kiln carving
So, kiln carving, for those who asked, all one of you. I didn’t pick a very good project to illustrate it. Here are my soap dishes:
This glass wasn’t made for fusing, so it devitrified a lot. The fiber paper stuck to it quite badly. I had to get out the so-called dental tools I use for poking at hot glass beads, though I gotta say if any dentist came at me with tools like that I’d run screaming. Still, they worked well for scraping at glass, same as teeth. Generally, these dishes came out looking like somebody had (quite sloppily) cut various shapes of glass and stacked them up. Which you can’t really do, not in this way, but that’s what it looks like. I don’t have any cold working tools so they are crude and wavy…but hey, I love them anyway. They’re my kindergarten projects. I guess I should give them to my parents, right?
Where kiln carving begins to shine is when you use transparent glass. For this set I had in mind some complex snowflakes, but fortunately I talked myself into simplifying for the first attempt:
They completely swallowed their little wire hangers, for one thing. The first one has a wicked sharp edge on it. I thought it might, so I console myself with the thought that I’m beginning to understand what is likely to happen. You could shave with that edge, I promise you. The second one, created in reverse fashion, is well rounded.
Glass is liquid, behind our backs, in the heat, hidden from view. You can’t make it do things. You can align what you want it to do with what it wants to do. I will never reach the end of learning how to do that.
parietal workout
I’ve got glass in the kiln. I have some kiln carving projects in mind for Christmas, don’t know much about it, so I will label this project an experiment.
Kiln carving really has little to do with carving and is not actively manipulated in the kiln—who names these things? It is a relief technique, related to slumping, but instead of letting the glass sag into a ceramic or steel mold, you provide shaping with fiber paper or other layers and lay the glass on top, and it fills in the spaces you’ve carved or cut into your layers.
If your brain, like mine, doesn’t work well spatially, it’s tough! I have a mystery piece of glass from the craft store which means I can’t fuse it to anything but itself, so I cut it up and set my sights on a fiber paper soap dish. (Let’s face it, I’m a craftsman, not an artist.) Had a plan all worked up until I realized it was bass-akwards. You can’t build up edges or ridges down the center and have the glass respect your wishes. The top layer is going to be smooth and flat regardless. It’s the underneath that takes the shape, and that means if you want taller elements, you remove fiber rather than piling it on, so the glass can sag deeper. I can actually feel stretched-out brain cells, but I think I got all the layers arranged. I know there are plenty of people to whom this would be a no-brainer. And you don’t care about glass, and I’m a neophyte…but too bad. Who else am I going to talk to?
The kiln tells all and exposes all flaws. I’ll know more tomorrow.
Rx: glass
I’m bushwhacking. Cutting my way through, chopping at the giant weeds that have sprung up, shaking off the moss, getting an encouraging glimpse at the sky now and then, even if it is balanced by the occasional boot full of mud. Sucking swamp mud. Lo and behold, a clear space ahead…why, it’s my blog! Poor old abandoned ruin. The blog, or maybe even me. Take your pick.
It happens over and over in my life: a kind of paralysis, anxiety run amok, a demand to know how it will all turn out before I even start. This is not conducive to anything, really, so instead I do nothing. For a long time. Sinking under the pressure. That swamp mud is vile, sticky stuff.
I escape the same way every time: one project, no thinking, just doing. Then another. Then another. I know I’m on the way back today. I’ve sewed the first approximation of some Christmas gifts. Mopped the kitchen floor. Went to the craft store. And then I cut glass. (It cut me back, but that’s only fair.) Played with all my new supplies, some fiber paper, Thinfire paper, circle cutter. Got some kiln-carving experiments in the kiln ramping down as I type. So surely the worst is over.
Thinking is still causing me some trouble. I believe I need more color and design, less verbal expression. Which is odd, because my talents have always been the other way around. But I was curiously happy just resting my eyes on a pile of bright transparent turquoise shards today. If they weren’t so sharp, I’d carry them around with me.
Hmm. Well, there’s beads. Duh. Bright transparent turquoise beads might do the trick. And I need more projects.
interval developments
I ain’t dead. Yet. Haven’t even had the flu. Yet. And gosh I’ve missed me.
In the interim, fall has befallen. Befell? That’s a big deal here in Texas. Also, it’s raining again. Not right now, I mean, but in general. That’s another big deal.
In blog news, I’m thrilled to have been cited as an authority on the Finnish bathroom. Also I’ve attracted surprisingly high traffic searching on rubber boots, via the Nokia shot a few posts back. Must have strayed into fetish territory accidentally. Who knew?
Been to Arizona, yay, and not incidentally my 30-year high school reunion, wtf! Least said soonest mended, but I suppose I’ll have more to say about that. Fodder for several posts, really, though I’ll try to repress all the memories as soon as possible. There was one friend I wanted to reconnect with, and that part was delightful.
And then this: glass class. Fusing this time. These are kindergarten projects…more to come:
iridescent plans
Now I’m scared. I’m just home from a buying binge in Austin…daughter Shan’s wedding reception/party is coming up and I need a dress, so I headed for Silk Road in Austin, which is the only fabric store truly worth its pins around here, and now I have six, lord help me, six yards of dupioni to cut into. I actually invented this fabric for a fictional character a while back, a peacock blue silk shimmering with purple overtones–or undertones, or whatever you call that shimmery thing dupioni does–and there it was in the store, fated to be my dress. If I don’t blow it. And I cannot afford to blow it. Shan keeps reminding me it’s a casual event, and the dress pattern itself is casual. The celebration is in the fabric.
