create designs.
Plate glass: a clear thick sheet, often with a greenish cast.
Sandblast: to blow or blast sand or carborundum onto a piece; this etches or blasts away layers of glass; masking some areas creates design.
Sand-cast: to ladle glass into a shaped mold made in special casting sand.
Slump: to heat a sheet of glass in a mold until it's soft enough to assume a shape, but not molten.
Wire drawing: a cloisonne-like technique. The artist makes wire drawings, fills in with enamel or bits of glass.
How difficult is it?
It takes a long time to develop skill. What looks easy in a demonstration is much more difficult than learning to throw a pot, and it takes several classes to get predictable results. But even beginning students we talked to felt they were better able to appreciate the beauty of finished pieces when they understood the process.
Working with glass is a team effort full of camaraderie. It's physically demanding, in some aspects more sport than art.
If you would like to try, a number of state and community colleges offer beginning to advanced classes. Among them are Chico, San Francisco, and San Jose state universities in California; Yavapai College in Prescott, Arizona; the University of Hawaii; and Eastern Oregon State College in La Grande. Cost is about $170 per quarter, $300 per semester.
Viewing and choosing fine glass
Modern art glass remains both collectible and affordable. Though the work of well-known artists may be too expensive for all but dedicated collectors, new talent surfaces continually; you'll often find exceptional work at beginners' prices.
To make a living, many glass artists devote a few months each year to producing wine goblets, paper weights, perfume bottles, Christmas tree ornaments, vases, plates, and the like at reasonable prices for the work involved. An artist may spend long hours finishing a piece, and making glass is a costly process; gas for firing even a small furnace can run to several hundred dollars a month.
How can you recognize and choose a high-quality piece of glass? Visiting museums and specialty galleries is a good way to start. Museums often have permanent collections, though they're not always on display. Foremost by far is Corning Museum of Glass, in Corning, New York. The American Craft Museum, in New York City, will open new headquarters on October 26, and the works in the opening show (including glass) will travel next year to art museums in Denver and in Laguna Beach, California.
Choosing a piece is most importantly a personal thing: you're attracted by its changing optics, its colors, its sparkle. Next study its craftsmanship: look for blobs of glass where they don't belong, edges that don't meet smoothly. And finally, rely on the recommendations of a gallery that specializes in glass."
"Glass as art." Sunset. Sunset Publishing Corp. Oct. 1, 1986. AccessMyLibrary. 5 Nov. 2009"“Glass has that transcendent property that goes from immaterial to material; from spiritual to physical. Deep in our paeolithic or neolithic mind is the quest for making something intangible or spiritual visible. Glass helps the viewer engage in a similar poetic inquiry.” These are the thoughts of Rick Mills, a second time Resident Fellow at the Creative Glass Center of America in Spring, 2004. Perhaps it was an intuitive groping for these truths that first attracted Mills to glass. Perhaps it was a predisposition inherited from a great great uncle who was a glass-maker around 1680. Historically, the decisive even occurred when a graduate student at Ohio State University invited the undergraduate Mills to assist him in the hot shop. There was no salary; just the opportunity to learn and the gift of a collaborative piece at the end of the semester. However, experience led Mills to change his focus from welded steel and cast bronze to sculpture which may incorporate a variety of materials but virtually always includes glass.
Now an internationally recognized sculptor and Professor of Art at the University of Hawaii at Manoa, Mills was a Resident Fellow at the CGCA in 1986 “fresh out of grad school” (MFA, University of Hawaii). Glass challenges an artist to invest it with something beyond its innate beauty he says. In the studio, Mills particularly values “the sense of cooperation and camaraderie” that comes from working with others, the “alchemical magic of fire” which he relates to the volcanc activity familiar to Hawaiians, and the serendipity of dealing with a material while it is in flux.
Mills is a thinker, a ruminator, who analyzes and develops ideas over time, looking at them from different perspectives. Similarly, he tends to visually “think” in groups of work which are interconnected formally and conceptually. Although the thematic material in his work is consistent, it does not yield a simple sign system of the A=b order. Mills’ description of his “Vestige” series as “ancient archaeological ambers” works metaphorically but it’s evidentially contradictory. The fossilized resin amber preserves prehistoric insects and plant life in its translucent depths. Within Mills’ “Vestiges,” traces of human life are embedded: tantelizingly visible; yet obscured. The simple, sometimes fractured, tooth-shaped exteriors might almost have occurred naturally, like stalagmites. “They take on a gestalt, more than one identity. It’s the idea of mystery, inquiry.”
