Two new articles on Seattle Center proposal

"Glass vs. Grass" was the Seattle Times headline this Wednesday, as the city began public debate over what to do with the Seattle Center. Chihuly and the Wright's have proposed a privately funded permanent Chihuly exhibit, cafe, and shop. It was approved by the Seattle Design Commission and awaits the decision of the City Council and the Mayor. However, there is opposition to the idea. The expected entrance fee of $12-$14 goes against the popular desire for public space on city-owned property.

Thursday, The Stranger reported on the "60 public meetings" about the Center that occurred between 2006 and 2008 in which "the response was overwhelming: more open, green space" was wanted. The article, titled "Another Backward, Half-Baked Idea for Seattle Center: Owners of Space Needle want a Massive Chihuly Museum Next Door," gives evidence that not everyone is on board with the Chihuly plan and calls for public debate to ensure that public space is used for public good.

Artist Nori Sato is quoted in the article: "I just didn't know, if you were you going to set up a center like this, whether devoting it to a single artist was adequate--civic enough as an opportunity. My other concern was the way Chihuly was thinking about it; it just wasn't a big enough idea..."

Heffter, E., Gilmore, S., and Kelleher, S. "Glass vs. Grass." The Seattle Times. A1. March 10, 2010.

Graves, J. "Another Backward, Half-baked Idea." The Stranger. March 11, 2010. p 15.

Eli Hansen and Joey Piecuch

Hansen and Piecuch's "Truths we forgot to lie about" was shown at The Helm Gallery (Tacoma) in March of this year and it received excellent reviews from two Seattle art critics, Jen Graves and Regina Hackett. Hackett titled her criticism "Staggering greatness in Tacoma." Here are some photos of the show from Eli Hansen's website.

Left: "Pointless & Disgusting/For all nerve conditions" ( labels by Herman Beans )

Left: "Alcohol, sarcacoca foliage and flower, serotonin"
Below: "truths we forgot to lie about"

Below: "Alcohol, tarantula legs, sarcacoca, maple tree sap"



Regina Hackett: "Working with his childhood friend, chemist and botanist Joe Piecuch, Elias Hansen celebrates the cheesy weirdness of Tacoma.

Tacoma is the kind of town artists flee from. Art Chantry, who left and came back, refers to it as a "little piece of New Jersey that broke off." The term flying saucer was coined there in 1947, when a Tacoma man reported seeing silver discs flying over Mount Rainier and along the crest of the Cascade Range. When asked what they looked like, he said, "Like saucers without cups."

Chantry also claims that the term new age was invented in Tacoma by a splinter group of a flying saucer church. Add the town's reputation for organized crime, gangs and heavy-industry polluting the waterfront, it's easy to see why Tacoma had no hope of becoming a city known for art.

Except it has...

Back to Hansen, a glass blower from Pilchuck who never had a decorative thought in his life. He looks at a flourish and wonders how it could be put to use.

He and his older brother Oscar Tuazon come from the Buster Simpson school of handyman poetics. Because Hansen is best known for his collaborations with Tuazon (review here), Hansen's exhibit at a suitably tacky little Tacoma storefront gallery was a test for him. Has he hitched his wagon to his brother's star or has he his own forward momentum?

Clearly the latter. With Truths We Forgot To Lie About, he and Piecuch delivered an exhibit of staggering greatness.

They treated Tacoma like a science experiment, taking core samples of the place distilled into gruesome forms of theoretically drinkable beverages. In all manner of glass test tubes (blown by Hansen), they mixed an alcohol base with Western red cedar, brick fragments from Ted Bundy's childhood home and soil from Port Madison; coyote blood, beard hair, beeswax and butterfly wings; blackberries, club moss from the Hoh rain forest and hydrogen cyanide; soil from Lewis and Clark's Cape Disappointment camp site, concrete from the Boeing plant in Everett flavored with hobo urine, and brick chips from Francis Farmer's childhood home with paint flecks from Curt Cobain's final abode on Lake Washington.

Beauty, for Hansen, breathes in the forest.