Then on to Blue Moon to buy glass for our next fusing class project and it was all the same scheme, peacock dichro and irid on black, shimmery and shiny and food enough for my glass hunger for one week. No, never enough. But sufficient unto the day is the credit card damage thereof.
insert pics here
Good motel room coffee. Ever hear of such a thing? It’s not fabulous coffee, but it’s fine. That’s because, or so I presume, I’m in Oregon.
I stayed overnight in Yachats, on the coast. I love this place. It’s a motel opening up right on the rocks and the surf. Not luxury accommodations, but, as it turns out, sharing the beach and many of the amenities of the luxury spa place next door, thus adding the satisfaction of a good bargain to all its natural blandishments. There’s a trail running along the shore that goes on for miles and has been used for at least 1000 years, so they say. I left the window open last night and woke up a few times, kept thinking I was hearing the “natural surf” sound from my gradual alarm clock at home…but it’s the real thing: ceaseless respiration of the planet, against which my cares are grains of sand.
And even better, I am blessed to have family homes open to me, so this solo piece of my trip is only for one night. Just about enough to be therapeutic instead of lonely.
I’ve dropped most of my original plans to see a lot while I’m out here. Instead, just soaking up wherever I am. I did the three capes loop yesterday, driving down the coast from Portland, and then pretty much ran out of steam, slept forever, will walk here and take pictures until they kick me out at 11.
It’s glass heaven up here in the northwest. Yesterday I drove past two blow-your-own studios. There’s actually a lampwork store here in this tiny town, and an art gallery heavy on glass. I’ll check them out, then move on to Cape Perpetua, then down to Coos Bay. And then I’ll turn back into a social animal again. Right now, I’m a silent creature on the beach. Let’s be honest: a crab. I like it that way. As long as there’s good coffee.
you will get burned
You will get cut. You will get burned. If this troubles you, take painting lessons.
That’s my favorite warm-glass t-shirt. But this week it’s too hot to melt glass. Or shall I embrace the obvious hyperbole: it’s almost hot enough outside to melt glass. It’s definitely too hot to sit in front of a torch. The kiln can soldier on, though–it’s not going to make the garage perceptibly warmer. I’m still on bottles, although I’ve overcooked a few in my zeal. It’s nice being able to experiment on free trash. I bought a couple of casting molds too, and some mica powder to play with. Glass crushing is to become my next skill. Seems easier than precision cutting, whereat I have not yet arrived.
Everything outside is getting burned just sitting there. We’re breaking all kinds of heat records this week. We’re on stage 2 water restrictions, and I continue to indulge murderous fantasies directed at my lawn and so-called landscaping. I’m thinking a nice rock garden for next year…for growing rocks. They don’t drink much.
Creatures are suffering and on the move looking for water. T and Milo even saw a porcupine the other day. Milo was on a leash or we’d have a disaster story to tell. The chickens are quite put out and wait impatiently for noon every day when I let them out of the hot chicken yard into the hot backyard, where there is at least a little green shade left to enjoy. Mojo, that most sensible old dog, wants to go outside only three times a day: once for dawn patrol, once to help me feed the chickens, and once for dinner in the evening. Otherwise he’s counting his blessings and his zzzzzz’s in air-conditioned bliss.
Scheduled trips to Portland and Finland sustain me. But Portland has Bullseye glass. Finland has Iittala. There’s no escaping this heat. Glass is always hotter than whatever else is happening.
sagging stuff
I guess everybody who gets a kiln slumps a few bottles. I don’t mind being one of the herd. Saggy bottles are neato. Everybody likes them. And they’re not entirely predictable, so there’s always that moment of great anticipation just before lifting the kiln lid.
The Martini & Rossi bottle that went out to Dad on Sunday: 
This is a vermouth bottle so it seemed right for an olive tray complete with little forks.
The blue one here is a Bombay Sapphire gin bottle. I’ve taken up collecting odd shapes. Can’t wait to see what happens to the boot:
So thanks, littering douchehounds who drive through my neighborhood on Saturday nights. I’ll take your empty beer bottles and use them for general niftiness.
You can keep those used condoms, though. They’ll never sell on Etsy.
creation is messy–and expensive
The most wonderful money pit yet…and the studio is alive with new possibility. Elphaba, Dirty Martini, Leaky Pen, periwinkle, eggplant, along with white, black, various other greens and violets, comprise my new palette. So my advanced beginner beads will begin to emerge in purples and greens. And I still need a wonderful pink, but I’m not sure I can afford one.
You need gold to achieve pink glass, I hear. I’m not clear on what you you need for CIM Heffalump or Dirty Martini or Kryptonite, but I sure love the color names.
I took a class this past weekend and came home with a bulk tank adapter for my hothead, too. Endless gas — no, really, it’s a good thing!
clearly better
I’m retiring from Envirotex. Tired of the stuff. My last two cigar boxes were my best in every way except that the resin set up with a haze, leaving me thoroughly disgusted. I’m sure it’s mostly user error, but still. And then there’s the toxic fumes issue.
Anyway, the real reason I began to use Envirotex is because it looks like glass. So…why not use glass instead? Particularly with a kiln sitting out there in the garage. Glass has its own set of hazards but I think they’re well understood.
I ordered a few glass tiles from Etsy to try something like scrabble tile pendants, only better, and they are.
What I really love about this project is the way the voice of the little plain glass tile has changed. When I ordered it, it was just a nifty smooth piece of glass. Now it speaks of fire polish and fiber paper. Now it speaks of ramp time, heat soak and annealing.
Now it says: I can do that. And then why not a cigar box top? In about five years I may have something beautiful to show off.
In the meantime, there’s that bottle there. It was a test of a slumping program. Now it’s a spoon rest. If I never get good at anything else, I can produce spoon rests. Spoon rests for all!
