By Tina Pickett

(Reprinted from the Fall 1997 issue of Glass Gazette, now Contemporary Canadian Glass)

Thinking about Jeff Goodman’s studio, three things come to mind:  the grand opening of the showroom, the biannual New York Accent on Design trade show, and the attack of the killer garden hose.  These thoughts taken together make it clear to me that beauty can emerge from chaos.

Cover photo for Fall 1997 issue of Glass Gazette; “Gothic Cabinets,” Jeff Goodman, 1997, sand-cast glass, steel, bronze mesh, 12”x12”x72″

Jeff Goodman, Chris Pawluk, and I produce the work that emerges from the chaos that is Jeff Goodman Ltd.  Jeff is the artist and designer and the proprietor of this growing business.  Chris is the constructive metal man and is Jeff’s casting assistant.  I am the coldworker and glass-blowing assistant.  We are all responsible for cleaning, packing, invoicing, ordering new supplies, reorganizing, promotion, sales, and answering the phone.

It scares me when things are calm in the studio because it can only mean that a storm is about to break, and when it rains it always pours.  During the droughts you can never sleep, knowing that when chaos becomes ordered, order will soon enough become chaos.  When the storm does come we take it calmly, but we know that time is an unsympathetic enemy.  We won’t admit that to one another.  Instead, we respond to work overload by working in overdrive.  Racing time and winning by maintaining control, staying on top of things, anticipating Murphy’s Law and, when all else fails, calling in the troops.  Ah, life in a glass studio – who’d trade it?

I know Jeff wouldn’t.  His attitude and energy fuel the studio.  He is a Tasmanian devil.  Where chaos exists, he thrives.  He will routinely create matter in a vacuum.   His studio would not feel right in a state of order.  The fact that he works rather instinctively and is often hurrying to meet his wife Mercedes or daughter Zoe excuses the disorder that dogs his steps.  Chris and I have to laugh.  We roll our eyes as the door swings shut, and we begin to reassemble the studio.

Someone once said to me, “When you have a glass studio, you will have time for nothing else.  Forget marriage, forget family.  You are married to your studio.”  I don’t like that thought.  I believe that no matter what work one does, it should never take over one’s whole life.  So, when I began to work for Jeff, I was happy to discover that he shares these principles.  He makes it seem as though work is as satisfying as relaxation.  From his point of view, if you use every second available within the working day, it is possible to achieve your goals and have a little life left too.

The garden hose incident would be classified as an “on the other hand” scenario.  It was a case of chaos reasserting itself at 3 a.m.  Someone washing cullet had left the hose resting on the sink’s edge.  In the quiet of the night it fell to the floor and began to shower the studio.  Chaos in this case was 4,000 square feet of flooded studio to be cleaned at a time otherwise designated for “having a life”.

The three of us like to joke around.  I like to call Jeff “Good Man”.  I shorten most people’s names to something I feel suits them.  When a person comes into the studio looking for Jeff, I’ll ask Chris (or Chris will ask me), “Hey, have you seen the Good Man?” because a good man he is.

Typically, Chris will reply, “He was just here.”

I will scowl.  “Well, he was in the cold shop a minute ago.”

Jeff doesn’t know that Chris and I call him “The Good Man,” but I guess he will soon.  We have a book that holds the orders that we have to complete to keep the studio afloat.  Jeff will ask for the order book.  Chris will ask me, “Hey, have you seen the Good Book?”

“Torso Vases,” Jeff Goodman, blown glass, sandblasted, 18”x8”x4”

People say he’s a good man; that it’s a good studio to work in; that the work Jeff does is good and interesting; that the glory hole is good and big.  The bottom line is that we just can’t seem to get enough goodness around Jeff Goodman Ltd.

Sometimes we get good and tired.  Chris got good and tired of Jeff and me asking him where various things were.  At first it was a running joke.  “Ask Chris, he’ll know.”  Then it got to the point where not even Chris knew where things were – either that or he got tired of telling us.  Jeff and I are now discovering the joys of self-sufficiency.  “I found it!” one of us will exclaim.  “Where was it?” the other asks, curious, perturbed, and relieved.

The studio becomes a maze and creates its own secret hiding places.  It has the power to transform objects of specific purpose into objects of other specific purposes.  The cooler that was brought in for a cleaning is now a sink.  The bottom of the shop vac is now the block bucket.  A screwdriver is a chisel.  A chisel is a stir stick.  We believe in duality of function.

Organizing chaos is always a challenge.  “Okay, it’s time to reorganize,” one of us will announce.  We’ve changed the studio around about five times in three years.  The first time was fun.  We felt like kids rearranging our room; well, Jeff never really stopped being a kid.  Chris has started bolting things into place.

I remember a design teacher, Gernot Dick, saying, “When you design, you must have all your materials available in front of you.  You’ll never know which one will be right, but when it is you will ‘feel it’.”  Well, Jeff doesn’t work with the same tools Gernot does.  There could be any number of things necessary to get a job done, and any spot in the studio could be the appropriate area to start that new idea.  It’s good to see a madman at work.

At the time of the showroom opening, we had all gone a little mad.  This is a perfect example of having to call in the troops.  During this time of change, we were attending to our regular orders as well as a large commission.  The designers, Paul and Diego, were making changes and searching for the right colour.  Jeff, Chris, and I were working hard to keep up with their demands.  Five minutes before the opening, Jeff picked up the broom and swept the remaining pile of dirt into the compressor room.  Chris and I laughed.  We changed our clothes and were set for an evening of drinks, food, and music in our new display room.

It is Jeff’s spontaneity and desire to push each piece to its limit that both keeps us alive and sends us spiralling back into chaos.  It could also be his ability to formulate new ideas while others are still in progress.  Whatever the source, within the whirlwind, team structure allows the work to thrive.

The New York trade show we do twice a year is a perfect example of this compound-simultaneous-job-completion-team-effort.  The shows creep up on us gradually every time, then jump out of the dark and shout “boo!” when the deadlines are upon us.  We discuss the preparation for every show a year in advance, but it is not until that stressful last month that we finally find the time to make changes to the booth and produce new work.

So, often we use up our second wind, and end up running on our third wind, and then the fourth.  During preparation time for New York I feel as if I am calling out to the adrenaline in my body.  I look at Goodman and wonder what keeps him ticking.  I observe Chris and wonder how he taught himself to tap the cabinets with his eyes closed.  I’m amazed by their stamina as I look at the daily planner and to-do list.  It all looks great on paper, but I’m starting to believe that a schedule in a glass studio is an oxymoron.

Unloading the van after the New York trade show. From left to right, Chris Pawluk, Jeff Goodman, Tina Pickett

The funny part about going down to the trade show is loading the van.  I’m doubtful it will all fit, but time after time it does.  So what if the van is bing-bing-binging that the door is ajar?  We’ll just take out the fuse and carry on down the road to New York, arriving with just enough time to set up.

Taking things out of the van is a more involved and delicate process than putting them in.  Toronto to New York is a trip from the land of “Anything Goes” to the kingdom of “Follow the Rules,” and 50 seconds of grace is about all you get with the union crew.  These boys are big and bad, and they punctuate their sentences with words that will send you staggering backwards three steps at a time.

“What the hell is this, a Chinese puzzle?” one grizzles out.

“Ya ever heard of a cube van?” another says sarcastically.

“Careful with that please, it’s fragile!  Wait please, there is an order we should do this in!” I’ll say, interrupting the union men.

It’s even worse when the show is through.  Firmness is a definite necessity, even it comes out sounding a little Canadian …

“Now, really guys, there is a certain order we have to go by here, please,” I’ll say politely but seriously.  I’m not sure what Chris or Jeff say to them.  One way or another, it’s rush-rush-rush until the van doors are all closed.  So far, the record time is just under 15 minutes.

It’s fun to visit New York, but it’s also a lot of work.  We hope for the best each time we go; that we bring work that will capture the interest of established clients and that new ones will recognize Jeff’s vision and unique style.  We don’t have a sales team like they do at other booths.  Our pep talks are often about where the stapler, Windex, and postcards should be stashed, what’s on at the MOMA, when we are going to eat that day, van-loading strategy, and who will get which day off to enjoy the city.

I remember one time Goodman said to me, “Money’s not our enemy here, Pickett, time is!”  He doesn’t remember saying it, which doesn’t surprise me either because he always has a little too much on his mind.  I remember thinking at the time that money definitely can be our enemy!  Time and money, you can never get enough of either.  Learning to manage these devil is a challenge.

I once asked Jeff if he had a principle to follow when he opened his studio.  He said that someone had told him that “consistency makes you money.”  His response to that idea was that consistency would work against the studio.  He never takes a job just for the money.  To do so would drain our energy.  It would mean that the business had taken over the studio.  We would no longer be able to create one-of-a-kind pieces.  It is important to work on what develops and enhances the overall style of work.  Otherwise you become like a factory.

Detail from the cabinet, “Le soir dans la vitre,” Jeff Goodman, 1997, sand-cast glass, steel, bronze mesh, 84”x20”x20”

Out of chaos comes beauty.  Within the studio we maintain an energetic attitude that allows us to survive the deadlines of the New York shows, the SOFA show, private and public commissions, special events and the tax man.  Our attitude shapes the glass we produce as much as does any other factor.

When beauty reveals its ever-changing face, the right attitude will filter the interference and allow for clarity.  Clarity in a glass studio is pulled from the fire and shaped to the vision of the artist.  Jeff Goodman, surrounded by confusion, has perfect control in that regard.

Tina Pickett is a glass craftsperson who works for Jeff Goodman Ltd.

Compiled by: Christy Haldane

This article was inspired by a conversation with Celeste Scopelites, director of the Art Gallery of Peterborough. My daughter, Miller, was two and I was working on an outdoor installation for Artsweek in Peterborough. I was babbling about time, energy and getting the piece together.  She said to me, “You are learning how to be an artist all over again.” The comment stayed with me and I have thought about how my practice had changed since Miller was born.

I contacted other artists and asked for their stories. Their stories are inspiring; they are successfully balancing their careers while raising kids. They speak of exhaustion, sacrifice and the craziness of it all. Like Julie Gibb’s loan officer said, “People do have babies” and the stories below illustrate how to survive as a parent and artist.

Miller dancing on bubble pop

Jamie Gray:

I started out in glass before my children were born, 20 years ago now.  In the few years before they first arrived, glass art was a joyful pursuit.  After that, it was a salvation and happy escape from the drudgery that can be diapers and feeding schedules.  During the years when my daughters were youngest, (baby to teen) I would fit in art in snippets when and where I could.  The time I could spend always depended on what remained of my energy, since the needs of the children always necessarily had to come before my own needs, never mind my desires.  I also had to create a specific space in which the children couldn’t access because of the nature of glass (shards, slivers, powders, etc.), so that meant that I had a blocked-off corner of the basement, pretty much useless for anything else, designated as my workspace.

When I think of what it was like having small children around as I try to build a career as a glass artist, the one word that describes it all is “sacrifice”.  It was necessary to sacrifice money, energy and time, all of which had to be carefully meted out.  It was all worth it though, the scrimping, saving and planning so that I could buy glass for my next “fix”.  It was the joy of the game, making all the puzzle pieces fit  together.  And it’s something to be proud of because not everyone can manage it.  So my advice for artist moms who are walking this road:  make your work when you can but don’t ever sacrifice too much sleep, because if you do that will always come back to bite you.  Bide your time and make what you make as slowly as is needed at this time of your life.  It’s only a season, which passes quickly enough; a little too quickly.  Enjoy all aspects of your life as a young artist mom.

Jamie Gray is president of GAAC. She parents her two teenage daughters in Calgary, both of whom are getting pretty proficient at cutting glass, checking the kilns, and general fetching/carrying in the studio (the advantages of training them well!).

Jamie stopping and smelling the flowers

Julie Gibb:

My husband, Gordon Webster, and I have two children: Leo, soon-to-be four; and Robin, two.  We also have a hotshop, which is like having seven other children. Sometimes I think we would be good entertainment as a reality TV series!

Having children has certainly changed how I work.  I do what I can do in the time I have in each day and remind myself that I am a parent first.  It is definitely a balancing act!  I try to tackle things early in the event of a sick child and I try not to procrastinate, but sometimes I have to accept my procrastination as legitimate tired parent syndrome!

We try to stay connected, even with children; for example we took Leo to see Dante Marioni’s demo at ACAD when he was one; we took Robin to Seattle when she was six months old to visit museums and galleries and to buy supplies, and most recently we took both of them to Rachael Wong’s opening Flat Depth at Stride Gallery in Calgary.

Sometimes I think it is an impossible feat running a hotshop and having children, but then I think it must be difficult for most parents no matter what profession they find themselves in.  I am grateful to accept this challenge for the incredible reward of watching our children grow! Never a dull moment!

In the beginning stages of opening our studio, we were working with an organization called Community Futures. Our loan officer came to the shop one day and I remember saying to Gord, “She is not going to give us this loan because she is going to think we are crazy having a baby and starting a business”.  I made some offhand comment about it to her in an awkward nervous way and she said matter of factly, “well, you know, people do have babies”!

Julie in background with a sleeping baby Robin (3 months old) in a baby carrier while husband Gordon Webster blows glass, Photo credit: Shawn Ayrest

Laura Donefer:

When my daughter, Ana Matisse, was two, and I was 38, I went to Pilchuck to teach a beginner glass blowing class, and it was the very first time that I was apart from my daughter; three weeks away from her! It was truly a painful time, as I had no idea that my reaction would be so strong. Never again, I thought! The next time Pilchuck asked me to teach, Ana Matisse was six, and I said NO WAY! The result was that Pike Powers invited Ana to be the official “Child Artist in Residence”, and this was how Ana got to go to Pilchuck at least five times and to Penland once, Red Deer twice, Ausglass once, a few GAAC and GAS conferences and countless road trips to gallery openings.

Ana Matisse thrived hanging out with glass people; she got to sandcast, blow glass, dance on marvers, and have a marvelous time. She was a TA for Thermon Statom, did critiques for the De La Torre brothers, hung out a lot with Kiki Smith, got hugged by Judy Chicago, and even won a Pilchuck T-shirt contest with her drawing of James Mongrain with his hair burnt off.

She was born the night of my second glass fashion show, and she was on stage in her mirror costume during the third one, and was in others that followed. By osmosis, Ana Matisse learned to blow glass, and was my assistant colour bit bringer for years…..excellent heat!

For 16 years, Ana came with me to the Habatat International in Michigan, and we stayed with Ferd Hampson, his wife Kathy and their various kids. Ana grew up surrounded  by glass art, and artists, and even sold a very expensive piece to some collectors when she was eight. Ferd gave her a commission! ($5.00)

Ana was indispensable when I was working in my studio, giving me very sage advice, like “Mom, too much stuff on that piece!” or “I think you should place this feather HERE and not there!

Laura Donefer lives near Harrowsmith, Ontario, with Dave and her animals, works alone in her studio and reall,y really misses her daughter Ana Matisse, who is having a wonderful life at university in Halifax.  www.lauradonefer.com

Ana Matisse assisting Laura at Penland

Steven Tippin:

The first (and hardest) lesson that I learned in balancing my time as a new parent and glass artist is that my window of time to work has severely shrunk. Gone are the days where I could spend eight or more hours in the studio working; now I feel lucky to have a solid hour and a half of time. My wife is still home on maternity leave and has been great at giving me more time when big shows are approaching; once she goes back to work, my production time will really slow down. I have learned to be okay with that. My life has become more balanced overall and time in the studio has become more efficient.

