Art On The Fringe Of (Studio) Glass

WALTER ZIMMERMAN FROM 1980 TO NOW

Urban Unit #3, Red. 18" x 15" x 12"

"I was trying to push my glass making further and further from the accepted 
realm of high technique...[the work was] less about glass 
(if it spoke of glass at all) and more about things of the flesh."                                                           -W. Zimmerman, 2014

Section Three, detail (glass)  2004. Firehouse Gallery, Burlington, VT.

When Walter Zimmerman engaged in this interview, I had no idea how much I would identify with his experience working on the edges of the Glass world. Overlooked at times, he speaks of rejection and ironic revival.  His resounding thoughts are those of many who work on the outskirts of their medium.  Zimmerman embodies the artist on a road that left Studio Glass, or was never there to begin with.

Now, as Glass becomes an integrated Art material,  Zimmerman's older work suddenly feels like it was always an obvious step toward the 21st Century.  His path is not a linear evolution from Glass to Art, rather, he was on a far away ledge from the start. With late-career recognition, Zimmerman leaves us with the ongoing question:


"what makes a work or idea become accepted by critics, collectors, and other artists?"

Journal (part of Installation below)

NOTE TO THE READER:
This 4-question article is a gift of historical humor and explanations of an artist's subconscious. Due to being a treasure to me personally, I decided to leave most answers in their entirety. I believe that it will be enjoyed, especially by those who have walked alone. If the reading requires too much time, scroll to the end for the best story of all!                                                   -S.R. Rockriver

QUESTION:
1. How has your work evolved over the years? In terms of your choosing, such as content, material, personal narrative, universal narrative, etc...

WALTER ZIMMERMAN:
"In terms of the evolution of my work, and specifically concerning changes in content, I don't feel there's been much change, if any at all.  My work has always sprung mainly from the collision of chance -- the discarded metal box in the dumpster, the knot of wire in the gutter -- and a kind of inner flash of intuition, that serves as the starting point for the adventure of making new work.  (Which, by the way, I avoid doing unless I absolutely must.  To goad myself into making any work at all, I find commitments which I feel obliged to honor, and use my early, guilt-ridden Presbyterian upbringing to propel me toward meeting my obligations.)Whatever content there may be springs from my interest in things non-artistic: insect life; economics; social phenomena; all guided, when the going gets murky, by references to my toxic childhood.

Journal  (detail below)

Journal
For Gallery: Click to Enlarge

A further, more recent development has been my shift from glass-centered sculptures, to larger, more figurative works, many of which I want to suspend in the viewing space, either from the ceiling, or from specially-constructed, industrial-looking wall-mounted braces.  This work sprang largely from a time constraint, although I'd explored the techniques over twenty years ago, when I was entertaining the idea of a career in Art Therapy.  I made some cardboard and plastic and yarn hanging objects that I intended to resemble the cocoons and chrysalides that moths and butterflies occupy during their metamorphosis.  In 2010, I was in a large group show at the Pritchard Gallery of the University of Idaho, in Moscow ID, and I had to be on site to install my work.   I was thrilled to be in this show, as the De La Torre brothers were the stars, and I got to go out drinking with them.  

Section Three, detail

But awaiting me back at home was a commitment to a three-person invitational at a well-known local community gallery.  And I had only time enough to make one of my labor-intensive glass-focused cart pieces, so I made a five-piece suite of larger versions of those old chrysalides -- one of them being longer than I am tall (6'2" without my work boots), and devised hanging brackets of black gas pipe.  The principle materials here were plastic sump pump hose, plastic drop cloths and trash bags of varying thicknesses, and a surface coat of amber shellac.  I've continued making such pieces ever since, and have also begun creating smaller, rectangular 'close-ups' of the hanging works -- almost in the spirit of diagnostic images, or illustrations for a medical text.  I thought about including my glass shapes in these figures, but decided that such a move was gratuitous, as the works clearly didn't need the burden of another material, however similar it might be, in form or surface quality.  I've continued with these works, as well as creating the occasional glass piece, as the new one I made for the Fellows' exhibit at the Wheaton Village Museum of American Glass.

Note: works in this article that feature Glass:  URBAN UNIT- SECTION THREE- CART, RED

Section Three, detail

Material changes…   Having lived in apartments for my entire adult life, I had never even seen a dry-wall screw before 1992!  At the same time, I was trying to push my glass making further and further from the accepted realm of high technique and the search for perfection, and deeper into a use of the material that spoke less about glass (if it spoke of glass at all) and more about things of the flesh.  Now, I tend to buy unused industrial materials, as my construction vocabulary has sharpened, and I don't have time to wait for a length of copper tubing to show up by the side of the road. 

Perhaps more importantly, since I left my college teaching position, and have lost a reliable and affordable access to a hot glass facility, I have been using non-glass materials, such as plastics, which I treat with a heat gun, using heat to shrink my work, instead of inflating it.  But I think that the impact of glass is undeniable, even in work using such radically different materials.  Transparency, layering of 'events', accumulation of material, and a sense of vulnerability remain crucial factors in my current work.

Journal

Personal narrative…  Let me tell you two seemingly unrelated little stories.  In undergraduate school, I discovered theater.  One of my teachers was a grad student -- Rosie Pickering.  Because she was also working on her MFA, she was in a lot of plays.  In her performance in The Three Sisters, when the lights came up, she was found in her bedroom, crying disconsolately.  Every night.  During a class, another student asked how Rosie managed to be so consistently heart-broken, night after night.  She said that there was a particular emotional place she could access, that never failed to bring her to tears.  When the student went on to ask what that place was, Rosie said that she would not reveal this, because of her conviction that sharing this intimate knowledge would erase the power this place had for her.  

Neva, detail. Entire: 38" x  34"

When I was working on my own MFA in glassblowing, I had a critique with an adjunct in the Foundations Department, Pam Blum.  She was a brilliant intellect, and I was actually a little frightened of having her look at my work.  When she was able to visit my studio, I'd already begun dismantling an installation I'd made, as an end-of-semester project.  Rather than focusing only on the intact work still on the walls, she began responding to the entire visual array in front of her -- including the traces of work I'd already taken down.  Holes left by cup hooks, on which I'd built a set of cocoon-like sketches, in which my glass objects were hidden.  I was astonished at her openness to addressing what was right in front of her, instead of what she was 'supposed' to look at.  But I felt guilty, and over a cheeseburger, I confessed that, for the most part, I didn't really 'know' what I was doing, at least in the terms I felt she would understand.  She seemed unphased.  'Oh,' she said, 'not knowing is always better than knowing.  But when not knowing doesn't work, you'd better know.'  I call this The Pam Blum Dictum.