How to keep--is there any any, is there none such, nowhere known some, bow or brooch or braid or brace, lace, latch or catch or key to keep
Back beauty, keep it, beauty, beauty, beauty, ... from vanishing away?

from The Leaden Echo and the Golden Echo, Gerald Manley Hopkins

If the beauty of the forest is a commodity in a threatened industry, how can Hansen & Piecuch make use of it in an old loggers' town?

By turning it into a memory preserved in alcohol. In the hopes of not setting their house on fire, they took a large, Venetian-style glass vase out to the backyard at night and poured hot urethane into it, over the root bulb of a datura plant, from the Nightshade family. The glass cracked, and the pieces fused in layers as the urethane cooled. With that base, they added the ingredients of peach home brew.

From the website of The Helm, the terrific makeshift gallery that sponsored this installation:

Why are bootleggers romanticized? Why are meth cooks ostracized? Why is the Northwest home to so many bootleggers, meth cooks, serial killers and craftspeople? Does the geography of this area create a space for this kind of activity? Or do we create these stories and myths to fit the geography?

Through garage chemistry, traditional craftsmanship, backyard naturopathy and a limited budget, Hansen and Piecuch attempt to assemble a collection of stories, distillations and reactions to the geography and history of the Northwest.

I don't want to oversell the good news here. The Helm is going out of business after its April show. It's tough for galleries to stay in business. For a gallery that's off-the-edge adventurous in Tacoma, it might be near to impossible. RIP, Helm, and come back in another form soon."

Jen Graves:

"Sometimes a Seattle artist just needs to go to Tacoma. Things are wound too tightly in Seattle, too formal, everybody watching. In Tacoma, given a supportive curator, anything might happen. Last week, the supportive curator of Kittredge Gallery at the University of Puget Sound, Carol Adelman, worked quietly on her computer while Seattle artist Jeffry Mitchell made a royal mess of the place...

[...]It is high time that an exhibition of macho glass art had a weight bench in the corner. Sharing the room with glass pieces on pedestals at Tacoma's Helm Gallery is a Weider 245 Training System. Artists Eli Hansen and Joey Piecuch, in Truths We Forgot to Lie About, have titled this ready-made If I Had to Do It Over Again, I'd Rather Be Feared Than Loved, quoting a criminal who regretted not having scared his girlfriend off ratting him out. Knowing how to mock well is another adolescent-guy trick; Hansen and Piecuch employ it to sly effect.

If you add enough clichés together, do you get a whole truth? Hansen and Piecuch, like the proverbial Northwest "mystics," scoured the local landscape for this exhibition. It wasn't a spiritual search—they drove around retrieving Northwesty stuff: Puget Sound water; brick from the homes of Frances Farmer, Ted Bundy, and Kurt Cobain; radioactive Hanford soil; pea-sized pink salmon eggs; beard hair (both men are quite hairy); soil from a Green River Killer dump site in Kent; hellebore flowers from Chief Sealth's grave. These generic but beloved Northwest elements are combined, suspended, and preserved with high-strength alcohol in (too precious) handblown glass bottles. Their labels detail the ingredients, a borrowing of Dario Robleto's alchemical process.

But Robleto is sober; Piecuch (background in botany and chemistry) and Hansen (a glassblower) are not. The underlying motif of Truths is altering consciousness, whether by drink, drugs, or burrowing in the minds of icons.

The glass pieces sharing the front room with the weight machine are fermenting jars with pouches of peaches floating on sugar water. Five mason jars of clear liquor—moonshine they made—are lined up on a table like the identical black boxes, with illegal drugs sealed inside, by Seattle artist Jack Daws. Two lusciously filthy cheap-print photographs of their basement cooking setup (very meth lab) hang on the wall, encased in thin layers of slightly obscuring, slightly glamorizing bubbly clear resin.

At the opening, while everyone else got drunk on their liquor, they didn't drink any, and when they said they'd meet everybody at the bar later, they never showed up. Truths We Forgot to Lie About isn't either an ironic depiction of a tourist trap or an outpouring of identifications from two native Northwesterners: It's both."