I have also learned that I can trim time from areas that are not as important, in order to help prioritize my time in the studio and my time with my daughter, Grace. The biggest change, believe it or not, was moving out of Toronto. I realized that I do not need to work/live in Toronto in order to be a successful glass artist. Now, rather than spend an hour in my car driving down Bathurst to my shared studio in Toronto, I have my studio on-site in a detached workshop on our property. What a difference. My commute is now less than 20 steps. Even when living in Toronto, I would only go into the downtown core a few days out of the year to bring more work to galleries, go to openings, etc and I realized that I still can do that and live on the other side of Waterloo. When I do go to Toronto now, I have learned to be efficient and book multiple gallery meetings each time.

I have also learned that 3M does not make respirators small enough for a six-month-old baby, which is for the best as she is not tall enough to use my belt sander anyways. That is a joke, of course!

Steven Tippin is very new to parenthood and looks forward to reading the advice in this article (and any comments from other parents). He is currently the GAAC vice-president and a glass artist living just west of Waterloo, Ontario. www.steventippin.com

Tippin Family at the telephone booth gallery - Photo credit: Sharlene Rankin

Eva Milinkovic:

When my son, Max, was three months old we did two trade shows: one in Las Vegas and one in New York. The dates overlapped, so my husband Kris went to one and I went to the other in New York, bringing my mom with me to babysit. I was nursing, so we had bags and bags of breast milk stuffed in the hotel minibar. The kicker was that I had to leave the booth often to go and pump in the bathroom (have you really heard one of those electric pumpers? They are a little loud!), let’s just say I got more than a few looks and don’t even get me started on the leaking!

The week before my due date we did a trade show (Kris flew down to set up and we had help working the show). In my crazy pregnant brain I booked a flight back that was a day later than my due date; in a panic, the night before, I booked another flight so he would be back in 12 hours. What could go wrong in 12 hours? A few hours after he left, I started feeling weird but ignored it and made a sandwich, had some ice cream, and had a nap. A few hours after that, my water broke. I called Kris in a panic to fly back ASAP. He arrived in Chicago at night and couldn’t get the connecting flight (three non-refundable flights later). Our doula drove me to the hospital. I got there at 8 cm dilated (at 10 cm you start to push the baby out) and the doctors said for me to start pushing. (I thought: what do you mean push I just got here!!).  It was a pretty quick delivery to say the least and I did it by myself. Kris arrived a few hours after. Immediately after giving birth, in the labour room, I was emailing clients because we had a tight deadline on a project – does the work ever stop?!

Eva Milinkovic is creative director for Tsunami Glassworks and wrote this on the run! www.tsunamiglassworks.com

Eva and Max working a trade show

Kasia Czarnota:

I remember being so excited about the prospect of being on maternity leave. A whole year off from my day job! That, coupled with a baby who sleeps 20 hours a day (according to all those new parent books), my studio practice will soar! I’ll make lots of work and my soul will be refreshed!

Of course, things never work out the way you plan.  My gorgeous son never slept, or if he did it was in 20-minute spurts around the clock.  The free time I thought I’d have has been fleeting, and more often than not the few minutes I did get to myself were used for power naps; trying to combat complete exhaustion.  Becoming a parent was overwhelming, and as time passed I grew more and more despondent over not being able to make anything.

I have adjusted by learning to be very patient.  I spend more time contemplating the work I’ve been planning to make, turning it over in my head, making quick sketches on whatever is handy.  Sometimes this tortures me – thinking about making work does not produce anything tangible – but mostly I have found that this added time has been very beneficial.  Ideas that are strong have stayed with me over time, and ones that are not have dropped away.  The work is more developed.  I’ve been able to make adjustments to designs before starting to sculpt.  I now have a fully developed series of work to make with a cohesive theme and progression of design.

This focus has lead to a more efficient use of time when I do get the opportunity to sculpt.

Kasia Czarnota practices the art of parenthood and casting in Toronto, Ontario.

Kasia and Adam out on the town

Christy’s list of tips for new parents:

Find flexible daycare
The expense is frightening but it is hard to make your work when you have a baby. I had a fantasy that Miller would sleep or play in her crib while I worked; but that never happened. Miller goes to daycare twice a week and having 16 hours of studio time has made me very focused and productive. I am not sure what I did prior to having a baby, but I think I actually get more work done now. You can also include child care in grant proposal budgets.

Ignore your messy house

I once heard an interview with E. Annie Proulx, author of The Shipping News, she said “No one is going to remember me for doing the dishes.” My husband, Andrew, may think I took her advice a little too seriously, but she is right; leave the dishes and hit the studio.

Find a partner who likes to cook

The days of ending a long day at the studio with a can of tuna, a bag of microwave popcorn and a glass of red wine while reading a book are over. Artists may not always need a balanced diet but word on the street is that children do. Having a partner whose hobby is cooking is greatly appreciated.

Get a dog (not a puppy; puppies are a lot of work)
Lately the only time I feel like I have time to think is while walking our dogs. They force me to stop, get out of the house and mull over ideas.

It gets easier

The other day we were able to pour a concrete piece while Miller (now three and half) played with bubble wrap. Known to her as bubble pop, it is a magic toy that can provide hours of entertainment. She now understands that although I am home, I am working and she is learning to entertain herself. She is colouring and singing beside me as I write.

I was with my sister when she gave birth. The doctor told her to “push through the pain”. It has become my mantra. There are days when it feels impossible to keep everything on track but I push through the pain and keep going. Becoming this new person called, “Mom” sometimes still seems unbelievable. Now at the end of a long studio day I snuggle on the couch and watch an episode of Arthur with a freshly bathed kid and it is good

Conclusion: 

Every parent, artist or not, goes through adjustments when they become a parent. Learning how to parent and raise a child is not exclusive to artists, but I do think that the contributing artists, taking the time to submit for this article, demonstrate their dedication to parenthood and to their creative selves.  They show that with flexibility, perseverance and creativeness you can balance your needs with your families’. Include your child in your artistic life and you will both become richer from it.

Christy Haldane lives and works outside of Lakefield, Ontario. On May 13, 2012, she was able to put a piece together in her studio while her daughter, Miller, coloured. What a great Mother’s Day Present.

L’art d’être parent

Compilé par : Christy Haldane

Cet article est né d’une conversation avec Celeste Scopelites, directrice de la Galerie d’art de Peterborough. Ma fille Miller avait deux ans et je travaillais sur une installation extérieure pour Artsweek (Semaine de l’art) à Peterborough. Je papotais sur le temps et  l’énergie qu’il fallait pour installer la pièce. Elle me dit alors « Tu es en train de réapprendre à redevenir une artiste ». Le commentaire est resté dans ma tête et j’ai réfléchi à la façon dont mon activité avait changé depuis la naissance de Miller.

J’ai contacté d’autres artistes pour leur demander leurs points de vue. Leurs histoires m’ont inspiré ; ils ont réussi à trouver un équilibre entre leur carrière et l’éducation de leurs enfants. Ils me parlent d’épuisement, de sacrifices et d’un rythme de folie. Comme l’a si bien dit la responsable de prêts financiers de Julie Gibb, « C’est normal d’avoir des enfants » et les histoires ci-dessous nous montrent comment y survivre en tant que parent et artiste.

Miller dansant sur du papier bulle

Jamie Gray :

J’ai débuté dans le métier du verre avant la naissance de mes enfants, il y a maintenant 20 ans. Durant les premières années avant leur naissance, j’étais ravie de travailler le verre.  Après, cela devint plutôt un soulagement et un moyen enthousiaste de fuir les corvées que deviennent parfois les couches et les heures du biberon. Lorsque mes filles étaient plus jeunes (de bébés à adolescentes), je casais l’activité artistique par petits bouts, entre deux autres choses, quand c’était possible. Le temps que je pouvais y consacrer dépendait toujours de l’énergie qu’il me restait, vu que les besoins des enfants passaient forcément toujours avant les miens, et qu’importent mes envies. J’ai aussi dû créer un espace spécialement dédié au verre pour éviter que mes enfants ne puissent y avoir accès (à cause des échardes, de la poudre, des éclats, etc.), j’avais donc un coin de ma maison bloqué en espace de travail et inutilisable pour quoi que ce soit d’autre.

Quand je repense à ce que cela représente d’avoir des enfants en bas âge lorsqu’on essaie de construire une carrière d’artiste verrier, le mot qui me vient à l’esprit est « sacrifice ». Il faut sacrifier de l’argent, de l’énergie et du temps, et les répartir avec soin. Mais tout cela en valait la chandelle, se serrer la ceinture, mettre de côté et s’organiser pour acheter et avoir ma prochaine « dose » de verre. Le jeu était d’arriver à rejoindre toutes les pièces du puzzle. Et il y a de quoi en être fier car ce n’est pas donné à tout le monde. Alors mon conseil pour les mamans artistes qui sont dans la même situation : travaillez autant que vous le pouvez mais n’y sacrifiez jamais trop de sommeil car cela se retournera contre vous. Prenez du temps pour vous et réalisez vos œuvres aussi lentement que nécessaire à cette étape de la vie.  Ce n’est qu’une période, qui passe suffisamment vite, même un peu trop vite. Profitez de tous les aspects de votre vie de jeunes mamans artistes.

Jamie Gray est la présidente de la GAAC. Ses deux filles ados qu’elle élève à Calgary sont déjà douées pour couper le verre, vérifier les fours et apporter ou porter dans l’atelier (l’avantage de leur avoir bien montré !) www.glassartcanada.ca/public/artist/Jamie.Gray#portfolio

Jamie s’arrêtant un instant pour sentir les fleurs

Julie Gibb :

Mon mari Gordon Webster et moi avons deux enfants : Leo, bientôt 4 ans, et Robin, deux ans. Nous avons aussi une agence de publicité, ce qui revient à avoir au moins sept enfants supplémentaires. Parfois je me dis que nous pourrions passer facilement dans une émission de télé réalité !

Le fait d’avoir des enfants a bien sûr changé ma façon de travailler. Je fais chaque jour ce que je peux avec le temps que j’ai et je n’oublie pas que je suis maman avant tout. C’est très clairement un équilibre ! J’essaie de travailler tôt le matin lorsqu’un des enfants est malade et j’évite de trainer les pieds, même si je dois admettre que parfois la procrastination est un syndrome bien légitime pour les parents fatigués !

Même avec les enfants, nous essayons de rester connectés avec le milieu ; par exemple nous avons emmené Leo voir la démonstration de Dante Marioni à l’ACAD alors qu’il n’avait qu’un an ; à 6 mois nous avons emmené Robin à Seattle pour visiter des musées et des galeries et acheter du matériel. Plus récemment, les deux nous ont accompagnés au vernissage de Rachael Wong pour Flat Depth à la galerie Stride  de Calgary.

Parfois je me dis que c’est un sacré exploit que de parvenir à faire tourner une agence de pub tout en ayant des enfants. Mais finalement je me dis que ça doit être difficile pour la plupart des parents, quelle que soit leur profession. Je suis heureuse d’accepter ce challenge en échange de cette formidable récompense de pouvoir regarder nos enfants grandir ! On ne s’ennuie jamais !

Au début de l’ouverture de notre atelier, nous avons travaillé avec une organisation qui s’appelait Community Futures. La responsable des prêts financiers est venue nous rendre visite à l’agence un jour et je me rappelle avoir dit à Gord « Elle ne va jamais nous accorder de prêts parce qu’elle va croire qu’on est taré de vouloir monter une entreprise alors qu’on vient juste d’avoir un bébé ». J’ai fait quelques remarques désinvoltes d’une façon nerveuse et maladroite à ce propos, auxquelles elle s’est empressé de me répondre « Eh bien, vous savez, c’est normal d’avoir des enfants » !

Julie dans le fond avec bébé Robin (3 mois) endormi dans une poussette tandis que son mari Gordon Webster souffle du verre. Crédit photo : Shawn Ayrest

Laura Donefer :

Quand ma fille Ana Matisse était âgée de 2 ans et moi de 38 ans, je suis allée donner un cours pour débutants en soufflage de verre à Pilchuck . C’était la première fois que je me séparais de ma fille ; trois semaines sans elle ! Ça a été vraiment dur et j’ignorais que je le vivrais si difficilement. Je me suis dit « Plus jamais » !  Quand Pilchuck m’a redemandé de venir enseigner, Ana Matisse avait alors 6 ans, et j’ai répondu « Hors de question  » ! Pike Powers a alors invité Ana à devenir officiellement « l’artiste enfant de la formation », et voici comment Ana finit par venir à Pilchuck au moins 5 fois, à Penland une fois, à Red Deer deux fois, à Ausglass  une fois, ainsi qu’à quelques conférences de la GAAC et de la GAS,  sans compter les multiples voyages pour assister aux vernissages dans des galeries.

Ana Matisse adorait passer du temps avec les artistes verriers, on lui permettait de sabler, de souffler du verre, de danser sur les marbres et surtout de passer de bons moments. Elle a été tour à tour assistante pour Thermon Statom, critique pour les frères De La Torre, bonne copine avec Kiki Smith, câlinée par Judy Chicago et a même gagné un T-shirt de Pilchuck au concours avec son dessin de James Mongrain qui a les cheveux en feu.

Elle est née la nuit de mon deuxième défilé de mode en verre et elle était sur le podium dans un costume en miroirs dès le troisième, ainsi que dans d’autres après cela. Par osmose, Ana Matisse a appris à souffler le verre et a été mon assistante porteuse de frites de couleurs  pendant des années… Belle équipe !

Ana m’a accompagnée pendant 16 années au Habitat International  dans le Michigan et nous étions hébergées par Ferd Hampson, avec sa femme Kathy et ses enfants. Ana a grandi dans le monde du verre, des artistes, et a même vendu une œuvre de très grande valeur une fois à un collectionneur alors qu’elle avait 8 ans. Ferd lui donna donc une petite commission (5,00 $) !

Ana était indispensable quand je travaillais dans mon atelier, en me donnant de sages conseils comme « Maman, trop chargée cette pièce » ! ou « Je crois que tu devrais mettre cette plume ICI et non là »  !

Laura Donefer vit près de Harrowsmith en Ontario avec Dave et ses animaux. Elle travaille seule dans son atelier tandis que sa fille Ana Matisse poursuit ses études à l’Université de Halifax et lui manque beaucoup. www.lauradonefer.com

Ana Matisse assiste Laura à Penland

Steven Tippin :

En tant que nouveau parent et artiste verrier, la première chose (et la plus difficile) que j’ai découverte concernant  la répartition de mon temps de travail fut à quel point mon créneau avait rétréci. Finis les jours où je pouvais passer plus de 8 heures dans l’atelier ; maintenant je suis content quand je peux avoir une heure et demie entière. Ma femme est encore en congé maternité chez nous et elle est super ; elle m’a donné plus de temps quand les grosses expositions approchent ; quand elle reprendra le travail, mon rythme de production va vraiment ralentir. J’ai appris à l’accepter. Ma vie est devenue plus équilibrée en général et mon temps passé en atelier plus efficace.

J’ai aussi appris à restreindre mon temps dédié à certaines choses moins importantes pour donner priorité à mon temps en atelier et à ma fille Grace. Le plus gros changement, croyez-moi, a été de déménager de Toronto. Je me suis rendu compte que je n’avais pas besoin de vivre et de travailler à Toronto pour réussir en tant qu’artiste verrier. Maintenant, au lieu de passer une heure dans ma voiture pour me rendre à mon atelier partagé à Bathurst, j’ai mon propre atelier sur place dans un bâtiment à part sur notre terrain. Quel progrès. Mon trajet fait à présent moins de 20 pas. Même en habitant Toronto, je ne me rendais au centre-ville que quelques jours par année pour livrer des œuvres aux galeries, me rendre à des vernissages, etc. Et je me suis rendu compte qu’il était tout autant possible de le faire en vivant de l’autre côté de Waterloo. Lorsque je vais à Toronto à présent, j’arrive à être efficace et je m’arrange pour avoir plusieurs rendez-vous de galeries le même jour.