So.  If my work has a narrative, it's usually something almost hallucinatory -- as when I was working on my piece 'Safety Yellow', and for some reason I found myself thinking of what it would be like, if I were a newly defunded medical researcher, working in a Southeast Asian jungle during the rainy season, and trying desperately to find a cure for malaria.  (When, in fact, I was building the piece as a formal variation of '600-D', the work hidden somewhere in the basement of the Renwick...)  Another work seemed to crystalize itself when, after my partner complained about the bottles I'd let accumulate beside our kitchen sink, I began putting the bottles in a wine box, so it would be easier to get them all to the dumpster.  By the time I'd inserted perhaps three of the seven or eight glass wine bottles into the egg-crate innards of the box, the basic vision for 'One Doesn't' coalesced.  And as I began working to transform that cardboard box -- which is still the physical basis for the piece, although it's been completely covered with aluminum sheeting -- I somehow started thinking about a recent news article, revealing the new prison practice, of having inmates work, at maybe a quarter per hour, on profit-making products for the prison administrations.  It's unclear to me, whether this tangential idea actually had any impact on the work, but it was on my mind as I kept working. 

Due Process (suspended hospital gurney)

When I work, then, I begin with an intuitive flash.  And, when inspiration -- or Pm Blum's 'not knowing' -- flags, I go to my reliable source of inner clarity -- a place that can, unfailingly, help me back to clarity.  In my case, unlike Rosie's, I can safely reveal that my 'tool for knowing' is my family.  A number of my pieces are, for me, family portraits -- but I never talk about this with viewers, as I'm far less interested in telling a specific story, and much more interested in creating work which will, I hope, radiate meaning, and will provide viewers with a catalyst for their own imaginings.

Which brings us to universal narrative.  And as much as it makes me flinch to admit to the creation of didactic, programmatic or tendentious sculpture, there is a consistent set of concerns underpinning my work -- besides the general retelling of my life with my toxic family of origin, that is -- inform my material and formal creative choices.  

Section Three, detail

If the perfect piece of glass, behind a protective barrier, or secure on a pristine pedestal, is the ideal, what am I worth, broken human that I am?  What good am I, if I've been wounded, or am imperfect, or headed irrevocably in the wrong direction?  What do my vulnerabilities look like, and how do they change the way others see me and/or themselves?  These, I feel, are questions that few artists working in glass come anywhere close to addressing.   And are certainly not subjects many collectors seem interested in keeping around their houses, or at least out in plain sight."

QUESTION:
2. What is the relationship between the narrative and treatment of materials?

WALTER ZIMERMAN:
"I choose materials that have, in general, no special intrinsic or social value: industrial parts, found objects of dubious history, blown glass shapes that are deliberately unlovely and look unclean.  Plastics and rubber help evoke physicality, fleshiness and a certain emotional numbness. 

 I generally put layer after layer of unattractive paints and shellac onto the support structures built, most often, of copper plumbing pipe (it's so easy to sweat solder, and that's probably the most sophisticated process I use, aside from the glassblowing, of course), but lately, also black iron gas pipe. 

Individual Piece From 21-section assembly
 (each 18" x 12" x 10"): 

JOURNAL: 21 DAYS LEVEL FOUR.

My urge here is to create the visual equivalent of the passage of time -- it's amazing how easy it is to convey time, by building up thick layers of sloppy paint.  I also prefer that things look sloppy and indifferently done, when they're not rigidly controlled and reeking of the clinic and the research lab.  

Layers: Section Three

And after the initial gathers of glass -- which I treat as though I were planning to make a lovely vase -- I put the piece through a set of layerings and water quenchings, which give the brand-new, 45-minute-old piece of glass the convincing air of something just unearthed from a centuries-long burial.  

And, because I don't want the viewer to feel too comfortable with, or protected from a piece that might seem to have come from some distant past that is no longer a threat, I try always to include one element that looks especially clean or new or relatively unimpacted by the trauma apparently suffered by everything else in the piece."

Journal

QUESTION:

3. What growth have you seen in Art from the early1990's until now?

WALTER ZIMMERMAN:
"To be brutally honest (sorry for the change in type size here -- the computer raises its inexplicably tyrannical head yet again…) I don't really pay much attention to what is referred to as 'the contemporary art world'.  Ben Shahn is credited with this: If I go to an art show opening, and the work is bad, I'm angry with myself because I'm not back in my studio, working.  If I go to an art show opening, and the work is wonderful, I'm angry with myself because I'm not back in my studio working.  I find most of the galleries in New York to be a reliable source for a potent atmospheric combination of intimidation and condescending indifference.   Which is made all the more galling, when the work on display is so very very poor, and in place for God only knows what reason.  From the occasional contact I have with other artists I respect, I am not alone in these reactions.

As for the term 'growth', I think that in itself is a loaded term, implying a linear, coherent, progressive development in a field where, it seems to me, there isn't much indication of a common cohesive thrust, or a shared set of standards.  This may not be unique in art history, which only looks logical and progressive, because hindsight is always 20/20. 

Bone of My Bone, 60" x 36" x 18" Amos Eno, Brooklyn, NY.

That said, I do think that, as far as contemporary glass and artists working with glass today, there has been more of a trend toward mixed-media work, and the creation of objects and installations which fall outside the classic 'thin is good, delicate is the goal, more dolphins please' purview.  (And I wouldn't be so frank here, if I didn't sincerely feel so irrelevant to, and marginalized by, so many of my fellow artists working in glass.  I suspect that, pleasant though I can be socially, I'm still considered to be something of an insignificant art joke)  When I was still actively teaching, as a full-time college professor, struggling in an impoverished imitation glass facility to help my students realize their ideas, I was consistently amazed and gratified by the diversity and imaginativeness of the work these glass novices were producing.  But, as so many of us know, within two years of graduation, most former art students aren't working in anything resembling an art career.  It is interesting to watch post academic careers...I so hope I'm wrong, with regard to the societal shuffling aside of these young energies."  

... The topic of this article hit on a deeper life note here, at the end of our interview...this was part of a private conversation we agreed to print...

QUESTION:
Do you think that your approach was overlooked due to a slanted view of Glass at the time?
(For instance, I personally found that my work once was way too radical, dirty, aged, natural, raw, and not glassy enough...It now it seems to have contributed to a generation that is quickly evolving.)

WALTER ZIMMERMAN:
"Another aside, vis a vis the level at which my work seems to have settled, in the eyes of the collecting population: for several years, I faithfully offered a small, tightly-made piece of my work for the annual fundraising auction for UrbanGlass.  The first piece was actually bought.  After that, my work -- always relegated to the silent auction --  generated not a single bid.  Until finally, the folks in charge of the annual fundraiser contacted me and asked that I not contribute work any more, as they were tired of paying the return postage.  How flattering is that?"