Floating or resting near the base of each “Vestige” a human head or skull is accompanied by artifacts, like the fragmentary remains of a burial. These records of human culture, perhaps not coincidentally also represent an encyclopaedia of glass-manipulating techniques: a suggestion perhaps that glass technology itself is emblematic of civilization. Some elements were worked on a blow pipe; others, cast. Multi-colored, patterned areas were assembled from sliced cane. The unpredictable reflectivity of layered glass and various inclusions in the vitreous mass distorts what may seen. The whole is a metaphor for the richness of cultural—of human possiblity, suspended in time and fossilized, long extinct.
The largest work in this series is 54” high. Casting such large and complex objects is a challenge. Mills estimates the failure rate at 50%. He mounts each monolith on a metal base, almost like an enormous jewel in a bezel. However, each base contains a tiny drawer, a place where something “contemporary” might be stored. Could it also be an ironic reminder that glass is often the material of vessels?
The more recent “Midden Series” makes similar archaeological references. Originally a midden was a dung heap. Today, it might be any container of waste. Archaeologists delight in finding the layered refuse of kitchens and latrines, including broken glass and pottery vessels, and other detritus of human life. Consigned to a midden, literal garbage over the centuries is transformed into a magical journal of human daily life. Mills depicts middens as collection buckets: tall, narrow, and composed of stacked cylinders suggesting the drums of columns, as well as layers of excavation. The seven foot tall translucent, slightly irregular tubes are stacked, mold-blown sections. Mills sandblasts the surfaces and patinas them with graphite, allowing him to have direct rather painterly contact with the work. Each has a fragile handle of glass. It looks like a bucket, yet the height and leaning gesture of each column suggests the vertical human figure. The clustering of middens on a rectangular base might remind us of Rodin’s Burghers of Calais or of a grove of tree trunks. Mills’ title Midden Maiden reminds us that Greek columns were proportioned like the human figure. Folds in a woman’s chiton are represented in the flutes of an Ionic column.
“Seed Forms” connect in a different way to the “Vestiges.” These simple shapes contain multicolored inclusions, more abstract and veil-like than those in the “Vestiges” and more varied in profile. Each “Seed Form” is distinguished by a curling sprout-like extension, an elaborately patterned spiral reminiscent of a fiddlehead fern (which in turn resembles the head of a violin another emblem of human culture). The intricate patterning, compressed at the base and expanding toward the coiled tip succinctly suggests life’s magical potential for unfurling an infintitude of detail. Plants are obvious referents, but a kind of consciousness, a sentience, can be infered. The bronze bases resemble those of the “Vestiges.” Each tiny drawer contains a fingerprint: its intricate and unique whorls and arches linked to those in the biomorphic “Seed Form” itself.
Mills has also made many long-legged metal and glass works. The assymetrical taller-than-a-person “Walking Sticks” resemble bent, emaciated metal figures with contrastingly globular glass heads. They may not be human but they seem weighted down by consciousness, by thought, or by memory. As in the “Seed Forms” the line between human and plant blurs.
In the“Vanitas” series, large brilliantly-colored droplet-shaped (perhaps sperm-like) blown glass lidded jars are mounted in tall stands with thin prong-shaped legs. The design of container and support is clearly linked to ancient Greek olive oil storage vessels—yet another archaeological reference. Attenuated arching, whip-like necks, handles on the lids of the vessels, resemble sprouted plants (more mature than the “Seed Forms”). Mills arranges them in conversational groups, once more hinting at sentience.
At CGCA, Mills planned to continue his “Midden” series by moving from the grey graphite-coated surface to more intense color as well as more complex bales (handles). He also planned to sand cast three crates, using real shipping crates he found behind the glass house at Wheaton. This exploration of form might make its way into an installation. Mills has a Buddhist slant “an on-going discussion about transportation and transmutation; emptiness and fullness. I’m not sure where this is going,” he commented, adding “They’re friendly crates—people size.” It was not clear whether he might intend a cryptic reference to the so-called “Greater” and “Lesser” vechicles of Mahayana and Hinayana Buddhism. Mayahana, sometimes called the “Great raft,” emphasizes the role of compassion in human relationships.
Mills feels its important to challenge himself with new concepts, moving beyond successful series of the past. “They got too acquirable. I feel a responsibility for being on the cutting edge. When things sell too quickly I feel a little guilty.” In exploring new avenues, he is “fortunate to come [to Wheaton]. The price of experimentation is invaluable.”"
Rice, Robin. "Rick Mills" 1986. Wheaton Arts, NJ. Creative Glass Center for America. website accessed May 2, 2009. http://www.wheatonarts.org/creativeglasscenteramerica/criticresidency/robinrice/millsrick