J’ai aussi découvert que 3M ne produisait pas de masque anti poussière assez petit pour un bébé de 6 mois, ce qui n’est pas plus mal vu qu’elle n’est de toute façon pas assez grande non plus pour utiliser ma ponceuse. Je plaisante évidemment !

Steven Tippin est un tout nouveau parent et se réjouit de pouvoir lire les conseils dans cet article (et tout autre commentaire venant de parents). Il est à l’heure actuelle vice-président de la GAAC et artiste verrier résidant à l’ouest de Waterloo en Ontario. www.steventippin.com

La famille Tippin à la Galerie Telephone Booth. Crédit photo : Sharlene Rankin

Eva Milinkovic:

Quand mon fils Max avait 3 mois, nous avons fait deux salons artisanaux : l’un à Las Vegas et l’autre à New York. Les dates se chevauchaient donc mon mari Kris s’est rendu à l’un et je suis allée à l’autre à New York avec ma mère qui se chargeait du gardiennage. Comme j’allaitais, nous avions rempli le minibar de l’hôtel de poches de lait maternel.  Le fin du fin était quand je devais quitter le stand de temps en temps pour aller pomper mon lait dans les toilettes (avez-vous déjà entendu ces fameuses pompes électriques ? Elles sont légèrement bruyantes !). Disons que j’ai eu droit à quelques regards et je ne vous parle même pas des montées de lait !

La semaine précédant mon accouchement, nous avons fait un salon (Kris y alla en avion pour installer et nous avions prévu de l’aide pour travailler au salon). Dans mon cerveau farfelu de femme enceinte, j’ai réservé son billet retour un jour après la date prévue de mon accouchement ; la nuit juste avant, je lui ai réservé en panique un nouveau vol pour qu’il soit de retour dans 12 heures. Qu’est-ce qui pouvait bien m’arriver en 12 heures ? Quelques heures après son départ, j’ai commencé à me sentir bizarre mais je n’y ai pas prêté attention et je me suis fait un sandwich, j’ai mangé une glace et j’ai fait une sieste. Quelques heures plus tard, j’ai perdu mes eaux. J’ai appelé Kris en lui demandant de revenir dès que possible. Il est arrivé de nuit à Chicago et n’a pas pu avoir le vol correspondant (trois vols non remboursés plus tard). Notre sage femme m’a conduit à l’hôpital. J’y suis arrivée dilatée de 8 cm (à 10 cm, vous commencez à pousser) et les docteurs m’ont dit de commencer à pousser. (Je me suis alors dit, comment ça pousser, je viens à peine d’arriver !!). Tout s’est passé très rapidement et j’ai tout fait toute seule. Kris est arrivé quelques heures plus tard. Juste après avoir donné naissance, alors que j’étais encore dans la salle d’accouchement, j’envoyais des emails aux clients à cause d’un délai trop juste sur un projet. S’arrête-t-on jamais vraiment de travailler ?

Eva Milinkovic est la directrice artistique de Tsunami Glassworks et nous a écrit cela sur le vif ! www.tsunamiglassworks.com

Eva et Max travaillant à un salon professionnel

Kasia Czarnota:

Je me rappelle m’être tant réjouie à l’idée d’être en congé de maternité. Toute une année libérée de mon travail quotidien ! Ça, et un bébé qui dormirait 20 heures par jour (selon les livres pour les nouveaux parents), mon activité en atelier allait augmenter considérablement ! J’allais faire des tas d’œuvres et je me serais sentie rassérénée !

Évidemment, les choses ne se passent jamais comme prévu. Mon adorable fils n’a jamais dormi, ou alors par laps de 20 minutes autour du cadran. Le temps libre que j’avais cru avoir était restreint et le plus souvent, les quelques minutes que j’avais de libre me servaient à faire des siestes pour récupérer,  tenter de combattre l’épuisement général. Devenir un parent était crevant et plus le temps passait, et plus j’étais embêtée à l’idée de ne rien pouvoir faire d’autre.

Je m’en suis sortie en devenant très patiente. J’ai passé plus de temps à contempler le travail que j’avais prévu de faire, à le tourner dans tous les sens dans mon imagination, à faire des croquis rapides sur ce que j’avais sous la main. Parfois cela me torturait, car penser à créer des œuvres ne donne rien de bien tangible, mais j’ai surtout découvert que ce temps supplémentaire m’avait fait du bien. Avec le temps, les idées solides sont restées et les autres ont été abandonnées en cours. Le travail est plus approfondi. J’ai pu faire des modifications aux modèles avant de commencer à sculpter. J’ai à présent développé des séries d’œuvres qui forment un thème cohérent et voient une progression de design.

Cette concentration m’a permis de mieux utiliser mon temps lorsque j’ai l’occasion de sculpter.

Kasia Czarnota pratique l’art d’être parent ainsi que celui de la pâte de verre à Toronto en Ontario. www.glassartcanada.ca/public/artist/Kasia.Czarnota

Kasia et Adam sortis en ville

Petits conseils de Christy pour les nouveaux parents :

Trouver une garderie flexible

Le prix fait peur, mais il est difficile de travailler avec un bébé. J’espérais que Miller dormirait ou jouerait dans son berceau pendant que je travaillerais ; mais cela n’a pas fonctionné. Miller va à la garderie deux fois par semaine maintenant et ces 16 heures d’atelier par semaine me forcent à me concentrer et être productive. Je ne suis pas bien sûre de ce que j’y faisais avant d’avoir le bébé, mais j’ai l’impression que je parviens à en faire plus maintenant. Vous pouvez aussi inclure les frais de garde du bébé dans les budgets pour les demandes de bourses.

Ne faites pas attention au bazar dans ma maison

J’ai une fois entendu dire dans une interview d’E. Annie Proulx, l’auteur de The Shipping News, que « personne ne se souviendra jamais de vous pour votre talent à faire la vaisselle ». Mon mari Andrew doit croire que j’ai pris le conseil un peu trop à la lettre, mais elle a raison ; laissez tomber la vaisselle et foncez à votre atelier !

Trouver un partenaire qui aime cuisiner

Les jours où vous finissiez, après une longue journée passée à l’atelier, avec une boîte de thon, un sac de popcorns au micro-ondes et un verre de vin rouge en lisant un livre, sont bien révolus. Les artistes n’ont peut-être pas forcément besoin d’un régime équilibré, mais une chose est sûre, les enfants oui.  Un partenaire dont le hobby est de faire la cuisine est donc précieux.

Prenez un chien (pas un chiot, les chiots représentent beaucoup de travail)

Ces derniers temps, les seuls moments où j’ai l’impression d’avoir le temps de réfléchir sont quand je promène mes chiens. Ils m’obligent à faire une pause, à sortir de la maison  et à réfléchir posément.

Cela va en s’améliorant

L’autre jour, nous avons pu couler une pièce en béton tandis que Miller (maintenant 3 ans et demi) jouait avec du papier bulle. Appelé bubble pop pour elle, c’est un jouet magique qui peut l’amuser pendant des heures. Elle comprend maintenant que bien que je sois à la maison, je travaille, et elle apprend désormais à s’occuper toute seule. Elle fait du coloriage et chante à mes côtés tandis que je suis en train d’écrire.

Lorsque ma sœur a accouché, j’étais présente à ses côtés. Le médecin lui a dit de « pousser malgré la douleur ». C’est devenu mon moto. Il y a des jours où cela nous paraît impossible de tout gérer mais je pousse malgré la douleur et j’avance. Devenir cette nouvelle personne qu’on appelle « Maman » me semble parfois encore invraisemblable. Maintenant, après une longue journée en atelier, je me blottis dans le canapé et je regarde un épisode d’Arthur avec un enfant tout propre qui sort du bain et ça fait du bien.

Conclusion :

Chaque parent, artiste ou non, traverse des phases d’ajustement quand il le devient. Apprendre à éduquer et à élever un enfant n’est pas seulement réservé aux artistes, mais je pense que les artistes qui ont collaboré à cet article prouvent qu’ils sont dévoués autant à leur statut de parent qu’à leur personnalité créative. Ils montrent qu’avec flexibilité, persévérance et créativité, on peut équilibrer ses besoins avec ceux de sa famille. Mettez un enfant dans votre vie d’artiste et vous en ressortirez tous deux plus épanouis.

Christy Haldane vit et travaille près de Lakefield en Ontario. Le 13 mai 2012, elle a pu créer une pièce dans son atelier pendant que sa fille Miller faisait du coloriage. Quel beau cadeau pour la fête des mères.

www.christyhaldane.com

(Reprinted with permission)

by: Jon Wells

The Hamilton Spectator

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Shirley Elford and Clark Guettel

“I’ve had a good life, a good journey. How could I be upset? It’s liberating to know that it is what it is.” Shirley Elford spoke those words about a year ago, knowing that time was not on her side. Diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer in January 2008, the renowned glass artist never stopped reminding her family and legion of friends that she did not fear death. The life expectancy for that form of cancer is three to five years.

Shirley prepared for it, hired a funeral planner, joked that sometimes it felt odd to organize a party for which she would not be present. And yet, befitting an east end girl who used to work on her dad’s construction sites, she fought death every step of the way, calling upon her reserves of physical and spiritual courage, and receiving experimental cancer treatments for which she paid out of her own pocket.

The battle ended, shortly before noon Thursday. Family gathered at Shirley’s sid e at Juravinski Cancer Centre when she died. She had turned 68 in August.

Shirley Elford lived many lives. The daughter of Margrit and Bill Sinclair — Bill was a prominent Hamilton builder — she married Gerry Elford in 1963, when she was 19. They had two daughters, Ann and Arlene.

At 23, Shirley went back to school, to the Dundas Valley School of Art, where she took every course they offered over 13 years. Then she studied glassmaking at the Ontario College of Art and Sheridan College.

She fell in love with the physical and creative demands of glassmaking; the hum and heat of the oven, shaping the glass in any direction her imagination took it. Nearing middle age, her career took off. She opened a studio in Hamilton, and eventually was picked to redesign the Juno Award. She personally made 1,000 Junos over the years. Her other works ended up in collections around the world, and were presented by the city to visiting luminaries including Bill Clinton, Elton John, Bono, Prince Edward and Christopher Reeve. But her greatest artistic legacy was her angels. In 1990, inspired by her mother’s passing, and the tragic death of a toddler in a house fire, Shirley created a glass angel design that was elegant and uplifting. By the end of her life, she had made about 9,000 of the angels. She believed that every one of them possessed a piece of her mother, and the toddler, and that each angel found its way to the right owner, to inspire and comfort.

In addition to her artistic career, Shirley served myriad community causes, promoting awareness for mental health and ovarian cancer, volunteering for charities and Theatre Aquarius. She sat on the board of directors of the Ticats and was presented with an honorary degree from McMaster.

Her personality was always much younger than her years. Into her 50s she easily mingled socially and creatively with up and coming young glass artists. One of these protégés was Paull Rodrigue, who runs Rodrigue Glass studio in Dundas. Shirley asked him to make the glass urn where her ashes would rest. Paull spoke with her last weekend. She sounded better than she had in awhile, but also quite tired. “She put up a long fight — it’s just hard when you lose people like that,” he said Thursday, his voice weak. “She always gave back to her community. My greatest memory of her is her laugh, and her jokes.” And then, speaking of Shirley’s angels, he added: “She was clearly a mirror image of her work.”

In recent years, Shirley lived by herself in a cosy condo in the east end. Husband Gerry suffers from Alzheimer’s and lives in a home in Owen Sound, near one of their daughters. He is no longer able to recognize family, but could on occasion recognize Shirley.

Living in Hamilton allowed Shirley to receive regular treatment at Juravinski Cancer Centre — she spoke glowingly of her care there — and to keep up her schedule, which included a yoga class downtown three to four times a week that she loved attending.

Her yoga classmates, she said last year, “come by and hang with me, help me laugh, help me get better. You have to laugh every day. Laughter is good.”

She experienced some close calls during her cancer fight before finally succumbing. She nearly died around Christmas 2009, but a new treatment, and her will, pulled her through.

Hot Topic: Shirley Elford

Last year, Shirley was asked: Did she fear anything?

“The loss of my grandchildren would absolutely terrify me. But the rest, no. I’m not afraid to die. I have a deep spiritual belief that there’s a force that takes care of me. Cancer has taught me a lot about life. I feel that every day is a gift.”

Through the ups and downs of the battle, her outlook never changed. Friends said she maintained a “no crying” rule in her presence. Her quirky sense of humour and manic energy for her art and the community never seemed to abate.

She went on a Las Vegas vacation not too long ago and even wondered about giving skydiving a shot.

And Shirley returned to her friend Paul’s glass studio to make more angels. She seemed to bask in the heat of the oven, as though it was a kind of life force.

“If they send me to hell, I’m used to the heat,” she said, laughing. “But I don’t think I’m going there, though.”

It took her many years before she had pursued her artistic calling. She felt it had always been there, inside her, but she just needed to find it.

Discovering glassmaking had been her “Ah!” moment, she said.

Shirley agreed that many people go through life never experiencing that moment.

“That’s right — and I’m not finished yet. There might be another ‘ah!’ moment for me. Maybe death is the final one. But I still think I have a few more before I get there.”

Shirley leaves her husband, Gerry, daughters Anne Elford and Arlene Sokalski, brother Bud Sinclair, sister Elaine Lymburner and grandchildren Michelle, Jayson, Matthew and Evan.

This article was written by Jon Wells and made available by The Hamilton Spectator to GAAC for distribution to our members.  GAAC would like to thank them for sharing their moving tribute to a great Canadian artist.  To view the original article visit http://www.thespec.com/news/local/article/623271–an-angel-spreads-her-wings.  You can also see Jon Wells’ award-winning profile of Shirley Elford from December 2010. Readers were invited to talk about the Elford angels in their lives. Read their stories, here. 

by Jaan Poldaas

The Canberra Glassworks, with assistance from the Thomas Foundation in Canberra, offers residencies to emerging artists nearly all year round.  Upon finishing the two-year program at the Jam Factory in Adelaide, I applied to the Thomas Foundation Artist-in-Residence program and was accepted to complete a six-week residency which took place through August and September this year.

The TFair is a sweet deal. Applicants generate a budget up to $4000 based on the rental of Glassworks facilities. If accepted, the applicant puts up half the budget, the other half subsidized by the Thomas Foundation. The Glassworks also throws in accommodation at ‘The Chapel’ which is a swish apartment located 50m from the glassworks studio.

The result was a fantastic opportunity to develop new work in a spacious, top notch studio amongst amazing visual artists working in glass. It was such an ideal environment for my first professional residency.

'Sketch' photo courtesy of the artist.

My glass practice had mainly consisted of blown glass product development (as per the mandate of the Jam Factory glass studio) and a style of artwork which was also very vessel-oriented with an emphasis on form and proportional impact. I proposed to reside at the Glassworks so I could do some experimentation with surface and create some work that had more room for play and revision, a departure from my main body of work which is mostly realised in the hot shop and is largely determined by accuracy of shape. I wanted to make some flat ribbon-shaped murrine that could be chopped into rectangular tiles and added to sections of my forms, creating asymmetry by visually opposing the horizontally-applied ‘coil’ technique that I have been developing for the last three years. I saw the potential for contrast between the loose application of the coils and the sort of digital structure of these vertically-aligned murrine. I wanted to work on a broad range of murrine techniques in both the hot and cold shop and although these few precepts were the basis of my time in Canberra, I felt at liberty to change course fluidly and, in a way, I went both backwards and forwards through my sketchbook.

'Guide' photo courtesy of the artist.'Result' photo courtesy of the artist.

'Result' photo courtesy of the artist.

