Bringing together ideas, materials and style: Ohia Lehua panel

I have been lucky to travel to Hawaii a few times in my life, and one of my favorite parts of each trip was discovering the local plant life.  On a visit to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, I was especially intrigued by the Ohia Lehua trees, with their feathery red blossoms atop branches of densely overlapping leaves.  I knew I should design a stained glass panel around them.

One of the elements of the tree that really caught my eye was the orderly way the leaves grew along each branch.  I wanted my design to be simple enough to highlight the near-symmetry of the plant, while still having it be recognizable.  Not surprisingly, this design philosophy led me directly to a composition reminiscent of the arts and crafts movement.  I have always appreciated design work that is able to play up a sense of botanical geometry, and I hope I’ve captured a bit of that here.

 

Ohia Lehua panel in progress on the bench

I thought the flowers would be best rendered as fused glass elements.  I created them using various thicknesses of red stringer (long threads of glass) layered and fused onto a clear background.  In the past, when I have planned to use fused pieces in a leaded window, I’ve found an approach that seems to work well:  My first step is to fully draw the cartoon as usual.  When I begin cutting the glass, I will cut only the fused pieces, making them just slightly larger than the pattern indicates.  After fusing, the edges will have generally rounded, which shrinks the shape slightly.  The volume of glass being fused will also have an effect on the end shape.  When I’m happy with the outcome of the fusing, I’ll place the pieces directly onto the cartoon and make any needed adjustments before proceeding as usual.

For the leaves, I knew the time had come to use a sheet of green ring mottle glass that I had been saving for just the right project.   Nearly every stained glass artist I’ve met has a stash of colors that they purchased on impulse, just for the sheer love of the color. I think I may have bought this piece around the years 1999-2000, and have only nibbled away at the corners so far, so it’s nice for it to have finally found a place.  With the mottled green shades and the spiky effect of the red stringer, a simple background seemed to be the best choice.

I’m really pleased with the finished piece!  I don’t know when my schedule and my budget might allow for another vacation to the islands, but in the meantime I’ll have a little bright spot of color to keep them in my daydreams.

Window Makeover: Repair and Redesign

Missing glass and lead damage to one of the three panels

Recently I took on a set of three windows from a local preparatory school.  When they arrived at my studio, over a dozen pieces of glass were missing, and the surrounding leads had been twisted and crushed.  For this kind of a restoration project, my priority was to retain as much of the original materials as possible, with the least amount of intervention required to make sound repairs.  First and foremost, the panels needed to be made whole again, but the alumni group sponsoring the repair wanted to add something special.  I made a few sketches based on their ideas, and we settled on adding an adaption of the school’s crest, featured prominently in the center panel.

 

This semicircle drafting template came in very handy during the drawing process.

Because all three panels were identical, I was able to swap some of the original glass pieces from one panel to another in order to replace some of the missing glass. I fully dismantled the center panel, and removed all of the original glass from the areas where the new crest would be placed.  With careful planning, both side panels were able to be restored using 100% original glass and lead.  Although the old lead had been mangled, it was still pliable and sound.  I was able to carefully smooth and straighten the damaged sections, and solder them back into place.  The center panel was rebuilt using new lead, and about 50% original glass, with new glass making up the crest and its surrounding background pieces.

The finished panel, previewed in my studio before re-installation at the school.

I sandblasted a piece of flash glass to create the white circular details in the crown.  Flash glass is comprised of two layers of color–in this case, blue over clear.  The surface layer can be masked and selectively etched away by sandblasting, acid etching, or with abrasive tools.  It’s an effective way to incorporate two colors of glass in a small, detailed way, without adding distracting, bulky lead lines.  The lettering and other imagery were painted and kiln fired using vitreous paints.

This was certainly an enjoyable project, and I hope that the students and faculty will enjoy it for many years to come!

 

 

On the Workbench: Repairing a Stained Glass Lampshade

This week I tackled a lamp repair. There were two major problems that needed to be addressed:  Many pieces of glass were broken and in danger of falling out, and the structural ring at the top had begun to separate from the rest of the lamp. There was evidence–in the form of big solder blobs–that someone had tried to repair the ring in the past, but the attempt did not hold up in the long run.  After reviewing the repairs, I also recommended that the client use cooler, lower-wattage bulbs in the future, as heat buildup can accelerate problems around the lamp cap.