And this, in spite of critical attention, consistent exhibition activity, visible presence as a board member of CGCA, and the bare fact that Dale Chihuly himself bought $15,000 worth of my work, to make it possible for me to produce a catalog, for the little solo show I had at the Everson Museum, in 1997.  One of the pieces he bought -- a work from my MFA exhibit, by the way, was donated, under his name, to the Renwick --

Cart, Red. detail, 2002. 62"  x 22" x 12".

Further, to update things, Sculpture Magazine published, relatively recently, 'A Sculpture Reader;  Contemporary Sculpture Since 1980'  Along with reviews of Martin Puryear, Anne Hamilton, Tony Oursler, etc. etc, is an essay on my work.  If I'm not mistaken, I'm the only artist in the book who works with glass.  What, one wonders, does it take, to establish one's artistic credentials, vis a vis the museum and collecting communities?"

Addendum:

Just as our time came to a close,  I was not sure that Mr. Zimmerman had said everything could about his view on materials and content. As is clear by the work, he is deeply engaged in a process in which he creates his own language. The topic of technique and material came up in the Glass Secessionism Facebook Group.

This is what Zimmerman had to say:

"Well, as a glass artist whose work is frequently mistaken for some other materials (though no one ever specifies just what these other materials might be) I would say that there are many techniques. Many techniques focus on the dexterity of the artists themselves, and produce objects which are immediately appealing to, and reassuring of, commonly-accepted cultural values and go. My techniques produce results that aren't pretty, and don't have dolphins all over the place. My techniques focus more on glass's incomparable capacity for evoking tensions and surface conditions native to the human experience. My techniques, and the works made by those techniques, challenge viewers, by providing an opportunity to examine those viewers' biases about beauty and function. One underlying question my unlovely, encrusted mounds of glass objects brings up is this: can you only love or respect that which is perfect, which is precious, and which is immediately pleasant to look at? If this is so, what are you going to do when the one you love most isn't perfect, or usefully productive, or beautiful anymore? This question, rarely answered, at least in my experience, is not an idle one -- and I feel that without access to, and use of my particular version of technique, asking this poignant, inescapable core human question, through the use of glass and its silent physical eloquence, would be impossible.    

FINAL NOTES
Walter Zimmerman has a personal narrative that manifests through his and our subconscious. His work undergoes tremendous stress and pressure as it becomes a reflection of a private psyche. The works are journals of struggle, survival, protection, anguish, and age. Each piece echoes of Zimmerman's voice and time intensive revisions. Unearthed after enduring treatments, these works live to tell the story of their birth,  torture, and recovery.

Zimmerman at Amos Eno, 2014. VISION/REVISION, solo exhibition.

Materials for Journal Pieces: backing supports of homasote board, 18" x 12". Understructures of plastic shopping bags, stuffing from old quilts, crushed (and rinsed) half gallon plastic milk jugs, knots of sump pump hose.

        

    -WALTER ZIMMERMAN,  2014 interview conducted by S.R. Rockriver

Christina Bothwell: Dissolving Autonomies

Christina Bothwell: Dissolving Autonomies      ROCKRIVER MAY 2014

Topics from the Glass Secessionism Facebook Group: 

                        narrative- materiality- content- material choice- evolution

CONTRIBUTIONS

Tim Tate voiced the longtime concerns of many and got these ideas out to the world.  While remaining true to his convictions, he has maintained endurance since he first wrote about Glass Secessionism. William Warmus has brought validity to this subject, sacrificed the easier road,  and engendered critical discussions on developing theorieis. Patrick Blythe's humility is accompanied by strength; we all benefit from his graciousness and guidance, not mention witnessing such growth in his work.  Christina Bothwell is as kind as Patrick said! I appreciate her personal path,  generosity,  and am honored by her permission in writing this essay. Much gratitude to all of the members of the GS group for retaining independent thought in the presence of diversity.  May we continue to witness the evolution of Glass as it integrates with Art in general.

The work of Christina Bothwell will guide an analysis of narrative and materiality.
This framework will address the current process of Secession from Studio Glass and suggest areas of regression.  

Independent growth is the root impetus for GS artists such as Bothwell.  In this vein, we will also examine how GS relates to other art that secedes. 

Concluding Notes:
-Infancy and maturation of GS.
-Glass as a material specific to GS.
-Evolution of multidisciplinary art away from compartmentalization
-Independent modes of Secession in Glass
-Functions of autonomy and plurality

MATERIAL PURPOSE

I selected Christina Bothwell's work because it embodies many of the GS concepts in this discussion. I personally identify with her approach. We both realized our intent by incorporating glass with ceramics. Our paths diverged, as we developed multimedia techniques that best communicated our vision. Ours were acts of neccesity, that happened to break from tradition. Glass Seccessionism provided a context for such glass that redefines a material's purpose..

BOTHWELL'S APPROACH

(scroll down to view image)
"Might As Well Be Spring" cast glass, raku clay, oil paints, 12″ x 15″ x 12″

Christina Bothwell makes figurative sculptures that blend glass, ceramics, paint, found objects, occasionally cement, and more.  She uses materials to enhance her personal narratives which stir great emotion in the viewer. I will be focusing on how Bothwell's sense of materiality creates a presence greater than ideas alone. This essay questions whether it is necessary or even possible for a deeply layered narrative to be autonomous from its own materiality.

BACKGROUND

In Glass Secessionism, the relationship between content and material has parameters, in which ideas are paramount, and the subject is not based on materials. Thistledown notion is designed to ensure that GS works are not derived from the technical or material aesthetic  in Studio Glass. GS seeks a different conversation about glass.   Rejection topics on material maintains a focus on the narrative interests of GS. However, the glass material is still part of how GS artists make their ideas succeed.  Material is inherent in that any a final narrative will vary depending on the material used, and how it was treated.

The Glass Secessionism group has a pinned post from an article written by Tim Tate.  It is a reference guide for discussions. All participants are asked to read it.  They are not required to agree with the article or identify as Glass Secessionists. The Tate article is designed to keep topics on track and provide answers to frequently asked questions. 

PROVIDED DEFINITIONS

In addressing narrative and materiality, Tate states that Glass Secessionism...

1. "tends to include a focus on narrative.  I (Tate) define narrative as ideas and concepts that exist autonomously from their own materiality."

2. "is not in the form of abstract expressionism."

Since the date of the article,  Tate has further explained these points.