Towards the end of my residency I really found a new point of interest. I have used the coil technique for some time and it has always been a direct way of staying connected to the clear glass in the furnace and allowing the material to be naked, distorted, sparkly and so forth. Late in my time there, I started to work with just coiled glass and to make some purely sculptural forms with coils, which I pushed off centre and into sort of triangular diamond shapes. I melted them repeatedly in the hot shop until the outer surface was nearly smooth and all that was left was this shape with an undulating interior edge that I would later highlight by coldworking the entire outer surface to reveal this impossible looking interior line. The few finished objects I took away from my residency were still what I consider tests. They will sit on my desk for now and I’ll consider what’s good about them and will eventually make a new body of exhibition work based on the successes from my time in Canberra. And that new potential is as tactile a result as I could have asked for.

'Crystalized Interior' photo courtesy of the artist.

'Distribution' detail photo courtesy of the artist.

By Brianna Strong

The Alberta College of Art + Design is a place of creative engagement and active discourse.   What is cultured inside the walls of the school propagates in the greater dialogue of contemporary art and culture.  Keeping pace with this perpetual growth and conceptual variation is ACAD’s glass program with Natali Rodrigues, as she enters her third year as Head of the Department.  I sat down with Natali to summarize and discuss the most notable catalysts and changes the glass program has observed over the past two years. 

Some exciting shifts and transitions among the faculty include Tyler Rock pursuing his Masters in Visual Arts at the University of Southern Australia in Adelaide.  Beginning his thesis in January 2011, Tyler continues to investigate notions of the artifact, both as a ‘blip in the scientific process’ and as ‘a phenomenological event in craft objects’.  He is expected to return to ACAD in September 2012. Since the beginning of this academic year, Robert Geyer is the new Head of Glass at Bowling Green University in Ohio.  At ACAD, recent changes to the academic structure have brought Marty Kaufman back from being Assistant Dean to full time teaching.  Additionally, the glass program will undergo a curriculum review under the ‘guiding philosophy of enhancing the individual voices of students’ through the development of technical skill and unique methodologies.

Rachael Wong, “Push and Pull”, Digital Print, 20” x 30”, 2009

There have been major contributions to this fundamental enrichment of creative and critical studies from the Visiting Artists, Visiting Lecturers and Artists in Residence that have cultivated their practices at ACAD.  The 2010 – 2011 school year was marked by Visiting Artist Catharine Newell’s ‘powder drawings and paintings with light’ that were supplemented by explorations of social interaction with respect to swarm theory.  Trish Roan visited to investigate temporality, poetics and the interconnectivity of all things.  And Judith Schaechter’s stained glass workshops and compelling approach to the creative process continued to enrich the program.   From January to May of 2011, Natali Rodrigues secured the ultimate in creative choreography for ACAD with the addition of internationally renowned artists and educators Jane Bruce and Kirstie Rea, as the Rawlinson Visiting Artist and as the Visiting Lecturer, respectively.

Jane Bruce “Ghost House” Kilnformed glass, cold-worked, Caithness stone, 30.5 cm x 18 cm x 30.5 cm 2008, Private Collection (Photo Credit: Steven Ball)

At the present date, the glass program continues to thrive with Jane Bruce returning as the Rawlinson Visiting Artist, and with the core faculty that have not yet been mentioned, Lisa Cerny, Jim Norton and Mark Gibeau.  Also making an impact on the ACAD community is Visiting Lecturer, Rachael Wong and Artist in Residence, John Brekke.  John’s generative and sophisticated approach to ‘mark-making on the luminous surface’ is furthering conversation about image making in glass and cross-cultural influences of design and the decorative object.  Concurrently, distinguished glass artist Rachael Wong carries her multifaceted experience as an instructor into her first teaching role at a post-secondary institution.  With the perspective-making experience of teaching she plans to continue her analysis and synthesis of unique time, space and experience with respect to the art object, and in relation to the viewer.  Rachael establishes a dialogue with a viewer using the art object as a way of prompting “a cyclical process of experience …where experience manifests experience.”  The concept of a self-perpetuating correspondence between artworks and viewers appears to be essential, inside and on-site of the walls of ACAD and in an on-going navigation of contemporary art and culture.

Rachael Wong, “Flat Depth”, Blown glass, paint, 120” x 228” x 16”, 2011

By Jonathan Pischner

What’s a university student from Minnesota, who knows a little about business and a little about glass art doing writing an article for an esteemed online art magazine? Well, I guess I’m here to tell you about a learning journey that I find myself undertaking.

I’m just about the luckiest guy in the world, having landed an internship with the Farbglashütte in the beautiful town of Lauscha, Germany.  In this hilly, forested community, glass art is a means of expression, fulfillment, and livelihood.  Here, fine craftsmanship has been practiced for over 400 years. In fact, here’s a tip for you: for people who are interested in glass art, the Farbglashütte can’t be beat as a travel      destination. Visitors come from all over the world to watch blowers create garden balls out of beautiful Thuringian forest glass, to watch the pulling of rods and tubes, and to shop for beautiful glass art. Life in Lauscha is very much centered in glass.

Photo credit: Farbglashütte

As a “newbie” at the Farbglashütte, I am just beginning to learn about glass production, glass chemistry, and quality indicators of art glass. And what better place to learn? Lauscha is famous for glass manufacturing and glass art. In this place, glass-making      traditions are revered, art is celebrated, and friendships are lifelong treasures. This      friendly community has both challenged and captivated me.

My assignment in this internship is to learn as much as I can about a unique glass and its possible place in the art community. To describe it briefly, K-glass is a pre-melted glass for use as batch material for studio glass and kilncasting. Farbglashütte’s K-glass is extraordinarily beautiful. With a chemical formula based on years of practical experience, it also has all the properties glass artists need to carry out their craft: stable chemistry,      consistent CoE, and compatibility with commonly used color systems.

Photo credit: Farbglashütte

But this article isn’t about the chemistry, or even the beauty of  K-glass. This article is about environmental responsibility within the glass art trade. The big news with K-glass is that from its production to the artists’ finished products, K-glass requires less energy consumption and produces fewer harmful materials than other types of art glass.

Farbglashütte’s preservation efforts begin in the production process through the use of a modern, low energy, cost recuperative furnace.  The furnace contains 60 tons of glass. The process is continuous: batch is charged in at one end and glass is pulled out at the other end, then pressed into 2 cm x 2 cm pillows and conveyed into steel containers. The exhausts from the furnace are cleared through a state-of-the-art electromagnetic filter so that, in accordance with the strict German and European Union environmental protection laws, no damaging fumes are put into the environment. Further, in manufacturing K-glass, no hazardous materials, such as lead, are included. Right there is a health benefit for the user as well as the environment.

Photo credit: Farbglashütte

On a person level, artists who use K-glass realize the benefits of reduced melting time for blowing or kilncasting. Less melting time results in less furnace wear, reduced CO2 emissions, and reduced energy consumption – up to 25% less! Of course, the amount of energy the artist saves by using K-glass depends very much on equipment used and products being made. You can make the calculation yourself by dividing your yearly energy use by the amount of glass you use annually. Compare the results to K-glass’ overall energy requirement of 5 kwh per kilo of glass. We have seen savings from 5% to 30% in our clients’ studios. Even the addition of 50% K-glass to your batch would help you realize an energy savings.  Thus, cost-conscious artists might find K-glass worth a look for economic as well as altruistic reasons.

My specific assignment during my internship at Farbglashütte is to determine the prevalence of a need for K-glass. If my name looks familiar to you, it might be because you have received a survey from me.  I’ve been combing through websites of artists, glass art studios, and colleges seeking artists and glass art instructors who might provide data that will help determine the priorities of artists who use glass in their craft.  My survey consists of seven brief questions regarding the type and amount of glass you melt, the most important features you look for in your glass, the color method you use, and your energy use. If you would like to participate in the study, please contact me at jonathan.pischner@farbglashutte.de.  I will send the survey to you.  The survey can be taken online or using Microsoft Word.  The information I gather from artists will be used by Farbglashütte to help determine the attributes artists most desire in the glass they use.

Photo credit: Farbglashütte

Recently, I received an e-mail from a glass artist stating that “glassmaking will never be able to protect the environment ‑ it is a symbol of luxury, wealth and extravagance.”  I hope the first part of her statement isn’t true. Clearly, resources are used in glassmaking as in any other trade. Nevertheless, I believe that every one of us, regardless of our chosen career path, can seek ways of reducing energy consumption, waste production, and harm to the environment. I hope K-glass can be one means of reaching that goal.

Mon Stage à Farbglashütte: Cerner la Prévalence et le Besoin du Verre-K

Par Jonathan Pischner

Qu’est-ce qu’un étudiant du Minnesota qui s’y connaît un tout petit peu en commerce et un tout petit peu en art verrier peut bien avoir à raconter dans un article pour une prestigieuse revue en ligne? Eh bien j’imagine que c’est pour vous faire partager le séjour enrichissant que je suis en train de vivre actuellement.

Je devais probablement être le garçon le plus chanceux de la terre lorsque j’ai décroché ce stage à Farbglashütte dans la très jolie ville de Lauscha en Allemagne. Dans cette commune boisée et vallonnée, l’art du verre est un moyen d’expression, d’épanouissement et de subsistance. Un fin travail d’artiste s’y pratique depuis plus de 400 ans. Pour vous donner une petite idée, la Farbglashütte est une destination obligatoire pour ceux qui s’intéressent à l’art du verre. Des visiteurs du monde entier viennent admirer les souffleurs qui créent des boules pour le jardin dans l’étonnant verre de la forêt de Thuringian,  voir les tiges et les tubes se faire étirer, et acheter de jolies œuvres d’art en verre. La vie à Lauscha tourne principalement autour du verre.

“Petit nouveau” à la Farbglashütte, je commence tout juste à en apprendre d’avantage sur la production du verre, ses propriétés chimiques, et les indices de qualité de l’art verrier. Ici, les méthodes de fabrication verrières traditionnelles sont vénérées, l’art est célébré et les relations amicales sont précieuses. Cette communauté chaleureuse m’a à la fois mis à l’épreuve et captivé.

Au cours de ce stage, ma mission est d’en découvrir autant que possible à propos d’un verre qui est unique et d’en comprendre sa place dans la communauté artistique. Pour vous le décrire en bref, le verre-K de Farbglashütte est extraordinairement beau. Sa formule chimique se base sur des années d’usage pratique et il possède aussi les nombreuses qualités dont les artistes verriers ont besoin pour mener à bien leurs projets  artisanaux: une formule stable, un coefficient de dilatation cohérent et une compatibilité avec les systèmes de coloration habituellement utilisés.

Mais il n’est pas question dans cet article de la chimie, ni même de la beauté de ce verre-K. Cet article porte sur les responsabilités environnementales dans le milieu du verre. La grande innovation avec le verre-K se base sur le fait que de sa production jusqu’au produit fini de l’artiste, le verre-K aura consommé moins d’énergie et produit moins de déchets toxiques que certains autres types de verres.

Les intentions écologiques de Farbglashütte débutent dès son processus de création, avec l’utilisation d’un four moderne à consommation basse et rentabilité élevée. Le four peut contenir 60 tonnes de verre. Le processus de fabrication est continu: une fournée y est chargée d’un côté tandis que le verre en ressort de l’autre, puis est pressé en petits carrés de 2 x 2 cm et transporté dans des conteneurs en acier. Afin de respecter les lois de protection environnementale strictes d’Allemagne et d’Union Européenne, les échappements du four sont purifiés grâce à un filtre électromagnétique de pointe, aucune fumée toxique ne doit être rejetée dans l’environnement. Le verre-K ne contient pas non plus de matériaux dangereux tels que le plomb. Il y a donc là un avantage de santé pour son utilisateur ainsi que pour l’environnement.

A titre personnel, les artistes qui utilisent le verre-K bénéficient d’un temps de fonte plus court pour le soufflage et la pâte de verre. Et qui dit temps de fonte réduit, dit aussi une usure moindre du four, des émissions de CO² plus basses et une consommation d’énergie plus faible – jusqu’à -25%! Bien sûr la quantité d’énergie économisée par l’artiste en utilisant le verre-K dépend beaucoup des équipements utilisés et des produits conçus. Vous pouvez faire le calcul vous même en divisant votre consommation annuelle énergétique par la quantité de verre que vous utilisez par an. Comparez ensuite votre résultat au besoin total d’énergie du verre-K qui est de 5 kWh par kg de verre. Certains de nos clients ont pu constater une économie de 5 à 30 % dans leurs ateliers. Même en remplaçant 50% de votre utilisation par du verre-K vous permettrai encore de faire des économies d’énergie. Ainsi, cela vaut le coup d’étudier la question du verre-K, que ce soit pour des raisons d’économies où d’altruisme.

La mission qui m’a spécifiquement été confiée au cours de ce stage à Farbglashütte est de parvenir à déterminer la prévalence du besoin pour le verre-K. Si mon nom vous semble familier, c’est probablement parce que je vous ai envoyé un sondage. J’ai passé au peigne fin les sites Internet d’artistes, d’ateliers verriers et de collèges à la recherche d’artistes ou de maîtres verriers qui seraient en mesure de me fournir des données pour m’aider à fixer les priorités des artistes utilisant le verre dans leur travail. Mon enquête comprend sept petites questions concernant le genre et la quantité de verre à fondre,  les qualités principales recherchées dans le verre, vos méthodes de colorations et votre consommation d’énergie. Si vous souhaitez participer à cette étude, contactez moi sur jonathan.pischner@farbglashutte.de et je vous enverrai le sondage. Il peut être réalisé en ligne ou à l’aide de Microsoft Word. Farbglashütte utilisera les informations que j’aurai rassemblées afin de déterminer à quelles propriétés les artistes accordent le plus d’importance dans leur utilisation du verre.

Récemment, j’ai reçu un mail d’une artiste verrière qui me confiait que “de faire du verre ne pourrait jamais aider à protéger l’environnement – car il est symbole de luxe, de richesse et d’extravagance.” J’espère que la première partie de sa déclaration est erronée. Evidemment, créer du verre nécessite des ressources comme pour n’importe quelle autre industrie. Cependant, j’ai la certitude que chacun d’entre nous, qu’importe notre choix de carrière, peut trouver des façons de réduire sa consommation d’énergie, sa production de déchets, et sa nocivité à l’environnement. J’espère que le verre-K sera l’un des moyens d’atteindre ce but.

by Brad Copping

I did a lot of thinking about the Glass Art Association of Canada before I stepped up as president; what it means, what it can be, and this upcoming conference in Montreal has got me thinking about the community part of that again.

This is a community of people who have a passion involving glass, (a community which is represented by the material and not the passion) which is separated by such large distances that it is only at events like this conference that we are able to physically get together.   They may not be part of the very small community that exists around us as we go about our ‘day to day’, but then that might be a good thing.  I guess what I’m getting at is that we are all a part of different communities and they vary greatly in size and intensity, from the most intimate one, all under the same roof; to the one around a particular glass furnace, set of kilns, or a particular gallery (or coffee shop or bar or hardware store); to the ones that connect us with people we rarely see, but we relate to because of our ruling passions.   We are social beings who often need intense privacy.  Living rural allows me that privacy, but sometimes it makes me a little squirrelly and I need to connect with people who understand the passion, who are gripped by their own version of it, and who somehow, like myself, have used glass to mediate that passion.

Our 2010 Montreal Conference, Transparent Transformation/Transformation Transparente, brings together 3 Canadian artists who have used glass in making their work, and all of them have been awarded Canada’s highest official honour for following their passions.  I took this opportunity to ask Peter Powning, our key note speaker, Kevin Lockau, this year’s laureate of the GAAC Life time Achievement Award, and Ione Thorkelsson, the recipient of the 2010 Saidye Bronfman Award, for their thoughts about community and what it has meant to them.