My first step was to lightly clean the glass with a damp rag and a soft toothbrush, just enough to remove any filmy buildup on the glass without taking away any patina color from the solder lines. Cleaning makes the rest of the repair a little easier and more pleasant, and helps with matching replacement glass to the original.  The first few lampshades I ever repaired, years ago, had hung in a bar for decades, collecting cigarette smoke.  They were absolutely coated in nicotine residue, which made all the glass look two shades yellower, and would gum up the soldering iron if it wasn’t cleaned away.  Fortunately, most household lamps I’ve worked on–including the one in this post–have been generally well-kept, and just need a simple surface cleaning before getting started.

I picked a sheet of glass for the replacement pieces, keeping in mind that it needs to look right in both reflected and transmitted light; that is, it should match whether the lamp is lit or unlit.  The next step was to begin knocking out the broken pieces.  Several of them were splintered into small bits that had already begun to come loose.  These were easily removed by hand, wiggling out piece by piece.  Others, though broken, were held more firmly.  In order to remove them, I added one or two more score lines to the surface, forming an X shape, then tapped from the inside of the shade to loosen the pieces.  When the broken pieces had been removed, I taped a few of them back together to serve as templates, and then cut and foiled the new replacement pieces.

Before I could reinstall the pieces, I needed to clean up the spaces where the old glass had been.  I used my soldering iron and an x-acto knife to lift away the old foil, being careful to leave the foil on the adjoining pieces intact.  Once the old foil was out of the way, I had nice clean openings to work with, and could easily insert the new pieces.  They were soldered into place, and blended in nicely after getting some new patina.

With the body of the lamp stable, I was able to move on to fixing the ring.  On closer inspection, I discovered that as the ring had pulled away from the glass, it tore away most of the top layer of copper foil in the process.  The previous repair-person had simply tried to use a lot of solder to bridge the gap across the torn areas, and there just wasn’t a strong enough bond to support the lamp’s weight.  In the end, the old repair only served to extend  the tearing further down the sides of the lamp.  It needed some serious intervention.  First, I completely removed the ring by melting away the old solder and inserting my knife blade into the gap little by little to preserve what remained of the original foil edge as I lifted the ring.  About 1/3 of the old foil was still in place and usable.  At this point, a shortcut would have been to run a single strip of foil around  the rest of the circumference, which would have covered the bare edge of glass and provided a soldering surface.  I didn’t do it this way, because I didn’t think it would provide enough strength to hold up in the long term.  A few of the pieces around the top were already loose, so I removed them, along with some others (a total of 11 pieces), refoiled them completely, and then soldered them back into place.   This way, I was able to add much-needed support without having to completely dismantle the top row of pieces or disturb unaffected areas of original solder.

Next, it was time to reattach the ring, securely soldering it into place on the interior and exterior edges.  Once the ring was back in place, I soldered on a few copper wires as reinforcement, spanning from the ring back down the interior of the lamp, following the solder lines.

As a final step, I  used the same thin wire to create subtle cover repairs (sometimes referred to as ‘dutchmen’) over a few pieces.  To keep the overall cost down, the client had opted to leave in a few of the more subtle, less precarious broken pieces.  Adding the cover wire on the interior side of the shade helps to stabilize them, and minimize any light leaks, without creating an obvious repair line on the viewing side.

Now it’s fully re-soldered, patinaed, and ready to go back home and be enjoyed!

New Designs: Current Stained Glass Work in Progress

After a few weeks of repair and restoration work, I was more than ready to switch gears again.  I find it really helpful to have a mix of old and new work in my lineup.  Although it sometimes can feel like a balancing act, I can divide my time between the technical and creative aspects of the work, and find myself less likely to feel like I’ve gotten into a rut.

New stuff on the wall over my drawing table!

When I’ve been away from designing for a bit, it’s good to use drawing as a warim-up exercise.  I’ve kept sketchbooks since I was a teenager, but they are mostly used for jotting down quick ideas, and keeping notes.  The idea that I had been toying with in my mind was for a few production designs.  I have an open studio event coming up, and I wanted to be able to make some simpler, smaller pieces to round out my display.  I took a  great webinar in late February on silkscreening on glass (taught by Tony Glander and offered by GlassArt magazine), and I’ve been eager to start trying it on my own.   I browsed through dozens of images of rose windows in gothic churches, and used them to come up with my own designs.