Graves, Jen. The Stranger. "In Art News: Jeffry Mitchell and Mexican Protest Prints: Free(ing) and Truths We Forgot to Lie About at the Helm Gallery " March 10, 2009. website accessed May 2, 2009. http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/in-art-news/Content?oid=1162788
Hansen, Elias. website accessed May 2, 2009. http://www.eliashansen.com/14735/index.htm#
Hackett, R. "Staggering greatness in Tacoma". Another Bouncing Ball (blog). website accessed May 2, 2009. http://www.artsjournal.com/anotherbb/2009/03/the-handyman-poetics-of-eli-ha.html

2006

Three opinions you hear frequently about glass are quickly becoming solidified as a truth. In this time line I pull quotes to illustrate a thread in popular and scholarly writing and criticism about glass. Here we will see current glass artists defending their art against the accusations and separating themselves from these stereotypes and, hopefully, find out how and where the now-common opinion was born. These accusations are just that, opinions. Fundamentally, the general thesis seems to be born of the question, What Is Art? This question I will leave to others to answer, here I am only documenting the written history of a popular way of thinking and a popular taste.

2006 Matthew Kangas:

"Like it or not, American studio glass is here to stay. Possibly the most important art movement to arise and flourish in the Pacific Northwest after Mark Tobey and the Northwest School, glass art has been centered around the Pilchuck Glass School since it opened near Stanwood in 1971. A number of prominent art collectors have assembled collections of works made by the numerous regional, national and international figures to have worked at Pilchuck. Usually technically complex and brightly colored, Pilchuck glass has assimilated techniques from all over the world, including, most importantly, Italy.

As the new Seattle Asian Art Museum exhibition demonstrates, glass art is much more than virtuoso blowing. "A Transparent Legacy: Studio Glass Gifted to the Seattle Art Museum from the Collection of Jon and Mary Shirley" highlights 60 examples that the Medina couple acquired over the years and have now given to SAM. Most, but not all, of the big names in the movement are there and, in most cases, the Shirleys chose superior examples. To put it mildly, as trustees and longtime supporters of the Pilchuck Glass School, the Shirleys were usually in the right place at the right time.
While SAM has been attentive to the glass scene, "A Transparent Legacy" is a good opportunity for newcomers to not only learn and look, but to become connoisseurs on their own, selecting favorites and developing their own taste just as the Shirleys did when they began collecting more than 30 years ago.

Start with the historic masters — Dale Chihuly, Lino Tagliapietra, Harvey Littleton (Chihuly's teacher at University of Wisconsin), Marvin Lipofsky, and Stanislav Libenský and Jaroslava Brychtová. These are the major figures of late 20th-century glass art, all of whom passed through Pilchuck. With Chihuly, Littleton, Tagliapietra and Lipofsky's emphasis on elastic, fluid blown shapes, it's important to recognize that the sand-casting of the husband-and-wife team Libenský and Brychtová came first.
Associate curator of modern and contemporary art Susan Rosenberg spreads out the riches in three rooms. With their crisp new white walls and restored skylights, the galleries have never looked better. Color is central to glass art, and Rosenberg has generously spaced the vases, vessels and sculptures so that nothing seems crowded or cluttered, as is so often the case with craft exhibits. Given first-rate installation and elegant, even lighting, the pieces quietly glow, all the better to view their intricate and sometimes fussy details.

Because blown glass is hollow, artists tend to make vases or vessels. Chihuly is a good example, but so are his ex-"gaffers" (chief glassblower) Tagliapietra, Richard Royal, Dante Marioni and William Morris. Each is distinct with his own vision and degree of talent.
Sculptures are sometimes assemblages of multiple-element pieces or solid, as with the central European pioneers included besides Libenský and Brychtová: Zoltan Bohus and Michael Pavlik. American solid-glass sculpture began with Littleton, Tom Patti and Sidney Cash, all on view.
Lampworkers like Ginny Ruffner, Susan Plum, Kari Russell-Pool, Jill Reynolds and Gianni Toso compose differently, element by element. They are represented by some spectacular examples, including Ruffner's "The Invention of Games You Shouldn't Bet On" (1991) or Toots Zynsky's glass-thread bowl, "Firebird" (1992).

Non-Northwest glass is ably represented and may be of the most interest to glass fans. Michael Glancy combines glass with electro-formed copper while Klaus Moje fuses colored strips in a kiln to make large plates. Etsuko Nishi and Seth Randal's "cage work" bowls revive an ancient Egyptian and Roman process to a contemporary end. They round out a dazzling display."