Peter Powning

The photo of Peter in his studio was created by Greg Klassen and is shown here with his kind permission.

I live in many overlapping communities starting with “the community of one”, that overactive cast of characters in my head vying for attention.  As a rural artist I don’t have a community of fellow practitioners that I see regularly.  Events like conferences and symposia are gatherings of the tribe that provides a chance to maintain friendships, stimulate the creative juices and top up on technical knowledge.  I get a nice sense of belonging at these events where we all have so much in common.  There is a generosity of spirit, mutual respect and understanding as well as a readiness to have a good time that I really value.

The other communities that I rely on are family, our rural hamlet, and a huge range of local and scattered friends.  Our local pub, 16 kilometers away in the county market town of Sussex is another essential community in my life.  Late Friday afternoon people from the hinterland gather to have a pint or two of local brew, swap yarns and laugh at and with each other.  It’s a great way to wind down.

I now also seem to have an internet community that consists of a motley array of old friends and new, some of them I’ve never laid eyes on.  I keep in touch with people I only see at SOFA who live in Australia, England, California etc.  The internet provides a way to keep in touch with friends is a real benefit despite its myriad other distractions.

I’ve wasted a lot of time in my life wishing for the perfect community where all the great people I know would come together and do things right.  I think I’ve come to realize that no such place can exist and that many friendships rely on distance to make them work.  I think it’s also important to be rubbing up against people with diverse opinions, occupations and abilities.  Valuing the communities that we’ve got can be a chore, but I’ve found that being engaged with them gives me a deeper understanding of who I am and the value of belonging.

Kevin Lockau

Kevin Lockau on the edge of Georgian Bay

Communities define who I am.  There was the Sheridan community, the community of Bancroft, my neighbours and the community of family.  When talking gardening or the weather or next winter’s wood with my neighbours, I feel part of that community.  I am a local.  That is my existence at that moment defined.  When I am carving stone, or talking to other carvers, I am being defined by that activity not only by others but also by myself.  The communities are circles, defined areas and they overlap for sure, but whom I see myself as at this moment is related to the circle that I am walking in and the circles, which overlap it.

I think the Sheridan glass community was a very defining and consuming one, and eventually I needed an escape to privacy (and a reality check).  I have always had it in my mind to be less attached to the material than for a passion for making.  The technical shop talk so easily a badge of the blower or studio owner was never one that I could contribute to or want to partake in.  As a contrast, the stone sculptors I have associated with seldom if ever held court on technical matters. Perhaps this is the nature of the beast.  I keep thinking of Erwin Eisch’s comment about his art being in painting on glass because his family did it, the town factory survived on it, and this is what one did.  Most of us have the options presented by a full palette of materials to give expression.  I am discovering now just how wide ranging it actually is.

I find it helpful at times to understand the world by looking at society as a herd of grazing animals, a really large herd, constantly on the move, heads down.  And the artist is often the outsider – on the edge of the herd and the herd mentality.  The important idea in this metaphor is that from the edge, with some distance, the view of the herd dynamic is clearer and sometimes is understandable.  As well, you have an unobstructed view of the horizon’s potential.  While you can laugh off most irrelevant stampedes, being on the outside of the herd does leave you feeling vulnerable and solitary.  You seek autonomy, but the herd has its pull, its safety, and instinct tells the social animal to keep close.   However, you chose your distance, hone your survival skills, and see yourself as a visionary grazer.  Sometimes the outsider finds him or herself in a good grazing area, or standing where there is an especially stunning vantage point, and the herd envelops.  For the outsider, this is overwhelming, and she has to find the edge again, re-establish the comfort between the outer and inner edges.  In realizing that some of the herd was aware of her all along, that all herds produce edge animals or sentinels, and that they are a necessary part of the constantly changing and dynamic herd you can see that in all communities there is an important structure of support as well.  One does not feel alone struggling in the wilderness.  As social animals the need for that structure can sustain the herd.  And as always in a herd there are those that see themselves on the edge of it.

Ione Thorkelsson

I have always felt that I live on the periphery of many communities. Even in the most literal sense, I live on an escarpment, which is the dividing line between a French speaking community up the hill to the west and an English speaking community at the base of the escarpment to the east.  I am at home in both communities, but in both cases my place is on the edge not at the centre. Similarly I am at the edge of the Manitoba craft community.  The Manitoba Craft Council itself, of which I was a founding member in the early 70s, has always had to struggle to keep its centre, being made up of many scattered and independent crafts people.  I also find a sense of community with the multifarious Winnipeg/Manitoba visual arts scene which itself is driven by an odd but fertile creative dynamic that I suppose must also have something to do with a sense being distant from the centre.

So, in general, I am perfectly comfortable with my position relative to the Canadian glass community: being in the centre geographically, but for all practical purposes, being on the periphery.  This can be, in fact, a very advantageous place to find oneself.  I can visit as sort of a distant cousin in any of these communities.  Generally I am welcomed, sometimes I am only vaguely recognized, but I am able to gain access if only for a short time. From my first glass blowing workshop at Sheridan (taught by Clark Guettel, with Norman Faulkner as technician), I acquired contacts east and west. Back then, contact was by phone or letter (a memorable handwritten letter from Norman with sketches was the basis for my first glass furnace design). Now, with the internet, life on the periphery has become much, much easier. Glass, as you well know, has never been an easy material to work with and perhaps because of that it has attracted technically adventurous people. It is still evolving and there is always new information, new materials, and new techniques to work out. The internet, coupled with the openness of the Canadian glass community, keeps information available to me.

Part of Norman Faulkner's 1974 letter to Ione Thorkelsson

For Norman Faulkner’s complete letter follow this link.

There is however one major disadvantage to living on the periphery: not having answers to the questions you never thought to ask (the Rumsfeldian ‘unknown unknowns‘). Consequently, my techniques end up being rather unorthodox because I don’t actually see these things being done and no one who uses these techniques sees me work; so I fill in the blanks as best I can and hope for the best. It sometimes takes a long time to get results, and occasionally I discover something useful.

I have learned to live with and take advantage of life outside the known world. When I first decided to set up a studio here one of my main reasons was this very distance. I knew that whenever my muses speak to me, they whisper very quietly. I need quiet time and quiet space to hear them. That part seems to work for me, but having chosen a technically difficult material I still need the generosity of many communities to survive.

Many thanks to David James and Emma Quinn and the Ontario Craft Council for permission to reprint this article which first appeared in the Spring/Summer 2009 issue of Studio Magazine.

Kevin Lockau, Behavioral Studies of Tolerance, 2009. Sandcast glass, concrete, steel. 56 cm x 86 cm x 28 cm per coyote. Forged steel by Duerst. Photo: T.H. Wall, Studio 105 Photography.

Kevin Lockau, winner of this year’s Saidye Bronfman Award, creates art that is rough, uncompromising and very, very Canadian.

Kevin Lockau lives in a rugged wilderness that is iconically Canadian. His home sits atop the Canadian Shield. As a glass artist, he would love to have been alive a billion years ago, to stir the molten volcanic flows and fold them under with extreme pressure and then let glacial cold work gouge, push and reveal the rough beauty that envelopes his home at Hybla, north of Bancroft, Ontario.

The bedrock and its forest have always been grist for Lockau, who in late March received the Saidye Bronfman Award for Excellence in Fine Crafts, Canada’s foremost distinction for excellence in visual arts. The award is presented annually by the Governor General at Rideau Hall in Ottawa. “I’m honoured and humbled,” says Lockau, who quips that some of the $25,000 prize will go towards fixing a leaky roof.

The Saidye Bronfman award recognizes Kevin’s singular talent, both as an artist and an educator. He taught cold working and hot casting for some 20 years at Sheridan College and has lectured on art and glass throughout Europe and North America. When Sir Sanford Fleming College introduced a glass blowing program at its Haliburton School of the Arts, Lockau was on its founding advisory committee and taught there for three years. He has exhibited internationally and his cast works, some of which use techniques unlike those of any other artist, are on display in the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts and the Musée des Arts Decoratifs in Lausanne, Switzerland.

Lockau won the Best of Show Award at the 1985 Canadian Glass Conference. Numerous national and international awards and scholarships have followed that first award.

Prominent glass art collectors, Anna and Joe Mendel of Montréal, admire Lockau’s work for its “substance, language, meaning, and its social and historical commentary about what we are doing to our earth.”

Kevin, born in 1956 in Halifax, fondly recalls looking forward to “more trees and more hills” during his family’s summer pilgrimages from the naval base to his grandparents’ riding stable in Kitchener. As a Cub and then a Queen scout, summer camp gave him further immersion in nature.

When he was fifteen, his family moved to Kitchener and Lockau had his horse year round. With the hope of becoming a veterinarian, he later enrolled in the Agricultural College at University of Guelph. Admittedly “not a good student,” he graduated with a general B.Sc. in animal science. He immediately found a job at a nearby industrial hog operation. While he liked working and living on the hog farm, after four years he left to pursue painting, which had come to consume his evenings.

Kevin Lockau, Breath - Inhale, 2007. Sandcast glass, Lake Superior sand and stone, oak. 178 cm x 53 cm x 36 cm. Photo: T.H. Wall, Studio 105 Photography.

In 1982, Lockau entered the Ontario College of Art with a goal: become an illustrator. Instructor Stuart Werle quickly turned him on to 3D design and sculpture but he became intrigued with glass when he saw second year student Alfred Engerer ladling glass into a sand mould at a college open house. The next year, Lockau was one of nine students vying for one of eight spots in the glass program. The part-time program head, Karl Schantz, reviewed everyone’s sketchbooks. Lockau made the cut and entered his future.

“It was a cauldron of talented people given free rein. We weren’t shown how to blow glass. Schantz came over from his own studio about one day per week. We were doing experimental arts, gaining experience with glass, welding and foundry work.”

Lockau’s first formal commission came while he was a student. It is a clear, colourless piece that he blew into a plaster mould to create the form of a barn. He painted on black text that describes the clash between city and rural ethics. Kevin chuckles as he recalls that it was for the head office of McDonald’s Restaurants of Canada.

Transparent, flame-polished, colourful variations of blown vessels represent an aesthetic that never appealed to Lockau. “It’s just not me. I’m the kind of guy who likes to dig in the earth, get shit on my hands. That appeals to my sensibility.” His first sculpture was window glass fused over a shard of quartzite rock from the Canadian Shield. Unwittingly, it became a combination that now preoccupies him.

After graduation, Lockau taught part-time at Sheridan College and started a four-year residency at the Harbourfront Glass Studio, an important incubator for many Canadian glass blowers. “Being a part-time instructor gave me the financial freedom to experiment, to take risks not possible when running a business. The best thing to do is teach or pump gas!” He taught, used the facilities and took advantage of free time to broaden his experience.

Lockau sought out opportunities to grow through collaboration. In 1987, he attended the Pilchuck Glass School, north of Seattle, Washington, where artists from around the world come together to share their knowledge and experiment with masters. Lockau spent four summers with groundbreaking innovators such as the doyens of Czech casting, the husband-and-wife team Stanislav Libensky and Jaroslava Brychtova, and the Swedish sand caster, Bertil Vallien. Lockau says the experience greatly expanded his appreciation for “what the casting process could do.”

A similar transformation came during a month-long stone-carving symposium with the Inuit of Iqaluit on Baffin Island in 2000. Previously, he focused mostly on relief carving and kept it separate from his glasswork. “I now started thinking in 3D for the sculptural stone pieces, and that’s when the two materials came together.”

A Christmas casting course critique at Sheridan created another artistic breakthrough. He volunteered his own pieces for discussion. Encouraged by his openness, the students enthusiastically told him to “go big or go home!” back to his studio and make it happen. That was when “what looked like road kill came to life” as timber wolves and coyotes. The life-size sculptures consist of solid cast or sand blown hollow pieces. The voids may contain pieces of pink insulation to resemble flesh. Tufts of dark hair stand out eerily from black areas. “The series challenges people to consider their relationship with the animals,” Lockau explains.

“The effect is hauntingly provocative”, says Megan Lafrenière, co-owner of the Ottawa glass gallery, Lafrenière & Pai Gallery. “The animals have become signature works.”

Lockau has developed a casting process that mimics the creation of the Canadian Shield. Drawing on forays into the bush and further afield, he brings back rocks, gravel, coloured sands and organic material. They go into works that “express the idea of the earth as a living other, which is in part our own skin of existence,” Lockau says, adding, “they are not landscape portraits.”

Kevin Lockau, Bustards, 2007. Sandcast glass, concrete, forged steel, wood. 30 cm x 76 cm x 20 cm. Photo: T.H. Wall, Studio 105 Photography.

Kevin has given them titles such as Breath – Inhale, Conception, Resurrection, Annunciation and Do Unto Others. He acknowledges these appear to have Christian origins, yet for him the sculptures strongly suggest “spiritual animism.”

Concerned about the environmental impact of creating glass art, Lockau uses the dirty glass dregs at the bottom of crucibles. Instead of throwing it out, “molten glass is ladled onto piles of coloured sands and rocks that are scooped up with shovels and unceremoniously dumped onto each other in a rocking olivine sand mould. Mixing sticks flare like torches. The air is filled with steam, smoke and the stench of hot sands.”

Lockau’s use-or-abuse of glass is atypical. “I use qualities of glass that most people do not play with: the molten flow, the cracks from internal tensions, bubbles and the effects of burning out foreign materials.” The result “is no clubhouse sandwich with everything parallel!” When it cools, Kevin flips the piece onto the studio floor. “Loose sand falls away to reveal beautiful folding and fluidity!” Then the cutting, polishing and assembly of his final sculptures begin.

Elena Lee of Montreal, owner of the eponymous glass gallery, which is the oldest in Canada, says, “Kevin Lockau’s work is the most Canadian of Canadians. His represents the land like no other. It’s rough and uncompromising as is the country itself.”

Author David James is a sculptor and cast glass artist. Lafreniere & Pai Gallery nominated Lockau for this year’s Saidye Bronfman Award.

For more information visit:

www.davidjamesglass.com

www.lapaigallery.com

www.craft.on.ca

www.studiomagazine.ca

www.studio105photography.com

Carole Frève, Balançoire no1. (2007), verre soufflé, thermoformé et électroplaqué, cuivre. Crédit Michel Dubreuil.

Une ancienne caserne de pompiers désaffectée située quelque part entre deux ponts dans une zone semi-industrielle est depuis vingt-cinq ans un laboratoire effervescent consacré au verre d’art. Ici, on préconise un système où l’élève et la matière, l’expérimentation et l’apprentissage sont au centre de l’exercice. Cette confrontation continuelle entre le savoir et le faire, le pourquoi et le comment, alimente et renouvelle constamment le processus créatif. Processus encadré par un souci de transmission rigoureuse de connaissances spécifiques à la discipline.

On apprend et expérimente lors du programme de formation de trois ans diverses méthodes de fabrication d’objets variés en verre. Ceux-ci s’inscrivent dans des créneaux qui vont de la pièce utilitaire aux œuvres d’expression libre, du verre soufflé au thermoformage par exemple.

Loin d’être bucolique, le lieu est néanmoins plus que convenable, efficace : les nombreux ateliers propres, méticuleusement propres, et adéquatement équipés occupent trois étages. Une galerie et des vitrines où se succèdent des expositions, ainsi qu’une bibliothèque spécialisée bien garnie s’ajoutent au complexe immobilier autosuffisant pour l’enseignement de cet art du feu.

La diffusion des travaux exécutés par les élèves diplômés constitue un aspect essentiel de la formation offerte à Espace VERRE. En plus d’être présentées régulièrement dans les vitrines destinées à cette fin et dans la galerie de l’institution, presque chaque année leurs œuvres sont exposées dans des milieux professionnels reconnus, galeries d’art ou centres d’artistes, rendant tout à fait concrets les liens production et marketing.