Gothic rose window drawings, made the old-fashioned way with a pencil, some basic drafting tools, and tracing paper.

I produced my first screen, and started printing, but the results were less than stellar.  Right now I’m going back over my notes from the webinar, and adjusting my technique, and as I improve the process (hopefully!) I’ll write a blog post about it.  In the meantime, here is a paper stencil overlaid on a piece of patterned glass–the look I’m hoping to achieve with glass paint!

Here’s a hand-cut paper stencil overlaid on patterned glass. I’m working on getting my silkscreen ones to look this crisp.

A really great, unexpected thing happened as I was drawing the rose windows.  I really love a good math-y drawing session, and I was having fun using my compass and protractor, so I kept going.  And the shapes of the tracery started to become repeating floral patterns.  And then I drew patterns for three stained glass panels.    (Actually, maybe it wasn’t so unexpected. After all, I was working outside on a beautiful sunny weekend, surrounded by newly-bloomed tulips and hyacinths.)  The next thing I know, I’ve got a small series in progress, along with the silkscreen project.  I’ve already cut patterns and begun cutting glass for the first of them.  Updates to come soon–I’m very motivated to see them finished!

Pattern pieces, cut and pinned in place for a new painted stained glass panel. I use the different pin colors to help me more quickly identify pieces that will be cut from the same sheet of glass.

Stained Glass Puttying: It’s a Dirty Job, but Someone’s Got to do It

I’m fresh from a day of puttying windows, and after being at it for hours, I’ve started to feel a bit philosophical about the whole ordeal. Before I had my own studio, I used to naively think, “Someday, when I make my own work schedule, I’ll always putty each panel as I build it, so I never have to get stuck with a full day of doing something I hate.”  Ha ha. It’s very easy to put off the messy work when no one is making you do it, and I certainly did that this time.  Almost all of the stained glass folks I’ve ever met have confessed their dislike for this crucial part of the glazing process.  The task is tedious, dirty, and more physically demanding than any of the other steps, but a leaded window simply isn’t complete until it has been puttied (or cemented, encapsulated, or mudded, depending on your preferred terminology).  Here is why:

1. Waterproofing.    Putty is pushed under the flanges of the lead came on the interior and exterior sides of the window, effectively sealing out any moisture that could seep through.  This prevents damage to the inside of the building, and also protects the interior surface of the window.  You can sometimes see telltale evidence of leaks on an old painted window, where the paint has deteriorated and scaly buildup has formed only in certain areas around the edges of the lead.

2. Structure.    Cured putty adds a much needed rigidity to a window.  The combination of putty and lead provides strength and flexibilty, similar to the concept of reinforced concrete:  a flexible metal combined with a brittle medium offers the best of both, and provides superior support. The finished panel will be stiffened, but retain a certain amount of give to allow for expansion and contraction. (As an important side note, portland cement should not be used in a stained glass putty; it is far too inflexible.)

3. Looks.    A proper putty job seals off any light that might catch in the wrong places, such as the refraction from a cut edge just under the lead flange.  Burnishing the panel at the end provides a lovely dark-polished finish to the lead lines, and gives a clean, shiny surface to the glass.

4. Protection.  The thin layer of oil imparted by the putty acts as a sealant to the lead surface, slowing down the oxidation process.  Just as wood furniture benefits from an oil treatment, so can lead.  I have seen older windows where temporary repairs have been made by adding cover leads (‘dutchman’ repairs) over breaks.  Although the repairs were much newer than the original window, they had oxidized and crumbled more than the old lead, likely in part to the repair leads never being puttied.

Here is a panel that has been sandblasted, creating a surface with a slight tooth that is likely to pick up dirt and oil during the putty process. To protect the sandblasted areas, I’ve covered them with blue painters’ tape and trimmed it away from the lead edges.