- "autonomous" does not mean there is a wall between narrative and material.
(Autonomy is freedom from external control or influence, self-governance, independence self-determination)

- "abstract expressionism"  means "abstract".
(In this context, abstract works are based on color, form, and are technique driven)

-"materiality" refers to the material qualities of glass that have visual apeal, such as light transmission,  color,  and fluidity. 

FORMALISM

"Formalism" would be my preferred framework for the above terms

    Formalism is the study of art by analyzing and comparing form and style—the wa  objects are made and their purely visual aspects.

I sought clarification on the above statements. To the best of my ability and research,  I have interpreted these tenets. I have also inferred the intended use of the above terms,  based on discussions.  While the above words in quotation are not consistent with their historical definitions, they are consistent with their intent. 

Formalism is at the root of the above uses of "materiality" and "abstract". May the reader keep in mind that I use the given words based on their function in the GS paper.   Additionally,  I will  refer "abstract", rather than "formal",  although the definition of "abstraction" has been under scrutiny.

The GS goal is to identify trends in 21st Century glass. Contemporary works tend to avoid Formalism.  Concrete Narratives and Representationalism have become a prevalent example of how to do this. I will contend that  Intentional uses of materiality are not necessarily "abstract" or "formalist". 

A SEPARATION FROM STUDIO GLASS

Glass Secessionism changes the subject in glass. Narrative has been the primary example of how to do that. Discussions avoid the topic of materiality, as it could misguide the separation from Studio Glass. 

By distancing itself from topics on materiality, GS maintains that there is a definition of suitable content

While I support the intent of Glass Secessionism,  I write this essay to examine whether it is logically possible to make successful art if narrative is more important than material. One member pointed out that this is not different from the Studio Glass propensity to place material before narrative.

Does the set of GS terms include those who Secede in their own way and for their own reasons?

MATERIALITY IS NOT ABSTRACT

The rationale to separate from pure formalism is that abstract work undermines the content driven tenet of Glass Secessionism. However "materiality" and "abstraction" are not the same. I value the marriage between a story and the material that tells it. The way a material is used is a crucial element in communicating intent. Placing value in materiality, does not necessarily result in only abstract works. Furthermore, not all abstract works have a sense of materiality.

At this point, the essay need go no further, if I misunderstand. Apologies now, if the discussion is based on misconception.
However, my own lack of clarity may reflect the questions of many. After numerous GS threads, it is not obvious (to me) if this Secession process intends to devalue materiality.

Can the Visual Artist utilize "materiality" to create non-abstract content?

MEANS TO AN END

Glass Secessionism finds content in narrative, story,  concept, or idea.  The material is a means to this end: the artist's intent. GS works that are idea driven must still be made partly in glass. This is Secessionism IN glass not FROM glass. The choice of glass as a material is significant to the artist's intent.

One of the GS goals is to integrate works that use Glass into the greater Art dialog. GS enjoys the execution of an idea that uses many materials. The breeding of glass with other materials is a component of how GS integrates into Art. It is not done through content alone.

The following examination of Christina Bothwell's work focuses on her choice to use glass,  although she does integrate it with other materials. (Presumably,  the Glass Seccessionist has a notion of how the material properties of glass best articulate their narrative.)

MATERIALITY AND  AUTONOMY

Bothwell says that she was drawn to glass because of its transparency, that it was like water.
Her dreamlike inner spirits are contained by outer figures.  Partially obscured,  the core is visible from an underworld of the emotive glass. Infact, her use of a material quality (translucency) results in works that are NOT abstract. She does not use the material symbolically, nor is there any other material she could use to tell her story. For Bothwell, materiality emotes the relationship between the internal and external, the parent and child, the conscious and subconscious, and the past and present.

Bothwell also realized that parenthood challenged her personal autonomy, as she became interconnected with the new lives she created. Her characters are inseparable. We sense a peaceful calling from an inner life that is ever present, though not always visible. In some of her works, we see these phases of life. As Bothwell's children grow,  memories shift focus as souls  identify new bonds. In general, Bothwell's life and art are transitory, autonomy asserts itself  in times of separation and isolation, new relationships arise and become grounded after personal transition.

MATERIAL CHOICE AND NARRATIVE

I would like to elaborate on the importance of what I call a "material choice",  which is determined by the artist's personal motivation to use glass. The choice of material may be a means to an end, but for Bothwell, the materiality of the glass is not an end in itself. Materiality is pivotal to the content.
Before becoming a glass caster, Bothwell worked in clay and found it restricted her.
Ceramics in isolation had a feeling of heaviness and density that restricted her narratives. 
Infact, the stories themselves would be almost impossible to execute without her material choices.
I agree that her general motivations for making art, "exist autonomously from their own materiality".
However, the success of her work is in how she makes a "material choice" and utilizes "materiality".

The power of this artwork does not come from the story alone, but is uniquely felt through the dialog of material qualities. The glass component gives her work an inner luminosity and sense of the ethereal. In contrast is the aged, rough, and opaque clay portions located at the head and extremities.  The soul of her characters has an interior world, while the clay sections are still solid, and restrained. Materiality is part of how she adds detail to the story and identifies symbolic components of the figure..

Her initial narrative is in isolation until she uses materiality as a means to a greater end. In general, a story alone can lack dimensionality, just as material alone can be abstract. Neither can be evocative of the artist's intent without the other. The Glass Secessionism notion that works be "idea driven", still requires that the artist intends to use materiality to better execute a their narrative.

MATERIAL INFLUENCE ON CONCEPTS 

The Bothwell is also an example of how concept and material are enhanced by being interrelated. 
The act of working with glass transformed her narrative potential and  transformed the capacity of her concepts. Bothwell was once restricted by clay,  but her ideas have since been expanded by glass.

Material sensitivity leads Bothwell to expose concepts that may not have otherwise been considered.
Her multi-dimensional works are presented as layers of the subconscious, memories, passing of time, autonomy, and an inner-life. In Bothwell's work, the specific material quality of the glass allows for the viewer see her figures relate to the world on many levels simultaneously. To me, the development and presentation of ideas in her works do not portray an autonomy from their own materiality. 

Additional note from a GS discussion on narrative, autonomy, and materiality:
A highly respected GS identified artist noted that his ideas evolve during the process of working. The original intent is alway there, but he also listens to his materials. The narrative deepens as he works. When a process shows him something new, other projects sprout from those material experiences.
He does not compartmentalize these categories.

MATERIALITY VS. MATERIAL DRIVEN

Material choice is how the artist arrives at glass. The artist realizes that some material property of glass provides the best mode of communication. The artist applies their intent to establish a materiality unique to their narrative.  Ultimately, materiality becomes one of the drivers in alternative approaches to  narratives in glass.