Donald Robertson, Miel. (2007), Pâte de cristal et cire perdue, (dimensions 34 x 41 x 37 cm). Crédit : Donald Robertson

À Montréal, l’existence depuis trente-trois ans d’une galerie commerciale consacrée principalement à la promotion et à la diffusion du verre d’art constitue un atout important qui a soutenu et influencé cette discipline. N’oublions pas que plusieurs enseignants et diplômés de chez Espace VERRE font partie des artistes représentés par la Galerie Elena Lee. Non négligeables non plus sont les collections de verre en montre au Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal et particulièrement les espaces consacrées aux œuvres contemporaines. Ces lieux sont des sources opportunes où peuvent puiser les verriers et qui surtout valorisent la discipline aux yeux du grand public.

Conçu dès son origine comme un site d’expérimentation et d’apprentissage par François-Houdé et Ronald Labelle, des fondateurs visionnaires, Espace VERRE est heureusement resté fidèle à sa mission originale et a aussi élargi son mandat considérablement. Non seulement est-il une école atelier exemplaire, mais aussi il s’agit depuis son origine d’un pôle majeur d’échanges constants entre maîtres et élèves, entre résidents locaux et visiteurs étrangers, entre artisans et artistes. Une source d’émulation continuelle tout à fait bienfaisante et excitante. Il s’agit sans doute de la facette la plus remarquable du programme pédagogique développé, amélioré et soutenu sans réserve par l’école tout au long de son existence. La participation des élèves et des professeurs à des symposiums internationaux est courante et encouragée.

Lorsque l’on considère le corpus d’œuvres fabriquées par le groupe de maîtres verriers tous praticiens qui enseignent ici, la caractéristique première qui s’en dégage est la contemporanéité des démarches. Actuelles et compétentes, elles s’insèrent parfaitement dans le panorama du verre international d’aujourd’hui, qu’il s’agisse des sculptures à caractère mythologique de Donald Robertson, des intégrations à l’architecture de Michèle Lapointe, ou des formes de contenants sculpturaux en techniques mixtes de Carole Frève. La gamme de leurs réalisations est variée ce qui offre aux élèves de nombreuses possibilités quant à leurs propres interventions plastiques.

Susan Edgerley, Unfurl (2008). Verre façonné à la flamme (dimensions H : 168 cm x 213 cm largeur x 13 cm pro). Crédit Michel Dubreuil

Unique en Amérique du Nord, l’atelier Fusion créé par Susan Edgerley, est réservé aux diplômés du programme, un lieu particulier voué à soutenir la relève en simulant une expérience de production, de mise en marché et de recherches formelles variées.

À ce jour, cent vingt-deux élèves ont terminé leurs périodes d’études pratiques exigées, dont quatre-vingt-neuf femmes et trente-trois hommes. Autre statistique intéressante et tout à fait concluante, soixante-trois d’entre eux, soit presque la moitié des diplômés, sont toujours actifs à temps plein ou partiel. La jeune génération se distingue notamment à l’étranger par les Sylvie Bélanger, Maude Bussières, Annie Cantin, Carole Frève, Catherine Labonté, Patrick Primeau, Stephen Pon, Cathy Strokowsky, pour ne nommer que ceux-là.

Par ailleurs, chaque année des maîtres-verriers sont invités à transmettre leur connaissance lors de stages de perfectionnement réservés aux verriers professionnels. Venus du Canada anglais, des États-Unis, d’Europe, d’Australie; comme Lino Tagiapietta d’Italie, David Reekie d’Angleterre, ou Philip Baldwin de Suisse. Ils ont tous séjourné à Espace VERRE afin d’animer des « master classes » de haut calibre.

Cette ouverture sur le monde, peut-être devrait-on écrire les mondes, est la base de la formation atypique offerte ici. Ce modèle pédagogique dynamique a emprunté, entre autres, certaines pratiques didactiques au niveau d’enseignement supérieur américain, et donne des résultats étonnants, vingt-cinq ans de surprises et de succès louables.

Un quart de siècle de cheminement mérite manifestement d’être souligné et célébré  Cette réussite impose également un regard objectif sur le futur si la mission de l’école veut demeurer pertinente. L’obsolescence guette tout programme d’enseignement s’il est laissé à lui-même.

Michèle Lapointe, Alice, Lorina, Édith et les autres (2006) détail, verre soufflé et photographies. Crédit René Rioux

La virtuosité est un atout  irréfutable. Malgré cela, elle peut devenir un handicap si la prouesse technique s’impose comme raison d’être principale de l’œuvre. Dans une telle éventualité, celle-ci perdrait malheureusement son âme.

Un grand défi déterminera l’avenir du verre d’art au Québec et d’Espace VERRE. C’est qu’après une formation solide où l’acquisition d’un savoir-faire basé sur l’émulation est prioritaire, il faudrait absolument que les protagonistes puissent et soient incités désormais à élargir leurs univers spécifiques dans un environnement  universitaire, afin que les prochaines décennies débordent non seulement de créativité, mais aussi d’innovations.

Léopold Foulem est reconnu pour ses talents d’éducateur, de rédacteur, de conférencier et par-dessus tout d’artiste. Il a reçu le prix national Jean A. Chalmers de métiers d’art en 1998, et le Prix Saydie Bronfman en 2001. En 2003, il recevait le prestigieux prix culturel Acadien. Il est parmi les premiers céramistes canadiens présent dans les collections du Victoria And Albert Museum de Londres, en Angleterre, et du Musée Gardiner. Il partage son temps entre sa ville natale de Caraquet au Nouveau-Brunswick et Montréal, et un horaire bien rempli d’expositions internationales.

Espace VERRE rénove actuellement son bâtiment et recevra le congrès de l’Association du verre d’art canadien en 2010, tandis que les musées montréalais présenteront d’avril à décembre 2010 des expositions sur le thème du verre. 2010, Montréal, ville de verre.

www.espaceverre.qc.ca

Espace VERRE, the old Fire Hall #21

By Leopold L. Foulem

For the past twenty-five years, an old abandoned fire station, situated somewhere between two bridges in a semi-industrial zone, has become an effervescent laboratory devoted to glass art. It has been the constant proponent of a system whereby the student and the material, experimentation and training are at the heart of the mission. This continuous confrontation between knowledge and know-how, questions of why and how-to, constantly fuels and renews the creative process, all the while maintained by a rigorous process of transmitting pertinent and specific information.

During the three-year educational program, the students learn and experiment with an array of techniques used to make glass pieces. These can range from the most utilitarian objects to freeform structures, and can be the result of any or several processes, from blown glass to kiln work. Far from being bucolic, the set up is nevertheless convenient, even efficient. The meticulously clean and well-equipped studios are distributed amongst the three floors, interspersed by a gallery space and a comprehensive specialized library, making this a self-sufficient location to provide an incomparable education in this fiery art form. Visibility and promotion are essential aspects of the services Espace VERRE offers its graduates. In addition to being shown regularly in the institution’s own gallery and its glass showcases, almost each year their work is also included in exhibitions in professional art galleries or art centres, making all the more concrete the links between production and marketing.

For the past thirty-three years, a Montreal based commercial gallery has devoted itself to promoting and showing glass art, while constituting an important benefactor, sponsor and influence for this field. Significantly, Galerie Elena Lee represents many of Espace VERRE’s teaching staff and graduates. Also worth mentioning are the glass collections now being exhibited by the Montréal Museum of Fine Arts, most notably the spaces devoted to contemporary works. These institutions are providing welcome opportunities for glass artists, while promoting glass art to the general public.

Conceived from the start, by its visionary founders François Houdé and Ronald Labelle, as a place of experimentation and education, Espace VERRE has managed to stay faithful to its original mission while broadening its mandate considerably. As an exemplary school/studio, it has always been an important hub for exchange between masters and students, local residents and foreign visitors, artisans and artists, and has become a generator of exciting and beneficial emulation. This is without a doubt the most remarkable facet of the educational program that has been developed, improved and supported by the school throughout its existence. Furthermore, thanks to the encouragement of Espace VERRE, both students and instructors are frequent participants in international conferences. While reflecting on the body of work of the practicing glass masters that form the teaching staff, one is struck by the contemporaneity of their processes. Modern and demonstrative of greatly refined skill, their work earns a distinguished place in the great panorama of international glass art, be it Donald Robertson’s mythological sculptures, Michèle Lapointe’s architectural integrations or Carole Frève’s mixed media sculpted vessels. This spectrum of varied and accomplished work provides the students with great inspiration and incentive to create their own artistic work.

Unique in North America, the Fusion:Transitional workshop was created by Susan Edgerley to support the emerging artists of Espace VERRE’s glass program. It provides opportunities to acquire production experience, marketing skills, and further their research. To this day, one hundred and twenty-two students have completed the requirements of the glass program, including eighty-nine of whom were women and thirty-three men. Another interesting and very conclusive statistic, sixty-three, or almost half, of these graduates are still involved in glass arts, whether full or part time. Some of the distinguished members of the younger generations to have succeeded abroad are Sylvie Bélanger, Maude Bussières, Annie Cantin, Carole Frève, Catherine Labonté, Patrick Primeau, Stephen Pon and Cathy Strokowsky, to name just a few. Every year, master glass artists are invited to Espace VERRE to share their prestigious skills by offering specialized workshops to professional glass artists. Some of these artists come from the English speaking parts of Canada, the United-States, Europe, Australia, etc., such as Lino Tagiapietra from Italy, David Reekie from England, or Philip Baldwin from Switzerland.

The broadening of our view on the world, or should I say worlds, is at the core of the atypical education offered by Espace VERRE. This dynamic pedagogical model has borrowed, amongst others, some of the didactic methods of American universities, and still gives surprising results, twenty-five years worth of surprises and commendable success. A quarter-century of progression merits being highlighted and celebrated. This success also reinforces the importance of objectively evaluating the future direction of the school, especially if it is to remain relevant. Any educational program left to rest on its laurels too long can quickly become obsolete.

Virtuosity cannot be denied as essential, but it easily becomes a handicap. If technical prowess establishes itself as the principal “raison d’être” for an artist’s work, the result may be that it will loose any inkling of soul it may have possessed.

A great challenge will play a determining role for the future of glass art in Québec and for Espace VERRE: following the completion of a solid education, wherein learning by emulation is prioritized, it becomes absolutely necessary that all protagonists be able to, and incited to, broaden the scope of their ambition in a university setting. This is the only way to assure that the next decades will not only overflow with creativity, but also with innovation.

Léopold L. Foulem has been recognized for his prodigious talents as an educator, writer, lecturer and, above all, as an artist. He received the Jean A. Chalmers National Crafts Award in 1999 and the Saidye Bronfman Award, in 2001. In 2003, he received the Prix Éloize, a prestigious Acadian cultural award. He is among the first Canadian ceramists to have his work collected by the Victoria and Albert museum in London, England and the Gardiner Museum in Toronto, Ontario. He divides his time between teaching fine arts in Montréal, Québec, working in his studio in his hometown of Caraquet, New Brunswick, and a busy international exhibition schedule. Espace VERRE will be hosting the Glass Art Association of Canada Conference in May 2010, while Montreal Museums will present exhibitions on glass from April to December 2010, for 2010, Montreal, City of Glass.

www.espaceverre.qc.ca

communication@espaceverre.qc.cq

Espace VERRE Celebrates with a Grand Re-Opening Friday, November 1, 2009

Craft at Harbourfront Centre is the dynamic axis for contemporary craft in Canada and an integral part of the country’s largest public multi-disciplinary arts complex. Harbourfront Centre champions the significance of craft as an art discipline and cultivates excellence, nationally and internationally. Through exhibitions, thought-provoking symposia and lectures, they communicate new ideas and strive to shape perceptions about contemporary craft. They advocate collaboration between craft, design and art disciplines. Craft at Harbourfront Centre offers the only national, post-graduate programme of its kind in Canada that catalyzes artists to explore, pursue and accelerate their artistic potential in a comprehensive artist-in-residency programme and ideal studio environments. They commit to artists through generous subsidy and deliver access to beneficial artistic resources and conditions.

www.harbourfrontcentre.com

Arron Lowe - Malignant or Benign - 2009. Trans–exhibition installation (each vitrine 1mx1m). Blown and sand-cast glass, copper, acrylic. W 295 cm x H 80 cm x D 50 cm.

Arron Lowe www.arronlowe.com

Arron graduated with honours from Sheridan College’s Craft and Design program and received an undergraduate degree from the University of Ottawa in Classical Studies and, subsequently, a Masters degree from the University of Toronto in Ancient Art History. Arron’s most recent project, Trans, consists of a site-specific installation whose core concept is an examination of beauty.

Aaron Oussoren - Give & Take - 2008. Cut and kiln-formed glass. H 14 x W 120 cm.

Aaron Oussoren www.aaronoussoren.com /   www.timidglass.ca

Aaron graduated from the Craft & Design program at Sheridan College in 2008. He draws upon his experiences, conversations with others, and open spaces. Printmaking, writing, photography, and glass-working are the techniques he employs when distilling an object from an Idea. Recently, Aaron paired with Sally McCubbin to form ‘TIMID glass’ a design label which produces progressive, functional, and thoroughly Canadian objects.

Brad Turner - Contour Bowls - 2009. Hand blown glass, cut, ground and finished. Largest bowl - 26 cm diameter.

Brad Turner www.glassturner.ca

Native to Calgary, Brad earned his BFA from the Alberta College of Art + Design. He creates a mix of sculptural and functional glass objects with a strong focus on conceptual originality, diversity, and clean design. Maintaining an honest use of material, Brad’s glasswork seeks to elevate the medium’s unique characteristics, whether it is the rare combination of strength and fragility, the unmistakable relationship with light and optics, or its storied roots in vessel-making and functional design.

Benjamin Kikkert - Granite Pools - 2008. Sea Lion Point Installation in Situ at Open Bay, Quadra Island, B.C. Blown and hot- sculpted glass. Various dimensions.

Benjamin Kikkert www.benjaminkikkert.com

Benjamin graduated from Sheridan College’s Craft and Design program. From the waters of oceans and lakes to the geology of tectonic plates, Benjamin draws inspiration from the forces that shape these places. He creates objects layered with texture and form that allude to different histories and environments. He describes these objects as marine artifacts and landscapes. Barnacles and seaweeds, encrusted bottles, floats and rock textures synonymous with tidal strata reflect his upbringing in Vancouver.

Einav Mekori - Cases of Vanity – medium pocket watch - 2008. Blown, cut and sand-blasted glass, brass, chain. H 10 x W 10 x D 5 cm.

Einav Mekori

A native of Israel, Einav initially studied sculpture at the Bezalel Academy of Art and Design in Jerusalem. Having moved to Canada in 2004, she subsequently graduated from Sheridan College’s Craft and Design program. Among her years as a professional glass artist, her works have been featured in several exhibitions around the world. Her current work is influenced by the rich visualization of Victorian styles, and draws inspiration from jewellery and wallpaper designs.

Clayton Haigh - Hive Tumbler Set - 2009. Mold-blown glass and wood. L 25cm, w 15cm, h 25cm.

Clayton Haigh

Clayton graduated from Sheridan College’s Craft and Design program. His design company, Balance Glassworks, specializes in simple, smartlydesigned glass objects for the home. Under his own name, Clayton experiments with the sculptural properties of glass striving to create raw, organic forms that convey a sense of emotion to the viewer.

Rachel Robichaud - Unititled - 2009. Blown, hot-sculpted and kiln-cast glass, wood. 29cm H x 34 cm W x 22cm D.