I realize now that I was spoiled for many years by getting to work in a studio where there was a definite hierarchy to task assignments.  Once I had paid my own dues as an apprentice, and moved up the ranks a bit, I was able to concentrate mostly on building windows, and leave all of the puttying to the new recruits.  Now that I’m working solo, I don’t have that option! Instead of “Chief Cook and Bottle Washer,” you could call me “Principal Designer and Window Puttier.”  As much as I would love to have an assistant to take over the unpleasant stuff, I still try to appreciate each task for what it’s worth.  So that means I’m back to the putty bench, and all of its trappings: dirty apron and caked-up gloves, respirator elastic getting tangled in my hair, and the inevitable itch on the end of my nose that only seems to happen when I’m in full safety gear with my hands covered in goop.  Perhaps one day I’ll be so successful that I won’t even need to make my own work anymore; I can scribble something on a piece of paper and my staff will produce a finished piece for me to sign. (I’m being a bit sarcastic here, but I do have a lot of opinions about the balance of work between designer and assistant.  Maybe a topic for a future blog post?)  In the meantime, I’m just trying to stay humble, and keep practicing and honing my craft.

The Evolution of a work in progress, Part 4: Finished!

Katharine Hodgkins Irises, photographed on March 21

After a winter of work, I’ve finally wrapped up the miniature iris project! Just as the final steps were coming together, the actual bulbs were beginning to poke up through the snow.  It was pretty disheartening to get 5 inches of snow on the first day of spring, but these little shoots (and the beginning of the thaw the next day) helped to boost my mood a bit! The flower petals had been finished, but I still had some things to resolve with the background pieces.  Specifically, I wanted them to be much darker.  I had originally intended to paint them with a matte of Reusche yellow-brown paint, but the yellow-brown color was brighter than I liked in reflected light.  It competed too much with the flowers, and I didn’t want to change the surface so drastically.  The transmitted color was nice, though, and added a little more warmth to the gray glass, so I matted the back side of the pieces instead of the front.  As a bonus, the front-and-back paint layers added more depth.

Gray glass with yellow-brown matting on the back side

With the final pieces fired, it was time to start building. I used a combination of lead sizes to accentuate the clustered, overlapping effect of the flowers.  When I had soldered the first side, I put it up for viewing.  Even at this late stage, and after countless views on the lightbox to check the colors, I still wanted to make changes.

Beginning to assemble the stained glass panel with lead cames (channels)

The background was still lighter and grayer than I wanted it to be.

To create more contrast, I cut plates of sienna brown glass to go behind each of the background pieces, and then set about applying them one by one.  It was a very labor intensive step, especially coming at the end of a project that I just wanted to finish!

But the plating gave me exactly what I was hoping for–a richer, darker background that contrasted nicely with the flowers.

In a few weeks, I’ll be shipping this panel off to Washington DC, where it will be in an exhibit entitled “American Glass Now: 2015” showing at the National Cathedral from May 1-July 31, 2015.  I’m very excited to be included in this show, and I can’t wait to see some amazing work from the other artists who were selected!

On a final note, I had a joyful moment last night when I returned home from the studio to find this little beauty, the first one to bloom:

Nature may have given me a slight reprieve (everything is blooming later than usual this year), but I still was able to finish my miniature iris stained glass panel in time for the real ones to appear!

Rebuilding a Deteriorated Stained Glass Panel

This week I’ve had a repair project that was in very dire need of work.

Many pieces of glass were completely missing, along with a good portion of the perimeter lead that would hold everything together.  There were broken pieces among the existing glass,

a lot of crusty build-up along the edges (likely caused by moisture and dirt seeping through over the years),

and fragile lead that had begun to crack apart, not just at the solder joints, but in the middle of straight runs too.  In fact, the whole thing was so deteriorated that it couldn’t be held upright without falling apart.

I began by making a rubbing of the panel with a crayon on kraft paper.  Even though there had been some distortion as the leads broke and separated, this step still provided me with a starting point for rebuilding, and was useful for keeping track of all the pieces as the window was dismantled.  I also had access to the original wood frame, so I could make an accurate template for the shape.  Between the template and the rubbing, it’s not too hard to get a window exactly the size it needs to be.

The old lead was so weakened that I didn’t even need tools to separate it from the pieces of glass; it literally snapped apart wherever I pulled on it.  The next step was to clean the glass in water with a tiny bit of mild liquid soap (Ivory liquid works well).  While I was at it, I also cleaned the pile of scrap glass provided by the client to be used for repairs.

Here are some of the scraps.  The glass comes from an older building that is being rehabbed on a tight budget.  I am trying to be mindful of both the needs of the project, and the ethics of my own work.  This is obviously not getting the same treatment as a museum-level restoration, but I still want to maintain a high level of craftsmanship.  When historical repairs, restoration, or conservation work is taken on, there should be some sense of a Hippocratic Oath for glass ( ‘do no harm’ comes to mind right away).