"An overview of glass art from near and far." Kangas, M. The Seattle Times. May 12, 2006. http://community.seattletimes.nwsource.com/archive/?date=20060512&slug=visart12

2006 Jen Graves:

"Nevertheless, Chihuly is hailed as a hero of glass, a man who fought for its place at the high-art table. But while he may have found his own place at that table, his popularity has not magically transformed glass into a respectable stand-alone medium, and may have even set it back. Its reputation as a lowly craft material used for utilitarian or decorative purposes by rote technicians directed by mere designers began to change in the 1960s and '70s, when the American studio-glass movement started to unite technician and designer toward forging modern artistry in the medium. Early on, Chihuly was in on this. But the post-1979 world-famous Chihuly, lacking the ability to be a technical wiz, separated the two functions again, and treated the craftsmen as medieval laborers not even deserving of name recognition. To this day, there has not been a modern master glass artist. Chihuly is a glass celebrity instead, and his lawsuit threatens to call attention to the disparity."

Grave, J. From the Feb 16 – Feb 22, 2006 issue of The Stranger. Seattle, WA. "Dale Chihuly Files a Lawsuit That Raises Big Questions... About Dale Chihuly". http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/Content?oid=30734

2006 Lee Lawrence:

"It's a typical day at the Washington Glass School in Washington, D.C. WGS founder Tim Tate leans into an open kiln and presses a plastic locust into a narrow strip of plaster powder, making a clean indentation. This will act as a mold into which he will later melt plate glass, creating a cast so finely detailed that the pattern on the locust's wings will show. Nearby, co-director Michael Janis sits at a worktable, sprinkling crushed glass onto a clear surface, using it to paint a silhouette in graffito that will become one layer in a castglass work. Across the room, the third WGS partner, Erwin Timmers, crouches near a sculpture in progress, puzzling out the details of combining neon with salvaged metal and recycled glass.

This is a far cry from glory holes and other icons of the glass studio movement. Yet it is typical of what is happening across the country as more and more artists use glass to express an expanding range of content, often by combining techniques and materials.

Martha Drexler Lynn, author of American Studio Glass 1960-1990 and, more recently, Sculpture, Glass and American Museums, notes that "Artists are not just doing straight glass. They're using glass as an expressive component in a larger whole, and that's great because at that point glass becomes just one more material in the arsenal."

This may sound like a demotion to some, but it is really a leap forward for glass. "It subjugates the medium to the artist's intent, which is exactly what should happen," says Lynn. In some ways, this is the latest chapter in a debate that has characterized the American studio glass movement since its inception: what should take precedence, technique or content?

Some artists have made careers of pushing the envelope and have filled many a gallery, home and museum with creations of mind-blowing beauty. Others, meanwhile, have focused on mastering technique in order to express the content they want to convey.

As early in the movement as 1972, studio glass icon Harvey Littleton took a stand. At a National Sculpture Conference in Kansas, Littleton famously declared that "technique is cheap." In his wake, the '80s saw a wave of content-laden work—sculptures by Howard Ben Tré, Mary Van Kline, Paul Stankard, Ginny Ruffner, William Morris, Therman Statom and others, who were, in turn, followed by the likes of Mark Petrovic, Jack Wax, Robert Carlson and Michael Rogers in the '90s.

"It's addictive to make the perfect vessel," Tate admits. "The trick is to overcome that." Janis calls this hardto- resist attraction "the quest for the perfect bubble," and he, too, confesses he is not immune. But, like a growing number of artists, Tate and Janis subscribe to the motto their glass school hammers home to students: "Learn your craft, then move beyond it."

As though to prove this point, Tate curated a show, "Compelled By Content," which was shown last spring at the Fraser Gallery in Bethesda, Md. The show proved so successful that "Compelled By Content II," including works by Tate, Janis and other glass artists, will be on display until June 4, according to the gallery's Lennox Campello.

And if you eavesdrop on any number of workshops at WGS, you will notice that, while students and teachers work on technique, they spend at least as much time discussing how to translate concepts into three-dimensional works.

At the school they also argue over what exactly constitutes "content." In this they are not alone. "

All these words are slippery," Lynn says, by way of explaining why she defers to renowned art historian and critic Rosalind Krauss: "Content," Lynn says, paraphrasing Krauss, "is anything that relates to a basic human experience." In other words, content can range from narration to emotion, from personal reminiscence to political commentary, from plays on words to musings on faith, death and destiny.