Rachel Robichaud www.rachelrobichaud.com

Rachel graduated from Sheridan College’s Craft and Design program. She sees glass as the perfect medium to pursue the idea of containers and containment. She combines functional and sculptural forms with mixed media and other found objects to create a playground of opportunity for juxtaposed elements to reside. In recent work Rachel taps into the assumptions and preconceptions that we float in day to day. She alternately finds them endearing, flawed, treasured and absurd.

Irene Frolic, Adviser to the Glass Studio - Autumn Gold - 2008. Lost wax kiln-cast glass. 56 x 23 x 23 cm.

Irene Frolic RCA (Adviser to the Glass Studio)

Irene has created kiln-cast sculpture from her studio in Toronto for over 20 years. Her work is shown internationally and is held in numerous public museums and private collections. The early figurative work dealt with the crust of the glass and was noted for its emotional impact and its exploration of personal history. In her newer work, Irene explores the more formal aspects of glass - its ability to carry light and colour - and has finally abandoned herself to its beauty.

Irene Frolic, Time Held Me Green and Dying, 1996

By Robert Geyer

Living Glass History is a glass history course at Alberta College of Art + Design (ACAD) that uses the internet and video conferencing technology to allow students to interact in real time with artists who have made significant contributions to advancing the Glass Studio Movement. Instructor Robert Geyer developed the course with funding from the Marion Fund for Innovation in Education. Living Glass History is unique because its existence as a department in art schools is relatively new. It is a “seventies thing” and the history of it was (and still is) more about living it than documenting it. It is an oral history and the only way to tap into it is to talk first-hand with the people who made and are making it.

Le cours Living Glass History, offert au Alberta College of Art + Design (ACAD), utilise Internet et la vidéoconférence pour permettre aux étudiants d’interagir en temps réel avec des artistes ayant contribué au développement du verre d’art. J’ai développé ce cours grâce au soutien du Marion Fund for Innovation in Education. Ce cours est unique en son genre et cela n’existait pas, jusqu’à tout récemment, en tant que département dans une école d’art. Puisque le verre d’art remonte aux années 70 son histoire a été et est encore en marche plutôt que d’être documentaire. Il s’agit donc d’une histoire orale et la seule façon de la documenter c’est par des contacts avec ceux qui ont participé et participe encore. Comme la plupart des artistes, qui ont fait avancer le Studio Glass Movement, sont encore vivants, le cours Living Glass History est une excellente occasion pour les étudiants d’ACAD d’apprendre sur le verre en entrant en contact avec des artistes par la vidéoconférence.

Since most of the people involved in the impetus of the Studio Glass Movement are still alive, Living Glass History was a perfect way for glass students at ACAD to learn the history of their medium through interactive real time videoconferences. On February 23, 2009, Geyer and his students interviewed Irene Frolic. She is truly one of the most important people of our Studio Movement. Frolic has used glass to make sculpture for over twenty years and she has an innate understanding of its unique and powerful nature. Her work makes succinct, timely comments on the ideas of art and personal history, the interdependence of beauty and decay and the links between psychology and geology.

Le 23 février 2009, avec mes étudiants, nous avons interviewé Irene Frolic. Elle est vraiment l’une des figures importantes du mouvement d’art verrier canadien. Depuis plus de vingt ans, Irene Frolic incorpore le verre dans ses sculptures. Elle possède une compréhension innée de la nature unique et puissante du verre. Ses œuvres font référence, de façon brève et pertinente, à ses idées sur l’art, à son histoire personnelle, à l’interdépendance entre beauté et décadence, et font des liens entre la psychologie et la géologie.

Preparation for the interviews follows a format that tries to be open ended rather than restrictive in understanding the work of each artist. First, each student does a 3-4 page research paper. The idea is to give each student enough background information about the artist so that they can effectively engage in the dialogue of question development for the interviews. A very close look at the work, artist statements and what art critics have written about the artists is very important to the paper. Frolic submitted photos of her old and new work for analysis. The research papers are discussed and the class spends several hours developing the questions. Each student edits his or her questions one more time.

Pour préparer chaque entrevue, nous suivons une démarche en ouverture plutôt que restrictive afin de mieux saisir le travail de création. D’abord, chaque étudiant doit compléter une recherche de trois ou quatre pages afin de porter un regard minutieux sur les œuvres, la démarche artistique et les critiques publiées. Cela donne plus d’informations de base et facilite le développement des questions durant les entrevues. Avant de faire l’entrevue, Irene Frolic a soumis plusieurs photos d’œuvres anciennes et récentes pour permettre à la classe de les analyser, de discuter de leurs recherches, de développer et de réviser leurs questions pendant plusieurs heures.

The following are excerpts from the interview with Frolic and the ACAD Living Glass History class.

Ce texte est un extrait de l’entrevue entre Irene Frolic et la classe du cours Living Glass History (ACAD).

(For the complete transcript please go to our Bonus pages)

Irene Frolic, Vivid Blues with Black and Amber, 2004

Tina Tremblay: My question is who is your favorite artist today and why?

Frolic: I’ve chosen two people – one of whom is an old chestnut, Picasso, you’ll be surprised to hear, and the other is Lucian Freud. Why Picasso? Such a standard. One of the reasons I admire Picasso is not so much for the constant of his work really, but the fact that he was able to reinvent himself over and over and over again over a very long, period of art making. I think it’s very hard. I think art comes as sort of bursts and gusts. I like to call these sort-of ten-year cycles. An artist usually has one ten-year cycle in which they have some kind of an inspiration. They work it through, they understand it, they reach a pinnacle and then it sort of tapers off. Maybe a slightly better artist can do it twice in a couple often-year cycles. But Picasso was able to do it so many times and even as a very old man (I think in his 80′s, I think he was, or his 70′s) he was able still to find the strength and the fire of creativity in him to push through for yet another body of work. It’s very hard to make a body of work. You have to think about it a long time. You have to express it and to be able to do that over and over and over again – it is really the mark of a great genius, I think. So, that’s why I chose Picasso. Lucian Freud, as you know is a wonderful portrait artist – a contemporary portrait artist who lives in London. And I absolutely adore looking at his work. He paints like a sculptor. He layers things. He forces you to really, really look at his character and you know that he is as an artist who is really, really looking. And that’s the most important thing for an artist and I think he does that really well. And I think for those reasons those are the two artists I admire, at least today. Maybe next week, I’ll think of someone else. I also like very quiet artists like Agnes Martin.

Tina Tremblay : Quel est actuellement votre artiste préféré et pourquoi ?

Irene Frolic : J’ai choisi deux artistes, l’un est un vieux routier, Picasso, cela vous surprend sûrement, et l’autre est Lucian Freud. Pourquoi Picasso ? Un choix classique. Une des raisons pourquoi j’admire Picasso, ce n’est pas vraiment pour la persévérance dans son travail, mais plutôt parce qu’il a su réinventer sa démarche artistique plusieurs fois. Je ne crois pas que cela soit une chose facile. D’après moi, l’art sort en jets, en rafales. J’aime les appeler, en quelque sorte, des cycles de dix ans. Généralement, lorsqu’un artiste trouve l’inspiration pendant ce cycle de dix ans, il essai de comprendre et atteint son sommet, puis décline. Un excellent artiste pourrait faire cela deux fois en quelques cycles de dix ans. Par contre, Picasso l’a fait plusieurs fois et même jusqu’à un âge avancé (je pense qu’il avait même 80 ou 70 ans). À ce moment de sa vie, il a su puiser en lui la flamme de la créativité pour créer une nouvelle série d’œuvres. Ce n’est pas facile de créer une nouvelle série d’œuvres, puisqu’il faut y réfléchir longtemps. Le refaire plusieurs fois est la marque d’un grand génie.

Lucian Freud, comme vous le savez déjà, est un excellent portraitiste, un peintre contemporain qui vit à Londres. J’adore regarder ses tableaux car il peint comme un sculpteur en plusieurs épaisseurs. Il nous force à vraiment, vraiment regarder son personnage, tout comme lui, en tant que peintre, il a vraiment, vraiment observé son modèle. Il maitrise très bien cette qualité primordiale chez un artiste.

C’est pour ces raisons que j’admire beaucoup ces deux artistes. C’est très possible que la semaine prochaine, je penserais à un autre artiste. Par exemple, j’aime aussi des artistes plus discrets comme Agnes Martin.

Irene Frolic, Icarus Dark, 2006

Heidi Holt: In your artist statement you talk about the connection in your work between the layered earth and the psychology of the human face. It feels that you are using this to capture the moment between the animate and inanimate in your work. Is this true?

Frolic: I think what I meant about that moment between animate and inanimate in that quote was that it was a moment of stillness that I was trying to capture – a moment of clarity. A moment that is torn between what was and what will be. That moment as of right now, as of right this moment that we are. I call that being inanimate when you’re nothing but just that moment of being there. Sort of pure being. And that’s what I try to capture and certainly tried to capture that in my earlier work. I used to say that my work was mute in the sense that it just sort of was there and there was nothing animate. As you see with the faces, there’s never any expression on them or anything like that. I wanted that expression to come from, in those early works, from the material itself – the metaphor of the glass looking all worn and beat-up as it were. I hope I’ve answered that question for you.

Heidi Holt : Dans votre démarche artistique, vous parlez d’un lien entre les strates de la terre et la psychologie du visage humain. Il semble que vous le faites pour capturer dans votre travail le moment entre l’animé et l’inanimé. Est-ce exact ?

Irene Frolic : Je crois que ce que j’ai voulu exprimer, lors de cette citation sur le moment entre l’animé et l’inanimé, c’est de capturer un moment de calme, un moment de clarté. Ce moment qui existe entre ce qui a été et ce qui sera. Le moment présent, à l’instant même. J’appelle cela être inanimé lorsqu’on existe seulement pour être là. C’est tout comme purement exister. C’est ce que j’ai voulu capturer dans mes premières œuvres. Je disais que mes œuvres étaient muettes en ce sens qu’elles étaient là, inanimées. Comme vous pouvez le constater leurs visages n’ont pas d’expression. Dans mes œuvres plus anciennes, je voulais plutôt que la matière détermine les expressions faciales. Une métaphore sur le verre qui est tout usé et cabossé. J’espère que j’ai répondu à votre question.

Robyn Weatherly: You state that “nothing should go unnoticed, everything should be touched.” What is the relationship between the ideas of tactility and memory in your work?

Frolic: That’s a very interesting question. When I talk about touch in that I don’t mean touch as merely the tactility of touching. What I meant was a touch that is moving you into the understanding of a subject or the taking on of a subject. And I feel that memory is what has been touched. Everything that you think of that you’ve touched is memory. So, I wasn’t really thinking of it in that tactile sense. I wrote somewhere once that memory is transformation and transformation is art. So what the artist has touched is what’s in the artist’s memory is what comes out. And I also wrote once, “Memory is the wound, transformation the healing, art the scars.” So, art is what comes out after you’ve touched your experience, so to speak, or understood it or loved or however you process it in any way – that is memory. And that’s what I meant by touch.

Robyn Weatherly : Vous déclarez que « rien ne devrait passer inaperçu, que tout devrait être touché ». Quelle est la relation entre l’idéologie tactile et la mémoire dans vos œuvres ?

Irene Frolic : C’est une question très intéressante. Lorsque je faisais allusion au toucher, je ne voulais pas seulement dire au sens tactile mais plutôt au sens d’être touché au point de mieux comprendre un sujet ou par la façon de l’aborder. Je crois que la mémoire est toujours touchée. En fait, tout ce que vous pensez avoir touché est aussi dans votre mémoire. Je ne faisais pas référence au sens tactile. J’ai déjà écrit quelque part que la mémoire est la transformation et la transformation c’est de l’art. Alors, tout ce qui touche l’artiste est dans sa mémoire et c’est ce qui en sortira. J’ai également écrit « la mémoire c’est la blessure, la transformation c’est la guérison et l’art c’est la cicatrice ». En quelques sortes, l’art est ce qui surgit lorsque vous avez été touché par une expérience, ce que vous avez compris, aimé ou toute autre façon de procéder. Cela fait partie de la mémoire. C’est ce que je voulais dire par toucher.

Jamie Gray: The transition in material usage, texture and colour in your work seems to parallel a journey taken through your own life. For instance, the early pieces seem tortured, dark; yet your newer work with the long necks and curvaceous faces references, on one level, the stems and buds of flowers. Does this progression in your work document a journey?

Frolic: A journey, yes, it certainly has been a journey. And I think my work, now that I look back at it, certainly documented a journey. It’s always easier to look back at something and put it back together. But I work very intuitively and when I’m working I don’t know until it’s all finished and I look back at it as to what I’ve done. But when I look back at the last twenty years or twenty-five years, it certainly was a journey. And as I said, when I first started, I felt very much as though I was going out there completely on my own: sort of a pioneer. It was still quite early on in the glass scene. We didn’t learn anything about kiln casting because everyone was interested in blowing. So as kiln-casters, we thought we were just inventing everything as we went along. And I also had this outpouring of feeling that I had when I started and at that time I didn’t want to take any responsibility at all for my work. So I would make the piece and then I would put in the window glass, put the copper in. I’ll talk to you later about that process. But I didn’t want to take any responsibility for what the piece looked like when it was finished. It was all so emotional that, as I said, I felt that something was passing through me and I was making work that I wasn’t responsible for, didn’t want to take responsibility for. So the colours came just because of the firing. I had no idea how things would look when it was finished. What it was that I was working through, as many of you know, is that I’m a Holocaust survivor and somehow this whole idea of glass and fires of annihilation and the fires in the kiln and everything, it just took hold of me and held me gently and fiercely for almost ten years while I worked through certain things in my work. There came a time, however, maybe ten years ago, when I felt I had said as much as I could say with that work, through my installations and the pedestal work as well. And I remember one day I was in Paris, and I had always gone to the Picasso museum to see all the figurative works that he had, all those tortured things, and I couldn’t go in. And I just had had enough of it and I somehow I put it away. And then I began to focus on Miro, and other work like that, that dealt with colour and line and form. That’ll come in later. So my newer work is much more designed, as you can probably figure out. There’s more of my hand on it actually, because of the cold working and it’s much more thought out. I choose how things are going to go. I don’t rely on accidents. If an accident happens, I think of it as a problem. I never used to think of it as a problem. I always thought of it as being a wonderful thing to happen. It has been a journey. I’ve been ill for the last few years. I think I’m coming out of a very bad time. And I wanted to make works of beauty, which I think I have, because I thought we need more of that and that’s helpful. I’ll talk about that later. So yes it has been a journey. And I guess in my work, I’m not really separating from my work. I guess I’m making work now that speaks more to me; that speaks to me as I always did. Only maybe I’m looking for different things now.

Jamie Gray : Il existe une transition dans la façon dont vous utilisez la texture et la couleur des matériaux dans votre travail et cela semble illustrer un parcours dans votre vie. Par exemple, vos premières œuvres semblent torturées et sombres tandis que les plus récentes, au long cou et au visage plantureux, semblent indiquer des tiges et des bourgeons de fleurs. Est-ce que la progression de vos œuvres illustre un parcours réel ?

Irene Frolic : Un parcours, en effet, cela a été tout un parcours. Avec le recul, je crois que mon travail illustre ce cheminement. C’est toujours plus facile de réfléchir sur quelque-chose avec du recul, pour reconstruire le passé dans sa tête. Cependant, je travaille de manière intuitive, sans jamais savoir ce que cela va donner à la fin. C’est en prenant du recul que je peux voir ce que j’ai accompli. En réfléchissant sur les 20 ou 25 dernières années, je peux constater que cela a été tout un parcours. Lorsque j’ai débuté, je me sentais vraiment laissé à moi-même, comme une sorte de pionnière. C’était le tout début des arts verriers. Nous n’apprenions rien sur le thermoformage puisque tout le monde voulait faire du verre soufflé. Nous, qui faisions du thermoformage, on apprenait et on inventait en le faisant. Il y avait beaucoup d’émotion au début car je ne voulais pas prendre de responsabilité pour mon travail. Pour terminer une pièce, j’y ajoutais du verre à vitre et du cuivre. Je vous donnerai les détails techniques, un peu plus tard. Je ne voulais surtout pas prendre de responsabilité sur l’aspect final de la pièce. C’était très émotif, comme je vous ai déjà dit. C’était comme si quelque chose me traversait et que je n’étais aucunement responsable. La cuisson déterminait les couleurs. Je ne me souciais pas du produit final. Je travaillais intérieurement.