Here is the window being rebuilt, with all new lead.  The missing sections were filled in using the salvaged glass that came from the original building.  Sometimes when there has been extensive damage across a series of windows, it makes sense to sacrifice one (or more) of the worst to use for parts.  Depending on the needs of the project, the eliminated old windows might be replaced with new stained glass to mimic the look of the old, or simply replaced with new clear glass window units.   

Here is the releaded panel, shown just before soldering.  To keep within the budget, I made a few concessions that would not generally be done on a more involved restoration project.  First of all, although all the replacement glass comes from the original building, it was not available in the full range of colors that were needed.  That is the reason for the paler amber piece in the center.  Secondly, I used lead from my existing stock, rather than ordering a special profile that would have perfectly matched the original.  The width of the lead face is the same as the old, but it is a round profile where the original was flat.  This may not seem like a huge difference, but in the past I’ve worked on restoration projects with such strict specs that a new lead that was two hundredths of an inch (that’s 0.02″!)  wider than the original was unacceptable.  When the money–and the desire–exists, custom dies can be produced to match the original in every measurement and shape.  In many everyday situations, though, that simply isn’t a viable option.  Thirdly, I used through leads to manage the broken pieces.  This is also a sensible choice, considering both budget and restoration standards.  If a new lead can be added where there is a break, without removing extra glass, it’s the fastest, easiest way to make the window whole and sound, without taking away any of the original glass.  The only downside is the relatively noticeable addition of an extra line, but when it is used in a narrow border as in this window, it can still look fairly subtle. Other repair options would include copper foiling the broken sections together, or using a conservation-grade epoxy.  Both methods are more time consuming than using a through lead, and in this case would not have provided a huge advantage visually.  What is also important about all of these repair methods is that they can be reversed, if better repair techniques are available in the future.

Just out of curiosity, I pulled some color samples (front row, with labels) out of one of my glass sample sets, to see how closely I might be able to match the range of olive greens.  I’d say that’s not too shabby!  The only problem is that this particular type of glass is so expensive that a sheet of it costs about the same as this entire project, start to finish.  <sigh>  I’ll keep an eye out for more inexpensive glass in these same colors, but it simply may not exist.  In the end, though this project had certain limitations, I was still able to produce a sound, sturdy panel, sized perfectly for its opening, and ready to take on many decades of new life.

The rebuilt panel, back in its frame.

The Evolution of a Work in Progress, Part 3

Medium density background.

The miniature irises are now officially the most heavily painted piece I’ve ever made, and there is still more to be done! Picking up from where I left off on the ‘part 2’ post, I decided that my next step should be to completely paint out the negative spaces between the flower petals.  I had originally painted in a medium-density matte, but ended up wanting more contrast to make the flowers pop.

Darkened background and first stage of matting with blue paint.

I was much happier with the contrast after the backgrounds had been filled in, and went on to the next step of applying the first matte layer of blue paint, and adding highlights to the petals.  I’ve only used blue stainers’ paint on the petals (no brown or black as would normally be used) to keep the shading more subtle and soft, and to enhance the blue of the glass.  After the first firing, I thought that the petals could use a little more concentrated color in some spots, so I went back over them to add a blue stripe to the outer petals.

Here is the added blue–It makes quite a difference in the overall effect!  Also, you’ll notice that I like to keep my prepared paint in a little cordial stemmed glass.  I’ve found that its tapered shape is great for mixing and holding small quantities of thicker paint for tracing with a pen or a very fine paintbrush.

My next step was to use silver stain to add a yellow highlight to the petals.  Silver stain is applied like a paint, although it doesn’t work the same way as a regular glass paint.  Particles of silver oxide are suspended in a clay-colored medium called gamboge, which is painted onto the glass surface.  When fired, the kiln’s heat causes a chemical reaction between the glass and the silver, and the glass takes on a yellow “stain” without a physical layer of paint being adhered to its surface.  After firing, the gamboge is wiped away, but the color remains.  I tried a few varieties of stain on my test pieces, and then started applying it to all of the petals.

Here’s a look at the silver stain before firing. Its dark, opaque look will become a transparent yellow after it comes out of the kiln and has had the gamboge cleaned away.

