Fusing glass

Two years ago, right before I left MCL to join PSU, a work colleague organized a party at Jennifer Wells glass studio.  We made ear-rings and pendants and sun-catchers out of leftover glass pieces and frit and stringer.  It was one of the most delightful times I'd spent with those people, and I kept it in the back of my mind.  I kept getting e-mail notifications of classes and events, and I kept thinking, "maybe later."

This week, later finally arrived.  Five friends agreed to meet me at the studio, and I promised to bring wine and munchies.  As usual, there were a few glitches.  AK sprained her ankle and was a no-show, and I hit rush hour traffic en route to OHSU to pick up W.  But we got there.

"Oh look, there's Collage!"  Yes, I knew W would appreciate this place.  We walked up the driveway to the small, brightly-lit cottage, hidden from the street by a large Victorian house.  It's a utilitarian room, with bright overhead lights and long plastic-covered tables in the middle.   Plastic chairs surround the tables; rectangular tubs of glass shards of varying shapes and sizes are lined up the middle, sorted by color; round plastic dishes of frit are lined up on each side of the tubs.

Becca has set up our workspaces.  We each get a pair of goggles to protect our eyes from flying glass.  However, since we all wear glasses, those are set aside.  We also get a bottle of glass cleanser, a towel, a piece of paper, a bottle of Elmer's glue, a sharpened pencil, a Sharpie pen, a glass cutter and two mysterious implements with long handles.

As we wait for K and MC, we set up the munchies (wine, pita chips, hummus, veggies, cheese, bread, home-made chocolate chip cookies with walnuts.)  M has brought an amazing bar cookie, filled with her fabulous plum jelly and flavored with almond.  It's still warm.  Becca makes some "stale tea" for W and me and fusses about with space heaters.  The room is cold at first, because November has caught her off-guard.  I can't blame her, and it soon becomes comfortable.

We explore the walls, which are lined with projects, some before-and-after displays, tables and shelves filled with glass, tubes with stringer, special glass cutting areas, a sink, file cabinets, some moveable shelves with lunch trays (brings me right back to junior high.)  The place is jam-packed, but there is sufficient walk space and we start getting ideas for our own projects.  M finds the stars ornaments and suggests she just purchase them and pretend she made them. W finds an owl stamp and is very pleased.

K and MC arrive at the same time, and after some milling about, we settle in our places for a lesson.  The safety lecture is full of DUHs:   "don't brush glass off the table like crumbs," "keep your wine glass covered," "don't rummage in the glass bins with your fingers, use your pencil."    (However, later on I find myself starting to brush the frit away.  Oy.)  The mysterious implements turn out to be the nippers (used to snip small pieces and create curves and circles) and the runners (which are used to cleanly break a piece of glass along a scored line.)  We practice scoring and breaking the glass and then we are ready to start our projects.

Since I made earrings last time, I decide to make one big piece.  I opt for a 14" round bowl.  I chose a lovely iridescent green glass, and Becca cuts the circle for me.  Although I had planned on a mosaic effect, I find myself starting on my favorite design, a half-Chartres labyrinth.  You begin with 6 concentric circles and then create the winding pathways.  I draw the circles with the sharpie, knowing that any mistakes will be fired out.  I start running glue along the lines, and Becca thoughtfully brings me a glue brush.  She suggests fine black frit for my lines, and I go slowly:  glue a little, sprinkle a little, tap the excess off onto the paper, pour it back into the dish, repeat.   At one point I realize that I forgot to clean the glass, and I have to start over.  Apparently glue and sharpie ink will fire out, but finger oils will not.  While I believe in organic art, I don't want random fingerprints on my bowl.

As I work, I think about how I can make it more interesting.  My final choice is to use various colored blobs (pre-fired scraps.)  I create an outer circle of blob stones, and then set up more stones at key points of the labyrinth.  I can't wait to see how it turns out.  Becca will fire it partway and then set it in the mold to finish firing.

The others work diligently, their projects as individual as they are themselves.  K is making mosaic tiles.  M is using copper foil to stamp out minute dragonflies.  She is making an ornament for her friends who just moved into their own communal house (the Dragonfly House.)  MC and W are also using the foil.  MC is making earrings, I think.  W is using stringer and blobs (and the owl stamp, of course.)  I decide to try one pair of earrings and unconsciously imitate W's design.  What I love about craft is how differently everyone approaches the activity.  Yet all the choices are valid, and these bits of glass will be fused into things of beauty, rounded, flattened, melded.  We are none of us able to predict the finished product, which adds mystery to the process.

In all, it's a hopeful sort of activity.  You work, you experiment, and you see what happens. Usually, you are surprised, but usually you are happy with the result.  And you can't ask for much better from a few hours of work.