The topic of glass as a material choice has been circumvented by GS for the sake of clarity. However, the avoidance of "materiality" presents a thin view of glass as a material. The GS position is that the more seductive aspects of glass such as light and transparency, detract from a focus on content.  We know that material quality is the reason any artist selects a material and the GS artist exercises material choice. If they do not use glass, I will assume that particular work will not be "Glass" Secessionism.

There are material aspects of glass that are being redefined as a result of works made by GS artists. Some works are inspired by a conscious retreat from simplistic definitions of the material. It seems that in the process of purging, GS has overlooked the material developments in the Secession. By associating materiality with the abstract and technically driven, GS unintentionally creates a closed compartment for innovations in the glass material. Placing ideas over materials further filters the works, and shines a light on Narrative.  A multimedia, pluralistic intent may be present, or even assumed. However, when narratives are viewed as "autonomous from their own materiality",  this is an inadvertent demotion of glass as a material.

CURRENT EVOLUTIONS

The Tate paper was written at a time when it was crucial to cut all ties to the past.  For more than a decade, glass artworks have consistently been seceding.  GS is positioned to act as if it has already separated from Studio Glass. GS defined a Secession from Studio Glass, using Photo Secessionism as a starting point. This format intentionally rejected topics in the glass material itself. As seen above, there are reasons for de-emphasizing material, as well as (unintended) implications.

The overall tone of this glass era differs from the days of early photography.   The Photo Secessionism model was developed during a time when art materials were not freely mixed. In the 21st Century, there is an evolution in which art concepts and materials are blended. Cross-breeding and material innovations are prevalent. 

We are in a new place of Art in general, and Glass Secessionism is a great example of this development.  However, the model GS is based on does not address this.  Some have explained that this was done so by design, to identify the face of the Transition Period itself, and not the broader or future context of Art. The goals of both Secessions were to break away from an autonomy of practices and integrate into Fine Art. 

SECESSION IN GLASS

The omission of material discussion engenders the notion that materiality in glass can only become abstract or technical. Perhaps GS is not ready to include material evolutions in glass and revisit the topic of materiality. However, material development is already happening in narrative works posted on GS Facebook.

Material evolution is an under examined part of the secession process.  The material secession in glass has been quarantined and has yet to be fully encouraged. Perhaps this was designed to avoid a regression back to approaches that are shallow when compared to the idea driven tenets of GS.. Will untapping the potential of glass as a material create misinterpretations of the act of secession?

PRESENT DAY PLURALISM

Pluralism denotes a diversity of views and stands rather than a single approach or method of interpretation:

There is value in the material aspect of Secession in Glass. Furthermore, materiality,  innovation,  and content are all components of the resulting permutations in 21st Century Glass and Art. Above all, a singular approach undermines the value of glass as a material. Photographers still use innovative techniques in concert with narrative.  Photography has seceded. We do not need to displace materiality in order to make 21Century Art that uses glass. 

Parental wisdom must be the basis for GS to discourage expansion. The tenets have a tone of caution which rightfully protect its innocent stages from misguidance.  Prior to maturity,  GS may need to maintain isolated boundaries, like a parent protecting a child.  When it is time to cut these ties, GS can exit the separatist phase and encourage a plurality of approaches. We will enter present day art making that places value in the yet undefined. GS would be giving responsibility to the artist to create their own vision of how and why they secede.

DISSOLVING AUTONOMIES

Autonomy is defined as freedom from external control or influence, self-governance, independence self-determination.

 In writing this essay, I realized that the use of "autonomy" in a GS definition of narrative creates limitations in the integration process. While it is one person's view,  the definition itself has hindered the discussion of "materiality".  GS aims toward a Glass Art that is not a self-limiting category.  Although glass was once confined, artists took risks and intersected with other mediums and techniques, forming hybrids and permutations. The notion of autonomous aspects of content is already dissolving before our eyes, in GS as well..

CONCLUSION

I examined the limitations of narratives that are considered autonomous from their own materiality.  Glass Secessionism may not be ready for a self-defined secession that intertwines art concepts and materials. However, Contemporary Glass Art evolves as it deals with complex narratives and uses multiple materials, often in unexpected contexts. 

The path of the artist is no longer defined by the use of one medium. Glass Secessionism is a microcosm of the broader establishment of works that blend media and create offsprings that are then re-bred with concepts normally associated with another material. Narrative which was once associated with painting, photo, and video is an unusual presence in Glass. This unexpected use of glass is a genre of secession, but not the only way to secede. Breaking the boundaries of a medium or concept is part of the multidisciplinary face of all 21st Century Art.  

Christina Bothwell's work exemplifies a melding of narrative and materiality, which is absent of autonomy in content and material. Her hybridizations are part of a larger art movement away from a singularity of material and concepts. Present day plurality breaks the boundaries between disciplines. By rejecting separations, we are dissolving autonomies.

Image: Christina Bothwell
"Might As Well Be Spring" cast glass, raku clay, oil paints, 12″ x 15″ x 12″

William Loveless: From the Abstract to the Concrete

William Loveless: From the Abstract to the Concrete

When the glue dries on a William Loveless painting, it reveals an ink imprint of a past event. Loveless captures the moment his liquid color interacts with glue. Each artifact is a blossoming reaction frozen in time. His final paintings are collections of these single events that he refers to as "expansions".  

My gratitude to Mr. Loveless for agreeing to this interview, as I am interested in how he views his work. Our discussion started because I wanted to make the distinction that Loveless is not dealing with the abstract. This interview gave me a deeper understanding of his intent while extending my ongoing interpretation of his work.

*(Scroll down for images and his solo exhibition at Michael Warren Contemporary.)

What were your painting approaches before you used glue?

WL:  "Experimental, process and pattern oriented, conceptual."

When did you start working with glue? How soon after that was your approach focused?

WL: "1993. At first I was just dropping various inks and watercolors on an overall bed of glue and allowing them to interact with each other randomly. Then I became interested in their individual properties and began categorizing and combining them in a more organized fashion. Eventually "research" became the key. 

Do you think that how the work is made is important?

"How the work is made is essential. It's a process with its own rigor, discipline, nomenclature and priorities. It's not only about the doing, but about the moment and environmental factors that shape it as well."

Do you show videos with the work?  

Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UtQbZ4yByU

"The most spectacular stage of my glue painting process is the one that's only seen by me - the interval between dropping the color within the wet cell and the completed “bloom” - the expansion itself.

Video has proved valuable in recording this process, but requires a special separate set-up to capture. Placing priority on this would be a different endeavor entirely from creating the actual paintings. A possible project for the future, but no, I'm not currently exhibiting any video to complement the work."