Voila–the fired silver stain.  I’ll admit, it’s a bit lighter than I had wanted, so I’ll probably be going back over a lot of the pieces to brighten it up to where I’d like it to be. My biggest goal as a glass painter is to get things right the first time.  I’m not quite there yet, but I can usually accomplish what I want eventually. In the case of a project like this one, I’ve sacrificed efficiency for appearances. I’d like to think that one day I don’t have to choose between one or the other!   In the meantime, though, I feel like it’s getting very close to the end of the painting stage for this piece.  The last photo I have to add is the changes I’ve made to to background.  In the part 2 post, I had applied the texture of dried leaves by using propylene glycol paint and rubber tools.  This time around, I’ve added a roughly-painted dark matte where the ground pieces meet the edges of the flower pieces.

You can see the difference in this photo.  On the left, the edges of the ground and the spaces between the petals have been darkened.  On the right, everything is still just a single matte, without much contrast.

I’m glad that the painting is winding down now, and I’m looking forward to finally gettting to lead this panel together.  Thanks to our lingering winter weather, the irises in my garden are still under a layer of ice.  By the end of the day it will probably have melted enough for me to check their progress.  At any rate, I still have a shot at finishing the glass before the actual flowers have bloomed! My real deadline is March 30th, however, as I need to photograph the finished piece in time for an upcoming exhibition (more details on that to follow).  It might also be nice to step outside of the studio for a bit, and take some time to enjoy some much-needed warmer temperatures!

The Great Lead vs. Foil debate

I’m preparing to teach a beginners’ stained glass class soon, and it has gotten me thinking again about the choice of construction techniques for building a window:  Lead came (channel) or Copper Foil.  Each method has its advantages and disadvantages, and these should always be considered when planning a project.

Mitered leads create a smooth tapered line around curved pieces of glass.

Full disclosure, before I go any further, I need to admit that lead is, by far, my preferred method for glazing.  I love the clean, graphic look of a meticulously leaded window, and the work process is an enjoyable challenge.  Even after years of production work, making leaded windows day-in and day-out, I still relish this kind of bench work:  bending lead cames just so to hug the curves of a well-cut piece of glass, marking and mitering the ends of each piece to form delicate tapered joints or crisp right angles, soldering just enough to make them appear seamlessly smooth.

A leaded ornamental window in progress on the bench.

Detail of a leaded panel

Of course, the downside to using lead is that you have to putty it at the end.  It’s usually messy and tedious, and is my least favorite part of the process.  In spite of my dislike of the task of puttying, it’s a crucial part of the window’s functionality.  Putty  stabilizes the glass in the lead cames, helps to make the panel rigid, and creates a waterproof barrier  that makes the window suitable for an architectural setting.  A well-puttied window is made even more beautiful in the process.  As each piece of glass is puttied, its edges become sealed and opaque, which gives a sharper definition to the light coming through  Puttying also imparts a lovely dark burnished color to the leads, and protects them from oxidation by permeating them with a small amount of oil.  I am almost always willing to undergo the temporary annoyance of having to roll up my sleeves and putty a window in exchange for reaping the many aesthetic and structural benefits of lead work.

Copper foiled mosaic-style panel

So why, then, would I ever use copper foil, let alone teach a class around it?  The answer is simple.  There are several advantages to copper foil that lead just can’t match.  The first is versatility.  If I’m working with a concentrated area of tiny piece, it’s often much easier to foil and solder them together, rather than fumbling with tiny bits of lead came that refuse to stand up or stay in place as you build.  I can add a copper foiled section of detail to a leaded window, too, without compromising the overall look or structural integrity.  Copper foiling is also perfect for lampshades and other three-dimensional construction, because the pieces can be made to conform to the shape of a mold, rather than having to lay in a flat plane.  Most people are familiar with traditional art-nouveau style stained glass lamps, as popularized by Tiffany Studios, but modern artists are taking the idea in wonderful new directions.  I’ve just recently started using instagram (@avglassart) and through it I’ve discovered some amazing abstract copper-foiled three dimensional lamps and sculptures from artists around the world.