Even within a small sample of Washington artists, "content" varies widely.

For Tate, subjecting technique to content has brought forth a body of work that evokes healing, rebirth and memory. In his series of blownglass hearts, for example, "Repository" contains speckled eggs made of ceramic and pte de verre, while "Brood" features an etched cross proportioned like the American Red Cross logo and, inside, a collection of cicada husks.

The cross recurs in a cast piece in which a man's form emerges from a glass panel as if from underwater, his chest sporting a cross. Although Tate does not speak about it often, he lives with HIV, a threat he has responded to by celebrating life. Fittingly, the title of this panel is "Portrait of a Positive Man."

In Janis's works, issues of memory and identity loom large. In "Personal Dreamtime," furrows arc across a textured field, converging but not touching. One carries two Australian banksia seedpods—a nod to the 10 years Janis lived "Down Under" —and both are f illed with writing in which he explores the gap between expectation and reality.

Janis pushes this exploration further in "Amnesiac," in which he overlays the image of a woman onto drawings of a brain scan. Both are done in graffito and encased in a block of clear glass, inviting questions about the transparency of one's own mind and its workings.

Elsewhere, Janis integrates metal stands into his work—"Self-Portrait," for example, features a cast face separated from the world by thin layers of glass filled with fine writing, its components held by a metal skeleton as elegant in its simplicity as a rib cage.

Very different in feel, Elizabeth Ryland Mears' "Shelter" series consists of twig-shaped poles of flameworked glass that form the skeletons of teepee-like structures. The structures consist of combinations of waxed linen, copper and brass wire, string, horsehair, charred wood, steel, bones and quartz wool. Their translucence and gem-like ref lectivity evoke both the value we place on our shelters and their ultimate fragility and transience. This holds true whether we interpret Mears' sculptures as representations of homes or of the artist's physical body, which, she explains, "protects my inner world."

Timmers' "Sequence," on the other hand, celebrates what happens when we are not protected and life spins out of control. Timmers replaced the glass panels of a discarded traffic light with tempered glass he melted and re-formed so that the top panel is solid, the second shows signs of deterioration and the bottom panel appears to melt and drip out its frame. "A sequence of events can lead to something beyond your control," Timmers explains as he fiddles with an electric connection. Indeed, his work took a drastic turn after the 1994 earthquake in Los Angeles, in whose wreckage he discovered material for art.

When light suddenly shines through the bottom panel, the piece takes on the role of a metaphor—a metaphor for the explosion of creativity that is occurring as more and more artists use their mastery of glass to give content the green light."

"Arts Focus: Filling Glass with Meaning" by Lee Lawrence. American Style Magazine. Issue Date: June 2006.
http://www.americanstyle.com/ME2/dirmod.asp?sid=&nm=&type=Publishing&mod=Publications%3A%3AArticle&mid=8F3A7027421841978F18BE895F87F791&tier=4&id=0F68108660AD480D812D318017076C68 Accessed March 30, 2009.

2006 Evan Schauss:

Schauss, Evan. "Walking on Glass" youtube video. Tacoma, WA. Tacoma Glassblowing Studio.

2006 Robin Rice:

"Boris Shpeizman, a Fall, 2006 Resident Fellow at the Creative Glass Center of America, estimates that he is one of no more than ten people who blow glass in Israel — an ironic state of affairs when one considers that historically glass is believed to have been “born” somewhere between Syria and Lebanon. Today, fusing, slumping and flame working are not rare, but Shpeizman says that his new hot shop, Trio Vietro, shared with two partners in Tel Aviv, is unique in the country.
Shpeizman’s projects, which have been executed in various parts of the world, are often ambitious and sometimes disturbing. “I try to shock people by making beautiful things,” he says. So far, the most challenging and unusual was “Wearing Glass,” his fabrication of glass costumes partly joined by steel coils and carefully tailored to a specific model. They were shown on the original live model at the Oxo Gallery in London.