Comme plusieurs d’entre vous le savez, je suis une survivante de l’Holocauste. Cette idée, qui englobait le verre, les feux annihilateurs et les feux dans les fours, s’est emprise de moi avec douceur et intensité. Pendant presque dix ans, je faisais le point sur certains détails de mon travail. Toutefois, il est arrivé un temps, il y a une dizaine d’années, où j’ai eu le sentiment d’avoir tout dit avec mon travail, mes installations ainsi que mes pièces sur socle. Je me souviens d’un jour lors d’un voyage à Paris où j’avais l’habitude de visiter le musée de Picasso pour voir ses pièces figuratives torturées. Cette fois-là, j’étais incapable d’y entrer, car j’en avais assez. J’ai pris la décision de mettre cela de côté. Je me suis plutôt concentrée sur l’étude des œuvres de Miro et d’autres artistes, pour leurs couleurs, leurs lignes et leurs formes. Je rentrerai dans les détails, plus tard.

Mon travail récent est plus stylisé, comme vous l’avez sûrement constaté. Il y a plus de travail manuel, surtout en verre à froid. Il est plus planifié, puisque je ne me fis plus aux accidents. S’il arrive un accident, je le perçois maintenant comme un problème. Ce qui n’avait jamais été le cas dans le passé, puisque j’étais toujours heureuse d’en rencontrer.

Ce fut tout un parcours. J’ai été malade au cours des dernières années et je ressors de ce mauvais moment. J’avais envie de faire de belles pièces, ce que je pense d’avoir réussi, puisqu’on en a toujours besoin pour notre bien être. J’irais dans les détails plus tard. En effet, ça été tout un parcours. Je crois que je suis inséparable de mon travail. Je crois que je fais des pièces qui me parlent d’avantage, comme je l’ai toujours fait. Toutefois, je ne recherche plus les mêmes choses qu’avant.

Irene Frolic, Winter Tale, 2007

Diana Fox: The gaze in your figurative sculptures is very interesting. Why are the eyes always cast downward or away from the viewer?

Frolic: That’s a good question. I am also interested in the gaze of the subject. There’s a reason why my heads are turned down and looking down. And I think it related to the fact that an artist has to look in and look out at the same time. So, the figures, by having their heads down are introspective and looking down into themselves and yet of course they’re looking out at the same time. So that’s important. They don’t doesn’t confront. They’re more introspective. So that’s that. And another reason is, I want the viewer to get up closer to it and I’ve sometimes seen, when my work is in galleries, that people bend down and look up in the face and I like that feeling that it draws the viewer in and it’s a moment of power for the artist when you can get somebody to get up really close and to take a very, very close look at the work. So that’s what I was thinking about, which is a very interesting question.

Diana Fox : Les regards de vos sculptures figuratives sont très intéressants. Pourquoi regardent-elles toujours vers le bas ou se détournent-elles du spectateur ?

Irene Frolic : C’est une très bonne question. Je m’intéresse beaucoup au regard du sujet. Je crois savoir pourquoi mes têtes sont inclinées et regardent vers le bas. Cela s’apparente au fait que les artistes doivent regarder simultanément à l’intérieur et à l’extérieur d’eux-mêmes. Alors, les sculptures aux têtes inclinées, qui semblent introspectives, regardent simultanément vers eux-mêmes et vers l’extérieur. C’est très important. Cela n’est pas dans un sens provocateur. Elles sont plutôt introspectives. C’est comme cela. Aussi, j’aime quand un spectateur s’approche d’une de mes sculptures. J’ai déjà observé, lors d’une exposition en galerie, des spectateurs s’approcher de très près de leurs visages. J’aime beaucoup le sentiment que mes sculptures attirent le spectateur. C’est un tour de force lorsqu’un artiste réussit à attirer l’attention du spectateur de très près et durant longtemps. Alors, c’est ce que je pense de cette très intéressante question.

Angela Bedard: During the Holocaust coloured inverted triangle badges were sewn on shirts to identify the reason a prisoner was placed inside a concentration camp. Gay, lesbian and feminist communities have reclaimed the pink and black triangles as a symbol of the fight against oppression. Is there a connection between these usages of the triangle symbol and the use of triangular-shaped bases in your work?

Frolic: Thank you. That was the most interesting question that I’ve ever had. And it really made me think about my work so much more because, no, that was certainly not an intention at all. But I don’t think you students can understand how powerful these questions are to the artist when you ask questions that open up things the artist never thought about. So I thank you very much for that question. But that’s something that I hadn’t thought about. And indeed this new work seriously has very little to do with my earlier work which was more based on that. But, wow, what a question but, no, I don’t think so. The reason they’re triangular-shaped is I’m getting canny as an older artist and I’m learning about colour and glass and it’s thickness, and how to get the most out of form. The things they tried to teach me when I was at art school the first time around and I was so busy pouring out all this work that I didn’t pay attention. So it has more to do with that. But that’s a really interesting question. Thank you.

Angela Bedard : Lors de l’Holocauste, des badges colorés en forme de triangle inversé étaient cousus sur les chemises pour identifier les divers prisonniers dans les camps de concentration. Dernièrement, les triangles roses et noirs ont été repris par les homosexuels, lesbiennes et communautés féministes pour contrer l’oppression. Y-a-t’il un lien entre ce genre d’utilisation du symbole triangulaire et l’utilisation du triangle dans votre travail ?

Irene Frolic : Merci. C’est la plus intéressante question que j’ai eu jusqu’à maintenant. Et cela me fait réfléchir d’avantage sur mon travail. Mais non, ce n’était certainement pas mon intention du tout. Je ne pense pas que vous, en tant qu’étudiants, puissiez comprendre la force de vos questions lorsque celles-ci ouvrent des possibilités insoupçonnées par l’artiste. Je vous remercie beaucoup pour cette question. Je n’y avais jamais pensé. Sérieusement, les nouvelles œuvres n’ont presque rien en commun avec mes premières œuvres. Eh bien, quelle question. Mais non, je ne crois pas.

La véritable raison de la forme triangulaire c’est que je deviens plus futée en vieillissant et que j’apprends plus sur les couleurs, sur les épaisseurs du verre et comment utiliser la forme. Ce sont toutes des notions qui m’ont été enseignées durant mes études en art mais que je n’écoutais pas car j’étais trop concentrée à produire mes pièces. Voilà la véritable raison mais c’est tout de même une question très intéressante. Merci.

Robert Geyer: We’ve noticed a big change in the touch of the hand from the old work to the new work and I agree with you that the newer work has much more of the touch of the hand. Can you talk about the strategy behind that?

Irene Frolic, Garland, 2008

Frolic: Oh, the design strategy. Ok, well I’m a good Libensky/Brychtova student and they often talked about thick and thin making different shifts in colour. So, yes, the shaft that holds my latest pieces, of which I think I’m only going to do one or two more because, you know, you get tired of it. That shaft with the two triangles is very artfully conceived so that you get a lot of different colour play in it. You can’t see it because I only sent you one pose but there’ll be a thinness up the middle where the two triangles meet and a thickness on the side and then the points that come down. And with this beautiful glass that I use, it all shows as different colour. And then the roundness in the face, the curve of the cheek, and the lips; it just makes the glass look differently than it did. So I pay a lot of attention to that. I delight in that, actually, like a baby. Oh, it’s so beautiful. So there’s a lot of design and years of experience, too, of knowing how it’s going to react. Because if you just make something in glass, unless you over-exaggerate and work at certain modeling of the surface, you’re not going to get your money’s worth. You might as well make it out of some other material – plaster or something.

Robert Geyer : Nous avons remarqué un grand changement dans le travail manuel entre les anciennes et les nouvelles œuvres. Je suis d’accord avec vous que l’on détecte le travail fait à la main vos nouvelles œuvres. Pouvez-vous nous parler de la stratégie derrière cela?

Irene Frolic : Ah, la stratégie conceptuelle. Eh bien, je suis une bonne étudiante de Libensky et il parlait souvent de l’influence de l’épaisseur et de la minceur du verre pour diffuser la couleur. En effet, mes dernières œuvres et certainement les prochaines que je ferai avant de me lasser, tiennent compte de ces préoccupations. La sculpture avec les deux triangles a été conçue artistiquement pour permettre différents jeux de couleurs. Vous ne l’avez pas vu, puisque je n’ai envoyé qu’une seule photo, mais il y a une minceur dans le milieu où les deux triangles se rejoignent et plus d’épaisseur sur les côtés et sur les pointes vers le bas. Avec le beau verre que j’utilise cela fait comme différentes couleurs. C’est perceptible sur la rondeur du visage, aux courbes des joues et des lèvres où l’on peut voir des différences dans le verre. J’y porte beaucoup d’attention. En fait, cela m’apporte beaucoup de plaisir, c’est comme contempler un bébé. Ah, qu’il est beau. Il y a beaucoup de conception et plusieurs années d’expérience, surtout dans la façon dont les choses peuvent se dérouler. Parce que si vous ne voulez que fabriquer quelque chose en verre, à moins d’exagérer sur les détails du modelage de la surface, vous devez trouver un équilibre entre les efforts et le résultat. Si non, c’est mieux de fabriquer cet objet avec un autre matériau comme le plâtre.

Leah Nowak: Your newer figurative work appears to be sculpted/designed so that they “contain” light in the head. Could you speak to the containment of light in these pieces?

Frolic: Yes, I can. I think I sort of started to think about it earlier in the question before. But definitely they’re all about containing colour and light and beauty which are all mixed in together and, as I said, that harkened back to some of that earlier work that I started to turn to –Miro, and the shafts of colour and the line of colour. So, what I’m trying to do is – I’m trying to roll all of this beauty of colour and light altogether into a big, potent package of beauty. Sort of like a pill, a beauty pill that you can take that might cure the world or myself or whatever. I’m trying to make them as full of colour and light as I possibly can. I did a number of series on that and one of them was something that I called Fierce Beauty. I’m trying to make them fiercely beautiful. And fierce means fire-fully intense or passionate, and beauty is grace, symmetry and refinement. I’m sort of trying to roll all these things up into work. I still have a long way to go but that’s what I’m thinking of. It’s like two ideals that exist at the same time, fierceness and beauty. And the line on which they dwell is very active and crackling.

Leah Nowak : Vos dernières œuvres figuratives semblent avoir été conçues et sculptées pour « contenir » la lumière dans la tête. Pouvez-vous élaborer sur la luminosité de ces œuvres?

Irene Frolic: Oui, je le peux. J’ai commencé à y réfléchir avec la question précédente. Définitivement, ces pièces retiennent la couleur, la lumière et la beauté simultanément. Tout comme les pièces de Miro qui ont captées mon attention avec les transitions de couleur et les lignes colorées, j’essai d’incorporer la beauté, la couleur et la lumière dans une grande et puissante vision esthétique. Comme une pilule, un cachet de beauté que l’on peut prendre pour guérir le monde, moi-même ou n’importe quoi. J’essai de les réaliser avec le plus de couleur et de lumière possible. J’ai fait une série de pièces, dont une intitulée Fierce Beauty (Beauté féroce), que j’essai de rendre férocement belle. Par féroce, je veux dire enflammée, intense ou passionnée, et par beauté, je veux dire gracieuse, symétrique et raffinée. J’essai de les incorporer dans un même travail. J’ai encore beaucoup de chemin à faire mais voilà l’inspiration. C’est comme deux idéaux en même temps, férocité et beauté. La démarcation entre eux est très forte et stimulante.

Leah Nowak: Regarding the light in the heads of your figurative work, are you connecting it all to spirituality or are you speaking to a healing or rebirth through that light?

Frolic: That light – I think it’s more of a fierce light that I’m trying to produce, more than spirituality (and I’m not exactly sure what you mean by that term). Healing in a fierce and very active way. And actually when I was very ill, I started the series and worked my head off, so to speak –just to try to be as fierce and active and positive as I possibly could to create them. So, to answer your question, yes to those things but not in sort of a passive way but in a very active artist/ic maker kind of way.

Leah Nowak : En ce qui concerne la luminosité des têtes de vos œuvres figuratives, faites-vous un lien avec la spiritualité ou faites-vous référence à la guérison, à la renaissance par cette lumière ?

Irene Frolic : J’essai de reproduire une luminosité plus féroce que spirituelle, en fait je ne saisi pas exactement le lien que vous faites. La guérison est à la fois active et féroce. Lorsque j’étais très malade, j’ai débuté cette série de pièces en travaillant, à en perdre la tête, en demeurant la plus féroce, la plus active et la plus positive possible. Alors, pour répondre à votre question, oui mais pas dans un sens passif mais plutôt dans le sens d’être une artiste très active.

Jamie Gray: I wanted to ask you if there is spirituality imbued in your work. And I think you answered that a little bit in the positive that you think there is. Is that right?

Frolic: Spirituality and beauty may be in the eyes of the beholder.

Jamie Gray : Je voulais vous demander si votre travail est empreint de spiritualité. En fait, je crois que vous l’avez déjà un peu affirmé. Est-ce exact ?

Irene Frolic : La spiritualité et la beauté sont dans les yeux de ceux qui regardent.

Jamie Gray: Right, right, but I’m thinking that some of your work seems to radiate a bit. Not physically but, see I don’t know how to explain this very well, but I think that by the maker’s hands being all over a piece, something of the maker goes into that piece. And so, I guess that is just what I wanted to ask, if you think there can be a certain type of spirituality that ends up in any work?

Frolic: That is my wish, and my great desire. And of course I would like to say the answer is yes, but only if you see it. I can be as spiritual as I want over my work and that’s sort of what I think I’ve learned after all these years is you have to know how to do it and how to express it in whatever field you choose whether it’s writing or sculpture or painting. So, I wish that were true and I hope it is.

Jamie Gray : C’est vrai, c’est vrai, mais je pense que votre travail semble, en quelque sorte, illuminé. Pas dans un sens physique, je ne sais pas comment l’exprimer, mais je fais allusion au fait que lorsque quelqu’un fabrique une pièce, qu’une partie de lui s’y intègre. Alors, je pense que j’aimerai savoir si vous pensez qu’une forme de spiritualité s’imprègne dans votre travail?

Irene Frolic : C’est mon souhait et mon plus grand désir. Évidemment, j’aimerais pouvoir l’affirmer mais ce n’est que si vous le percevez. Je peux avoir une approche spirituelle dans mon travail, mais ce que j’ai appris après toutes ces années, c’est qu’on doit savoir comment le faire et comment l’exprimer, peu importe la forme d’expression, que ce soit l’écriture, la sculpture ou la peinture. J’aimerais ou j’espère que ce soit vrai.

Irene Frolic, Garland (detail), 2008

*Irene Frolic is a past president of the Glass Art Association of Canada and a member of the Royal Academy. She maintains a studio in Toronto, Ontario and regularly exhibits internationally. Her work is found in many private and public collections.

*Irene Frolic a été présidente de l’Association du verre d’art du Canada (GAAC) et de l’Académie royale des arts du Canada. Elle occupe un atelier à Toronto en Ontario. Elle participe régulièrement à plusieurs expositions à l’étranger. Ses œuvres sont présentes dans plusieurs collections privées et publiques.