Do you see your work as going beyond the abstract?

WL:"Abstraction suggests a representational starting point from which a visual essence is extracted, so I would consider my work not so much “beyond” the abstract, as detached altogether from issues of representation and symbolism."

"If, however, the “abstract” can be considered a term for an intellectual construct awaiting physical manifestation then I'd say my work moves beyond abstraction in reverse - from the abstract to the concrete. Research indicates which combinations of materials will produce desired results, but it's only in the physical application that they can be truly known."

Aside from the collection of data, is your work a reflection of science? 

WL:   "My work resembles science the way representational art resembles reality.  It has all the appearance of a scientific method, but its goals are merely aesthetic. This is not to say that my research isn't sincere, that my methods are not rigorous, that my approach is not practical in its own application.  But since it falls under the category of "art" rather than "science" I'm allowed the flexibility of following my intuition and inspiration .

Do you see your expansions as microcosms of water rivulettes, fractals, and aerial topography?

WL:  "Each expansion is a microcosm unto itself, with no references intended.  The fact that they might resemble patterns we find elsewhere is coincidental to the nature of the physical reality we live in.

Does your audience read tangible imagery into your work, such as a jelly fish? Is your imagery based entirely on the chemicals and colors in the expansion process? Is representationalism not a concern?

WL: "It is only human to recognize resemblances. I find myself doing it as well. The work, of course, remains independent of all interpretation."

In terms of material realism, do you believe that the material creates its own reality?

WL: "My primary purpose is to set up a situation where the materials reveal themselves and express their own nature without interference. They are not forced to conform to the artist's wishes. They are liberated to reveal their own beauty."

Do you find this reality to be non-human..?pre or post human...?

WL: "The whole point of the exercise is that it is outside human control. It surprises."

Loveless witnesses an interaction of materials, rather than controlling it.  He orchestrates simple components to form complex results. Loveless implements variables to breed infinite outcomes. The relationship between mutations engages the viewer in a broader language. While Loveless states that his goals are aesthetic, rather than scientific, his works do create a dialog that goes beyond pure aesthetics.

In my earlier blog essay: "Narrative Material Realism", I came to realize that William Loveless has a type of narrative that is based on the work's process. To me, his paintings create their own reality. He explains that his art is a "concrete" realization of material interactions.  Loveless does not use outside references to define his imagery because his approach creates its own context. 

"INTRODUCTIONS" - Opening May 15, 2014 - 

Michael Warren Contemporary Art 760 Santa Fe Dr., Denver, Colorado
http://www.michaelwarrencontemporary.com/#!william-loveless/cd3v

ARTIST INFO AND RECENT WORK:

New Titles, Dimensions, and Chemical Tests at:

http://wlovelessart.blogspot.com/

Series Numbers:

https://m.facebook.com/pages/Glue-Paintings-by-William-Loveless/145899145437954?_rdr

Dimensions Range on Average from: 10"- 48" Rectangles

Past Works Below are Titled by Series Number

#1119, ink and watercolor suspended in polyvinyl resin (77 formulas) 24 × 36 " w

Single Expansion

https://m.facebook.com/pages/Glue-Paintings-by-William-Loveless/145899145437954?_rdr

A Narrative on Material Science in Art

writer:  sally resnik rockriver 

When I left a promising opportunity in science, I took experience with me. As a teen, I spent the summer doing genetic engineering. On the precipice of AIDS research,  high school students were afforded the opportunity to place a gene into a bacteria and make it immune to hydroxy urea. The evening news flashed images of electroflourises in a lab much like the one at the University summer program. However,  I was not compelled with a feeling that this would be  my future.

The laboratory did appeal to me as well as the whole concept of using chemicals to make real genetic changes.
We mixed solutions and suddenly the RNA chain was separated from the DNA. Then more chemistry placed a gene onto the chain. How was all that possible?
Meanwhile, I attended extracurricular art classes and found that at the age of 16, I was painting landscapes of other planets.  These passions seemed to be in opposition,  but to me they were obviously related.

As a potter, my mother had passed on a full vocabulary of glaze ingredients and running the equipment in her studio. She also instilled reusing scrap materials and practicing an honesty of process.
Her work appealed to a broad audience becuase she portrayed the lanscape we live in.

As a philosopher of math,  my father showed me the analytical and cultural predisposition of humans. He was involved in the question of whether numbers were "real". His books questioned the language of numbers and evaluated their relationship to the human definition.

These factors all lead to how I saw my artwork.

When I decided to pursue art, my first big solo project was to build a woodburning kiln. I appreciated the chemistry of wood ash turning into glass. In 1990, I found the ceramics department focused more on form, while i was interested in chemistry. I studied privately with Sally Prange to learn more glaze chemistry. Afterward,  I used a formula given to me by Al McCanliss and tought myself to grow crystalline glazes.
I rejected the pottery form and made flat paintings that were only about the chemical formation of the glaze. I called them "Geochemical Landscapes". I pushed away from the clay medium and began to believe that geochemistry as a topic in art was valid. I had already concluded that a sunset held universal communication. To me, the crystals I grew had a similar beauty. I thought, someone in a primitive culture in Africa could understand my work without any education in art history.

I lost my sense of smell for 20 years, starting at the age of 12. I was pretty sure that there were more than five possible senses or modes of perception.
We humans had five that responded to vibration waves, but what kind of senses did other beings have?
I wondered if aliens felt sunsets rather than seeing them.
Maybe these beings were an energy that could not be perceived by us....

I entered graduate school in 1993 with a few core beliefs. Science could be used as a form of communication. Scientific processes could be used to make art. There was more to the world than human perception. And that materials and processes did not need to be have a human narrative. They represented a real world of their own and the history of how they came to be.

In graduate school I found that my focus on process did not go deep enough for the rigorous conceptual  program. I pursued another type of  "universal". I built installation spaces in which I performed rituals. I was interested in the common human need to enact rites of passage to signify emotional transitions. I showed with performance artists and found an audience that wanted tp participate. They would make a hand impression out of clay, write a question about their life direction, and burn the paper in their clay imprint. I kept the hands and they were given a crystalline shard. I collected their signatures on an object that became symbolic of each ritual. 
Fellow MFA students also participated in the performances during class critiques,  and then gave their feedback on the implications. I documented two years of my personal and public activities and compiled them into a final video.
Alongside this practice, I continued with the pursuit of science as an art topic. I attempted to get the viewer to experience the microcosm and macrocosm of my crystal glaze landscapes. I presented this content using magnifying light boxes and color photo transparency wall lights. All had the theme that this object, presented in a different context,  could be from another planet. I printed black and white  details of my sculptures and enlarged them to 12 feet wide at human height. These were most convincing partly due to scale and  because they were easily identified as moonscapes.
(We still had little data from the rest of the Universe).