The works are “clothing” in the sense that they conform to and are supported by the body; however, they could never be worn except in a highly controlled performance setting. They are transparent, glittering, and potentially fragile. The glass extends dramatically beyond the figure where it could easily encounter something, a wall or another person, which might break it. The “clothing” is literally dangerous to the wearer and others and this danger is part of the meaning.
In one costume, a bird, apparently a rooster protrudes penis-like from the groin of the female model whom Shpeizman videotaped walking on a treadmill against a black background. The model’s face is not visible but her body is healthy, attractive perhaps in some circumstances but unremarkable —neither erotic in her movements nor physically exaggerated in some pin-up sort of way. The otherwise nude woman tightly grips the bird’s long, stretched-out neck in her right hand. Perhaps she merely supports the weight of the glass, but the gaping, shrieking pink beak inevitably suggests that she has a more deadly purpose. The bird’s wings flare upward against the model’s breasts and ribs, miming struggle. Its body passes unseen between her legs and its feet extend and are held loosely behind her buttocks in her left hand.

Other examples of this couture series are more abstract-seeming. Curving almost baroque glass is connected by flexible metal coils. The cumulative sense of “Wearing Glass” is disturbing. Does Shpeizman mean to represent an aggressive perhaps sadistic attitude on the part of the woman? Or is she the object of a kind of torture or bondage? Or perhaps, the artist illustrates that both things could be true.

In real life, as opposed to the viewer’s experience of the performance with the glass costumes, Shpeizman made sure the glass was as comfortable as possible for the wearer. He first cast her body in plaster and used this as a template for free-blowing the hot glass.
“It was just a job for her. I asked her what she thought about doing it and she says, ‘Okay. Glass is fine.’ The model was scared because the glass was very heavy. I was scared too. I asked her after she wore it if she had done something like this before. She said, ‘No.’”

Clearly designed to be worn by a woman, Shpeizman describes the objects as “very beautiful things and very bizarre. All clothes are a fetish of some kind,” he explains. “I took it to one extreme. Glass is the opposite of clothing; it is not flexible; it is cold and heavy.”

Shpeizman says that part of his “obsession is to connect glass and the body.” His interest in and understanding of the body goes beyond that of the ordinary art student who takes a few classes in life-drawing. Born in Russia, Shpeizman immigrated to Israel when his political activism became a problem. In Russia, he was a dentist. Because of his training, he says, “I feel very familiar with the body and with bones. It’s my material.” One of his sculptures encases a portion of the skull of an animal in glass threads. It is especially evocative of his understanding of the structure of the head.

He abandoned dentistry because he asked himself, “Someday when I die who will remember? It was not enough to make a lot of money. When you work in medicine, you are so limited in your decisions. You have a protocol. I decided on art and when I saw glass art it was so exciting to me that I decided to make glass.”
Though it has undeniable beauty, his glass is not for the squeamish. “I work with flesh,” he says simply. Shpeizman has made figures of animals and humans, seemingly flayed, bloodied; sometimes in tortured positions. A large standing dog is a horrific image of living death. In another work, crimson blood pulsing in contorted skeletal human remains tells of agony denied the comfort of mortality.

At CGCA, Shpeizman constructed the elements of an installation which will include a large tree, perhaps ten feet tall: “like a tree of meat but made from glass of course.” The trunk will be partly constructed of steel covered in copper. He made numerous insects to be placed on the tree, for each one coating a copper armature with hot glass and attaching petal-like wings. “I think through my hands sometimes,” he says. “It helps me to understand what I’m doing and to think more clearly about what I’m going to do.”"

Rice, R. (resident critic) "Boris Shpeizman" Wheaton Arts, NJ. Creative Glass Center of America. website accessed May 2, 2009. http://www.wheatonarts.org/creativeglasscenteramerica/criticresidency/robinrice/shpeizmanborisessay