Tiffany Lamps from the Neustadt Collection

(On a side note here, it’s a HUGE pet peeve of mine when people refer to any stained glass lampshade as a Tiffany lamp.   Unless you know that the lamp was made by Tiffany studios, it should be called a Tiffany-Style lamp.  Calling all shades Tiffany lamps is like calling all cars Cadillacs, but I think many people don’t realize it!)

Not a Tiffany lamp.

The second reason for using foil is visual.   While leadlines are even and sturdy-looking, foil can create a delicate, almost sketch-like line.  A careful craftsman can make both straight, skinny lines and also deliberately uneven ones, to lend a more expressive effect.  There is a natural liveliness and movement to the line quality that is hard to duplicate in lead without a lot of extra manipulation.  Copper foiling also offers the opportunity to create a sculptural look with solder.  I’m working on a project right now that uses many different thicknesses of glass, and copper foil is helping me achieve the slightly rocky, mosaic-like surface that I’m going for.

The third reason, which is the key to my teaching choice, is the sheer accessibility of copper foiling.  It’s wonderfully simple for almost anyone to start doing as a hobby, with a minimal investment in tools.   In fact, aside from sheet glass, everything that you need to get started would fit in a shoebox.   An introductory class is enough for many people to get off the ground and running.  The basic method is easy to learn, and first projects can be completed in a short amount of time.  The other nice thing is that foil is very forgiving to beginners.  Even if your glass cutting skills are still on the rough side, you’ll still be likely to make something that works, although the solder lines may be a lot more uneven than you’d like.  Each project will look a little more refined as you gain more practice cutting glass, learning how to apply the foil smoothly, and running a nice even bead of solder.

This panel uses a combination of techniques. It is leaded, but the blue sections are copper foiled together and treated as if they were single pieces of glass when fitted into the leads.

Even though I tend to prefer lead, as I mentioned earlier, I still find that copper foil is an integral part of my work, and I enjoy using both methods in tandem sometimes.  It’s all about finding the perfect balance between structure and looks, and knowing what you want to make.

The Evolution of a work-in-progress, part 2

Hurray!  I’ve made it back to the lightbox for a bit more painting on the irises!

So far, I haven’t addressed the painting of the background pieces.  For a long time, I didn’t know how I was going to approach them, I only knew that I wanted the effect of dried leaves and twigs, to evoke the look of the ground in late winter.  Even without a plan in mind, I thought a good place to start was with a propylene glycol-mixed paint.

(For anyone who is unfamiliar with traditional stained glass painting, the paint comes as a powder and may be mixed with water, oil, or many other mediums depending on the effect desired.  Glass paint is vitreous, and will melt when fired in the kiln, and permanently fuse into the glass surface.) I was introduced to painting with propylene glycol in a workshop with glass painter Debora Coombs at the American Glass Guild conference in 2008.  (She also teaches this technique in a full-length class, which I hope to take someday.) When the paint is properly prepared, it behaves like an oil paint, heavy-bodied and slow to dry, but cleans up easily with water.  These properties are great for making expressive, textural effects, as well as very fine, very dense lines.

I remembered using various objects as stamps during the workshop, so my first idea was to ‘stamp’ with real leaves.  Unfortunately, the effect did not look like leaves at all; it was just a big smeary mess.  Next I tried applying paint to the surface and blotting it with a crumpled piece of paper, and then a plastic bag, but still couldn’t get the right look. Finally I decided to try rubber tools to push the paint around and make lines.   Success!  I dotted paint onto the glass surface and used the rubber tool to make quick cross-hatched lines through it.  The end result is a random pattern that evokes the look of crushed leaves, without fussing too much over the details.

Of course, because fussing over the details is something I absolutely love to do, here is a look at the progression of the iris petals, beginning with the veining and speckles, done with the calligraphy pen and propylene glycol paint.

After the veins and specks were fired, I applied a blue matte (mixed with water and gum arabic) over all of the pieces and began the tedious process of highlighting one at a time.  The nice thing about doing a grouping of the same flower is that you can apply a  formula to the process.  Even though each one is different, they have the same general markings.  Once I establish how to make the pattern, it just becomes a process of repeating it over and over, with small variations in shape and proportion.  I like to think of the flowers as siblings, all with the same DNA, but each one unique.

There is still much more painting to go on this project, let alone eventually leading, soldering, and puttying it.  I am still trying to meet my goal of having the painting done before the real flowers bloom outside, so it’s back to the lightbox again…