In my last year of highschool, I dreamt of a woman rising out of the water, skin clear as crystal, locks like waves and eyes just on the verge of opening, with a warm, soft radiance coming from inside. It was a glass sculpture of Rebirth. This was back in 2010. I still dream about it.
I love using glass because it reflects me the most. It’s an incredibly temperamental mistress. When it burns, it glows a deadly orange and you can try to shape it as best as you can, but without years of struggle, you can’t hope to temper it. And even with years of experience, sometimes it’ll still crack your mold and destroy your kiln. The stress starts the moment you decide to become an artist, it increases when you start a project or set a deadline for an exhibition, but nothing really compares to when you’ve put something in the kiln. Nothing.
When the glass is cold and you’re slaving away at it, the slightest bump can chip off a few hours of work, and when it breaks the edge is so sharp it cuts not just your skin, it cuts into your mentality, drives you insane for wasting hours of work. It’s a constant tightrope walk with chance as your balance, and you can’t afford the slightest bit of carelessness.
But even with all the frustration and stress, I still love working with glass and its various shades of transparency. The game of chance is worth it for that magical moment when you break a mold open to unearth what’s inside. Despite all the risks and odds against you, it’s worth it every time when one work comes out just right. Just one.
I decided to make this blog because I wanted to share my experiences with those who like my work, those who are curious, those who aspire to become an artist themselves. I wanted to share my failures and triumphs, my pain and my happiness, my tears and my growth. Maybe one day my work might even inspire someone to start their own journey.