2006 Caroline Ednie:
 

"Reflections: A Decade of North Lands Creative Glass is a beautifully staged exhibition and one that also provides a rare oasis of calm, tucked away, as it is, within the secluded special exhibitions gallery on the third floor of the NMS. Yet that’s not to suggest that the glass stars of the show are participating in a too tranquil or tame affair - far from it. For scratch – or indeed blast or blow – beneath the surface of these exhibits, which represent the eventful first ten years in the life of the Caithness based North Lands, and what becomes apparent is a wildly varied cast of characters: at times exhilarating; sometimes controversial; and even unsettling on occasion. But as an ensemble piece, it’s a fine achievement, even boundary pushing.
Admittedly ‘boundary pushing’ has become such a glib and over-used turn of phrase these days that it is in danger of losing any meaning or ‘kapow!’ but to evade it within this context would be doing a huge disservice to such an eye-opener of an exhibition. And what makes it all the more surprising, not to mention enjoyable, is that fact that it’s the medium of glass - so often associated with safe functionalism or simple decoration – that is being pushed into unexplored territories.
But any of the masters and practitioners who have decanted to the rugged North East Coast and experienced or practiced at the North Lands School - and many of whom are exhibiting here - will readily admit that playing it safe has never been part of the North Lands tradition. And it shows in pieces such as ‘Dress’, the frankly spooky white baby’s dress cast in glass and black painted wood by Karen Lamonte which recalls so many of the creepy taboo busting images by Czech film maker Jan Svankmayer, the so called ‘alchemist of the surreal’? Similarly with Slovakian artist Zora Palova’s ‘Bridge’. This is a bold and unsettling piece, its striated edges recalling a primitive weapon but its amber glass alluringly appeals like rich home made toffee?
Less enigmatic though equally disarming is Kate William’s kiln cast uranium glass model of ‘Dounreay’ appearing like a ghostly, luminescent, sickly yellow full stop at the end of a series of more aesthetically orientated, sensuous studies in glass. Key amongst these are Lotte Thorsøe’s blown glass ‘Puffin’ which suggests pillow softness and Steve Klein and Tom Rowney’s ‘Untitled’ cased black over white glass bowl with swirling diagonal striped decoration which appears more like the finest porcelain objet d’art than a glass bowl. It’s a daring juxtaposition but ultimately one that works.
‘Untitled’ accounts for the identity of so many of the works on display, but instead of being confusing and irksome, in this case it only adds to the intrigue. In any event it’s not hard to detect the influence of the Caithness landscape, not simply as a backdrop but in essence. From Bernard Dejonghe’s cut glass Caithness farm houses and Bibi Smit’s blown, cold worked and cast glass composition based on the same theme, to Loretta Lowman’s ‘Sky, Sea, Earth’ cast glass fish and Gabie Kienle’s ‘Whale Tale’, the feel of the wind lashed fishing village of Lybster is never too far away. Even the Caithness glass paperweight tradition receives a glancing nod – and a beautiful, subtle and gem-like one at that - in the shape of Alan Scott’s black glass paperweight featuring applied and lampworked clear glass figures.
So often with compilation exhibitions of this its nature it’s a case of honing-in on the few stand out examples and politely forgetting about the rest. In this case it’s trying to work out if there are any forgettable pieces in the mix at all. So it is therefore a must to go along and commit this fine collection to memory.
The exhibition is open at the Museum of Scotland, Chambers Street, Edinburgh EH1 1JF tel: 0131 247 4422 from 21 July 2006 to 7 January 2007. Open daily from 10am to 5pm. Admission free."

Ednie, C. "Glass Reaches Unexplored Territories in Unforgettable Show." Date Unknown, 2006. Website Accessed May 9, 2009. http://www.craftscotland.org/reflectionsnorthlandsreview.html

The "ultimate intention of the glass media"

When asked to list some of the most important works in Seattle's history by The Stranger, Larry Reid of Fantagraphics, formerly curator at Center on Contemporary Art and Roscoe Louie Gallery, cites:

"Dale Chihuly. Fiori di Como. 1998. Chihuly, Inc.'s ostentatious installation on the ceiling of the Bellagio Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas speaks to the tawdry excess and ultimate intention of the glass media. It's all about money, honey."

Is this a common enough sentiment among people who think about contemporary glass?

Why?

http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/more-lists-of-great-art-to-argue-with/Content?oid=1149474
Graves, Jen. March 4, 2009. "More Lists of Great Art to Argue With: What Are the Great Works of Art in Seattle's History According to Curators, Museum Directors, Historians, and Dealers?" Accessed March 22, 2009.

http://www.chihuly.com/essays/Fioristmt.html. Chihuly, D. Fiori di Como, 1998. Accessed March 24, 2009.