Somehow, the notion of disgruntled glass blowers conjures images of flying shards and ancient skirmishes between sweaty gladiators wielding molten-tipped blowpipes. But years ago, when the glass-blowing department at San Francisco State University had its budget drastically slashed by August Coppola, the illustrious new dean of creative arts, it was a quiet revolution.
The film-centric brother of Francis Ford was making major changes to several areas of the department, and by the time it was over, many students and faculty who'd enjoyed liberal reign of funky-but-functional workspaces had been duly restricted. And, lo, there seemed to be a corresponding expansion of all things celluloid, with the film department enjoying a simultaneous influx of might and moolah.
Everyone felt a pinch, but glass blowers were clearly being elbowed out wholesale and we were all distraught about their plight. Though largely inconspicuous, intellectually ostracized and singularly grungy members of the art department, they held an almost mythical status as some of the most diligent, productive and eccentric of all the studio artists at the university.
Known for regularly pulling "all-nighters" in front of their raging furnaces and wowing everyone the next day with the glorious fruits of their fastidiousness, they were revered from afar by the rest of us, much in the same way computer geeks used to be a necessary oddity in academia, before the dot-com dynasty catapulted them to stardom.
Having studied nearly every form of studio art — drawing, painting, printmaking, etching, pottery, photography, even metalsmithing — you'd think I'd have tried out glass blowing as well, but the elaborate process and life-threatening temperatures were just too daunting for me and my fellow art history nerds.
Still, we did our best to stick up for our crestfallen brethren as their studio access was inexorably whittled down, but it was to no avail and the glass-blowing department was eventually dismantled altogether — with a 2,500-square-foot cinema soundstage and the August Coppola Theater emerging soon thereafter.
Thankfully, those events did not reflect the overall growth taking place in the global (no pun intended) glass-blowing community that seems to be thriving, particularly here in Southern Vermont, home to dozens of consummate artisans whose creations are coveted and collected by glass aficionados around the world.
One of the most celebrated jewels in Vermont's glass menagerie is what my glass-blower friend in NYC considers to be a veritable Mecca — the Simon Pearce glass factory — so a pal and I decided to head to Windsor for a first-hand look at the madness and the method behind this complex art.
Pearce brought his family's pottery and glass business over from County Cork, Ireland, nearly 30 years ago, and today the company has a dozen retail locations — including a stunning shop on Park Avenue that I recently peeked into — as well as three other factories besides this one.
Strolling around the catwalk that overlooks their bustling operations, one instantly senses the wall of heat rising up from the cluttered, chaotic floor below and invisibly delineating the glass blowers' industrious arena.
At first glance, it's a seemingly anarchic, post-apocalyptic jungle of roaring furnaces, live flames, pipes, torches, compressed-air tanks, blowpipes, calipers, jacks, paddles, benches, giant tweezers and shears, with massive yellow ductwork snaking around the perimeter like an overfed reptile. This is extraordinarily organized chaos, albeit decidedly primal, on all fronts.
When we arrived at the factory, I'd never heard of nouns such as annealor, punty or marvel, much less knew what they meant, but, thanks to edifying self-tour signage, by the time we left, I'd learned that they were, respectively, a cooling kiln, a shaping rod and blower's equivalent to a desktop wrist rest. I also know the number of times glass blowers burn themselves: once.
That's terribly hard to believe though, watching the burly masters swinging blazing blobs of molten silica from furnace to workbench to apprentices who nimbly added finishing touches before carefully lowering their collaborations into buckets of water that suddenly spewed steam like a boiling cauldron. Yet, when finished vessels emerged, both creations and creators were miraculously intact.
The standards of these artisans are as impressive as the skills themselves. We gasped in amazement when one artisan took a tall, square vase that he'd been vigorously spinning and shaping for what seemed like an eternity and unceremoniously chucked it into a rejects bin, before grabbing another scoop of liquid glass from the belly of the blinding furnace and starting anew.
It got me wondering: Where does that seemingly volcanic ooze come from? I'd always heard it was sand, but, apparently, it's a mixture of that and various fluxes, such as borax and potash, which allow the sand to melt at lower temperatures — you know, a balmy 2,500 degrees Fahrenheit as opposed to 3,000.
The sound emanating from the banks of furnaces was as exhilarating as the image, though the behemoth roar was somehow overridden by the throb of heavy metal music, thanks to some monster stereo system camouflaged by the workshop's ubiquitous dust. Sustaining morale and motivation for these kiln warriors has got to be a top priority in an environment such as this, so it's no wonder they crank it up.
With some Simon Pearce apprentices going on to establish their own studios, the glass-blowing community in Vermont is as dynamic as ever and expanding glass arts into bold, inventive frontiers, aesthetically and professionally.
Chris Sherwin, who started out at Simon Pearce, did just that a few years ago and has taken his talents to rare, silica-defying heights in his Bellows Falls studio.
One of only about half a dozen glass artists in the country to employ a technique he fondly calls "torch-work," Sherwin pretty much paints with fire by heating the tips of colored glass rods with a blowtorch and delicately adding flowers, one petal at a time, to scorching globules that become exquisite, one-of-a-kind paperweights, vases and bowls.
"I learned a lot of it by the seat of my pants," Sherwin says of his remarkable expertise. "It's kind of like glazes for ceramics, with a lot of different properties that can affect the end result." It's an art, a science, an industry and obviously a labor of abiding love.
His path to glass-blowing was thanks to a less-than-captivating philosophy lecture in college that had him musing on what electives might add some variety to his major. He took a glass-blowing class on a whim and within a few years was leading a team at Simon Pearce. Whoever said daydreaming was a waste of time?
Sherwin welcomes visitors during Bellows Falls' third Friday Gallery Walks or by special arrangement and there many other glass blowers who do as well, including some who offer classes. Check out the sites below and visit your nearby glass artisan for a semi-up close and personal look at an art form that's been around since Mesopotamia.
To be completely accurate, the Romans were the first to actually create drinking vessels using their breath — which somehow doesn't surprise me — and if you make a trip to the Simon Pearce factory it's fun to also stop in at the Harpoon Brewery just down the hill on the way out. After a thunderously thrilling peek at the wild world of glass blowing, we certainly appreciated our pint glasses in a whole new way.
Online: sherwinartglass.com; simonpearce.com; manchesterhotglass.com; vermonthandcrafters.com; froghollow.org; galleryinthewoods.com; tsugastudios.com/
Contact Annie Guyon at [email protected]
Hi -
I'm looking for a glass blower to custom create/produce a crystal hand-sculpture of a cairn terrier dog.
Approx size: 4" x 6"
Are you an option?
D. Ross Sheridan
1847 Pilot Knob Rd.
Pilot Knob, NY 12844
p. 518 656 3576
f. 518 656 3238
c. 518 796 0475
E-mail: [email protected]
Posted by: Ross Sheridan | November 15, 2007 at 11:38 AM