My final MFA installation was entitled "Science and Ceremony". I knew I had not perfectly unified the two approaches, but I showed all of the work together. This was a risk, because one project or the other stood strong, while the two intertwined was a far reach. I figured that graduate school was a portfolio of research and put it out there.  For myself, it was a record of all I believed in.

Because my work was prolific, unrefined,  and lacked a singular conceptual approach, I was not the standard picture of sucess in graduate school. I had a lot of supporters who were glad to see me chalkenge the status quo. Yet, I think they were glad that they weren't presenting such an outrageous display.  I'm still glad that I did Science and Ceremony. It was great training for large installation challenges to come.

I was not a "normal" MFA student. People didn't know if I was just interested in "spiritual stuff"  or if there was more to what I was saying. The way I stayed engaged in gradschool was through my ability to comprehend the required reading, discuss it, and use it effectively in critiques. I relied heavily on my understanding of art history and philosophy to remain envigorated. In fact, I enjoyed that so thoroughly, I never understood why my art had little reflection of my critical skills.

Ironically, I was the only one in my class to get a University teaching job. Be it noted that this was not due to all of my artistic extravagance. My professor had a contact at the job and they loved my crystalline glazes. The same work I made before graduate school was the main thing that captivated my employer and reflected professional skill. What did this say about my future?
Was my best work done at age 21, forever behind me? I still wonder...

It is important to note, that in the mid 1990's the union of art and science had not been popularized. Certainly in NYC art circles, it was far out. Not conceptual enough. Too heavily based in process. Contemporary art did not revistit an interest in materials until I  had a solo show in NY, 2002. By then, I was tired of trying to convince people that it was a valid topic.

It was at that teaching job that I had access to their glass blowing department. This was a natural next step I always wanted to take.
The only time I had blown was as a ceramics student.
After midnight, in 1989 at Penland,  some nice blowers let me make a cup with a small aqua murini pick-up. It was 1995 before I took my next gather.

I went straight for combining ceramic glazes with the hot glass. I frequently blew alone, due to not having enough time to assist and handle a full 5/4 teaching load while heading the ceramics department. Friday nights were my time, and I don't know how I surmised the energy.  The fire burned in me as I slept, dreaming of the experiments I had done that day. There was no stopping this.

I had a two year contract with an option to renew as head of glass and ceramics. (I could teach basic blowing, but there were certainly better
more deserving blowers).
When I teach, I dedicate myself fully to each student. I knew that I would not be satisfied with my performance as a teacher if I were to take sufficient time in art making.  I was not willing to relax my teaching standard in order to balance the two. I chose my artwork, at the cost of good career placement. I knew this was really crazy, throwing away the precise professional position that I would need to make it in art. It was a tough decision.

In summer of 1997, I moved back to my family homestead with a vague plan to open a glass blowing school that engendered the union of art and science. A series of fateful events allowed me to build the equipment and open for classes in the fall of 1998. I named the studio Resnik Thermal Lab. "Resnik", my last name at the time, "Thermal" for hot glass, and "Lab" implied scientific research.

In 2000, I became a visiting scholar at the UNC Chapel Hill Materials Science department. Thereafter followed a series of geochemical projects funded by the National Science Foundation.
The year 2000 marked a time when the concept of art and science was well-respected by the field of Science and still not as popular in the Arts. When I exhibited in Art and Science shows, I found that most of the art was made by scientists who were using their research material to make visual art. Many projects were illustrative, mapping, theoretical, and biological. Material Science as a topic was still a rarity.

For the years that followed, I either spoke to people who were in total agreement with my theories or to audiences that thought I was just coming up with an "angle". Many of my words fell on deaf ears, while those who appreciated my work, did not need to hear more.

In 2001, I went to a GAS conference at Corning, and informally discussed my use of ceramic reactions in hot glass.  William Gudenrath and Henry Halem, who I already knew, were the most interested in my work. However, no leads came from that conference. I donated a piece to the silent auction. It was a small assemblage of blown glass combined hot with ceramic glazes in an installed landscape format, entitled "Geode's Birthplace".
This piece was odd, especially displayed next to cobalt earrings and stained glass flowers, along with a few traditional studio art pieces. I was so naive and excited... I ran into Jack Wax, who I knew from Penland 1989, and said:
"I have a really unusual piece on the table, I hope you check it out!".
This piece received zero bids. No one would take it home for free.

I later donated it to the hotel used by Corning students. It was on display for a few years. In 2004,  Ceramics Monthly requested that I rephotograph it for their feature article, which would include a lot of my glass. The piece was gone. The hotel director of the display cabinet left the job and "cleaned out the case"...He was untraceable. Did he even exist? Did he throw it in the dumpster? Did he even like the piece? Was it ever displayed?

Still, it was a lucky event because it caused me to remake "Geode's Birthplace" which is now one of those pieces that I wonder if I will ever eclipse. The first version had everything in it that I would show today. But now, it might be acceptable in terms of content. The whole science and art question is no longer.  Combining outside materials with glass is standard.

The final chapter of this particular epic occured in summer of 2013. Since 2005, I had been making works that I referred to as "other planets."  I had this notion that there was a planet somewhere that had chemical reactions and materials similar to those used in my studio.

In 1996, I encapsulated ceramic salts in hot glass to create gas pressure that blows a metallic sphere. As the years passed, I started casting these into blown forms just before placing them in the annealer. I imagined these were crater lakes coated in sandy chemicals filled with glass that had salt raining from the sky. More glass was raining down to make the salt bubble. (My fantasy of what this work was doing extends way beyond the appearance of the pieces themselves.) Nonetheless, I called the current series "Thermal Storms".

My husband informed me that NASA had just discovered a planet that rained glass!  As I studied further, I found that my processes were very close to this Azure planet's atmospheric behavior.
I wasn't that far off after all...I had an upcoming solo show that I retitled,
"Unfound: the Glass Rains of Planet Azure".

I tell this story to any of you who wonder if the topics I encountered in the early 1990's ever took hold. I just saw a notice that RISD now teaches topics in the use of chemical science in art.

There has certainly been more funding available in the sciences. I even had a "crazy rich guy" offer to send me on his private flight into outterspace where I could conduct my experiments in an anti-gravity environment.
(After his spaceship was built).  I still would love to design such sn experiment, but I cannot say that the experiment itself is conclusively art.

Even though I have an interest in a post-or pre-human dialogue, I am still responsible for how I contextualize the processes of material science. Process and material alone may be a form of art for some, but that is not where my art ends. It is a means to a greater end. I still recognize that my current audience is human, and I value what my work means to them.

In my most recent show, the curator had not seen the work in person.
When she finally did, she gasped lightly and said "its just so breathtaking". I noticed a glow coming from the installation that does not translate in photos. After all of her theoretical words about other art in the show, all she said about mine was that "you sense this is a whole landscape from some other place. It works all together, but if you rest at any one point you find a microscopic world that is mesmerizing." She commented that it was easy to understand because my title, Otherworldy Specimens, was "quite literal".
I had not added a poetic or humanitarian slant. Does my straight foward simplicity make it less valuable as art? With my analytic mind, one might think I would have come up with something deeper.
But my intent is honest.

Some of my titles do allude to a narrative between the works, worlds, or in my personal life. However, I do not see that as a requirement. After all that I have just writren,  I am thinking that the true narrative is in the realism and fantasy of material science.
Without the distraction of validity,  I want to make new, (and hopefully better) work, regardless.
I have persisted all these years in the midst of criticism and disbelief. I require improvement in presenting my narrative,  but not in my core position.

I now see that much science has already infilterated art through parallel evolution. The efforts of others like myself have reached the next generation. Perhaps their road will be easier, likely with its own trials.

Thank you for reading,

Best,
Sally Resnik Rockriver
Alternative Critique. March 31 2014

Beyond The Annealer: Education

When I unload work from the annealer, I hear a nearby sigh "it's beautiful"...
I cringe lightly and reply,
"it's not done yet, it still has to be put into context."
I then sense a little confusion. Why am I taking it to another level?
I realize now, that its all an educational process.
What I have learned on my own, is now evolving around me,
while many start to grow just as I did.
I am meant to encourage students to take their ideas beyond the bench.
I have wondered why some classes take the work
no farther than the annealer?
I think this is changing now, but when I started out in glass,
the main thing people talked about was grinding bottoms.
Honestly, I never did grind, and now I understand why.
I guide the potential of glass and its reaction to chemistry.
At the time, I was more than a minority; I was not understood.
When I took glassblowing classes at some of the big name schools,
I encountered a cultural phenomena.
The blowers were making big vases and didn't want to talk about art.
Most instructors just came in, did the demo, and left.
There was no "critique" of our work.
And there was no fundamental critical agenda.
Perhaps I took the wrong classes...
During those classes, I was bit of an outcast.
I had things to do, ideas to flush out, and I wasn't making work that looked like everyone else's.
I took the technical material and applied my own artistic vision.
I did not stop at imitation.
Fortunately, I had a studio to go home to and dive deep into my philisophy.
I was not prepared to invest in another course...
Thankfully, I got a scholarship to study with a great teacher.
She addressed concept and held regular critiques.
The only drawback was that the students did not want to deal with this.
The instructor had no means to ensure that partners work together,
and only a handful of us worked the class concepts.

Thereafter, I attended another class.
I got a great education in hot glass sculpting. 
Still, I found the same old cultural phenomena.
The weekends were reserved for heavy drinking.
In order to use maximum bench time,
I recruited a partner from outside the class.
I was lucky the school let me do it.

This was when I promised myself
that if ever have a chance to teach in this type of program,
I would give my students what I wish had been given to me.

Years later, the Ox-bow School of Art called me up to ask if I would teach.
I told them they must have the wrong person. Firstly, if I teach intro students,
I will tarnish their approach to glass.
(Kirk Mangus, my first clay teacher, used to insist we learn to throw off-center.
It made us more skilled, but it was pretty shocking when he slapped his pots in the middle of centering them.
This kind of fearless teaching is what I meant and wasn't sure anyone in glass wanted that.)
Secondly, my work was not respected by the
standard glass world. The only place that will show it is a painting gallery.
The director said: "I have been interested in your work and have watched your progress over the years,
We want you to teach what you do. Teach your most radical processes!"
From there, I explained that teaching what I do would be fun. However,  the most important thing
to teach is how I think about glass and its relationship to art. How did I come to do what I do?
What drives the work?

I wanted to help the students express their core art concepts glass.
I told the director, that for the class to be good, it would have to be a sculpture class that used outside materials.
I would give daily demonstrations of unique techniques and spend the rest of the time helping the students.
We decided that it was a big undertaking and they offered to pay for a second instructor!

The course entitled "Beyond the Limits" was team taught with the assistance of David Schaeffer.
David was a perfect opposite for my style. He had been a technical teacher at my studio for years.
His MFA in sculpture and additional MFA in glass (from Carbondale),
made him well versed in conceptual art as well as skilled in many media.
I was able to cover the kiln casting and other glass techniques in addition to straight blowing.
My demos were all glass blowing with added approaches.
I handled the student meetings, while he helped students make their blown work.
I also worked very hard on balanced partnering and various schedules so that we blew all the time.
Kilns were also scheduled for casting.

I sent students a questionaire prior to class. This uncovered their basic art views and goals.
More questions aided in gathering source material for projects.
All students were asked to bring non-glass materials to the class.
I conducted daily talks with each student, until they were too busy!
We held periodic group critiques.
Students were encouraged to do whatever they had to, in order to realize their goal.
The final works were presented as an exhibition.

What did they get from my demos? They saw how I handled glass.
Before each demo, I told them every step required in the upcoming pieces.
The realized that you must have a plan and know how to execute it.
We covered the difference between listening, fighting it, and losing control.
Students had so many approaches, that each one had to
troubleshoot and problem solve for their individual project.
They had to design a technique that would work for their idea.
Many walked away knowing that they could do whatever the wanted to, with much practice.
Over all, there was an attitude of grounded excitement and fearless freedom.
We all realized that the possibilities are endless.

The work that resulted from this class was truly "Beyond the Limits".
Each student made work uniquely different from each other.
The common threads:
1. Works had a conceptual basis
2. Techniques were used specifically to get at an idea.
3. Most pieces needed to be installed.
4. All works incorporated outside materials.

I am so glad to have taught this class.
Now, with the winds of Glass Secessionism blowing around,
I believe that this course was Secessionist by default.
The interesting part is that an Art School with a small glass program invited me,
rather than a craft school with a big glass program.

Just the other day, my assistant from that class told me something I was unaware of...
The studio facilities technician in our Ox-bow class
marketed a very similar class to Penland the following year.
(I do not know if he attributes his proposal to my class.)
They agreed to offer the course, and some of you may have taken it.
I must have been part of something bigger,  without realizing it.
We can expect to see more classes like this in the future.

If your program offers one, please contribute to this blog.
Leave comments on classes/schools that operate in this vein.