prettybabiesglass.com Blog

Long ago and far away, growing up on the flat plains of Kansas, I began a journey with glass that would take me to places of beauty and wonder. But as I sit here reflecting on the holiday season, I think back to the beauty that shaped who I am.

I remember the first time my mother let me attend Midnight Mass. I honestly can’t remember if it was before or after second grade, as I can’t remember if the Mass that night was in Latin or not. It was just odd to be allowed to stay up past bedtime, get dressed up and go anywhere. It just was not done. However, my mother was ready. She dressed me up, piled myself and all my sisters into her late model car, and drove in the dark to the parish church, St. Teresa’s.

I remember the night being cold, the dim light of the dashboard lights from the back seat as we drove towards downtown. “Wake up Sally!” my sister nudged me as we pulled into the parking lot of the gas station next door. “Why are we parking here?”, I asked. No answer. The brisk wind blew right through the white tights I was wearing. I was conscious of the waistband slowly creeping down as I walked on the uneven but dry sidewalk. One of my sisters gasped. I looked up at the 1910 European Gothic revival church I thought I knew so well. On that pitch black night, all you could see was the interior lights streaming through the stained glass windows revealing all the beautiful colors, painted faces, adorned with the names of long deceased families who donated enough money to have a window dedicated to them. I had never seen anything so breathtaking in my life. I forgot about the cold wind whipping up my dress and nearly tripped on the uneven sidewalk as I could not take my eyes off the blues, greens, the reds… it just did not look the same from the inside during the day. The windows shimmered like expensive jewels. I could not wait to get inside and see how they looked from that angle.

There was no last minute pocket kleenex held tight by a bobby pin that night. My mom was completely prepared. She even remembered the chapel veils. “Ouch”, I said as one of my older sisters jammed the bobby pin into my tender head. “Shut up, Sally” she hissed. “MOM…she said ‘shut up!” I protested. My Mom just said “shhhhh….” as she opened the heavy wooden door from the vestibule to the sanctuary. The windows, sadly, were a blank, dead brown but it didn’t matter. Every light in the church was on. Every inch of the old alter had a bright red poinsettia, the baby Jesus was finally in the cradle of hay that for four weeks was being carefully stared at by large statues of Mary, Joseph, the shepherds as well as variety of barn animals. It was magical.

I guess I fell asleep. I was pretty disappointed, as I was sure I had missed the Angel of the Lord appearing or something biblical like that. But that is the first time I remember thinking that illuminated glass was the most glorious thing on earth and what it must like to be the person who could create such a wonder.

Often times, people endeavoring to make art will call on the talents of others to supplement the vision. I learned this with associations with other artists.. and especially when I sought my college degree in fine art. My collaboration with the public glass artist Dierk Van Keppel was an important step in finishing that goal.

Now, I would like to introduce you to a group that has been instrumental in helping me achieve my vision. Frankie, Vivian, Gus and Hooter.

Gus and Hooter have been working with me for quite a while, while Frankie and Vivian just joined the team. Just to reassure all of you, no team member has been injured in the making of the art. Special thanks to their handlers, especially the ‘foreman’, my friend Kevin Masiulis.

We were having dinner with a group of famous artists, mostly men. The conversation turned to a sort of smack-down for art types. “If you don’t have the craftmanship, go big!” They all laughed. Later one worried that maybe he had inadvertently insulted a dear friend. It prompted a conversation between myself and my friend Lesli Mash, who was traveling with me. Since we both collected miniature things as children, the subject of small came up. I think in my own work, I like big, bold and showy. Partly because it makes a statement, but partly because the bigger the piece, the more room you have for self-expression. We decided that really, smaller is more difficult, because you have less room to work. The details have to be more impressive on a smaller scale. I gave it a shot. It’s interesting to me the way conversation can sometimes direct the muses. Or maybe that’s really ‘it’. Conversation IS a muse.
Demi means ‘divided in half’. Here is my wholehearted, half effort: Demi

In looking back over the past year, I realize I have taught classes all over the US and Europe and this same question comes up over and over…..

“Now, it’s okay that I make these to sell, right?”

How does a teacher answer such a question? My mentors say ‘make it personal’.
The corsages are very personal to me. They are born out of personal experience with my mother (the florist) and growing up in a household where my curiosity and artistic expression were left to grow. My Mom was really creative. She appreciated the little things around her. She pointed out the beauty around us, like architecture (she loved cityscapes as much as the gingerbread woodwork on turn of the century houses), the changing colors of the leaves, the lovely colors of spring. She turned this appreciation for the world around her into her own expressions. I don’t do her work, but her work influences me greatly.
I name the brooches for women I know because each of them touches me in a tiny way. Each one of these women impresses upon me an attribute, an action, a thought that spurs me to make these pieces. It is entirely personal. I think that is why people relate to them, and often want to own them.
I teach the technique in the hopes that the people who take the class will also use the design to make it personal for them. I expect the students to make the same shapes that I do, and I know they are often curious about the mechanics of how I put it all together. I have been impressed with some students who bring their ‘practice pieces’ to class to show me how they have been trying to figure it out on their own.
However, I am most impressed with the students who use the technique to achieve their own personal goals. There are many students who have gone on to really make it their own and I wanted to point out three here today. I hope to continue to add to this list.
The first is Karla Klein, who took my class in Omaha. Karla has always done adorable fish. During the class, she became pretty excited because her ‘light bulb’ went on and she suddenly knew how to use the technique to achieve a goal she always wanted to reach. She always wanted to make the fish look like they were floating above the coral reef. Here is her final product. It doesn’t look like my work. It looks completely like hers. But you can see how she used her new skills to make that happen! It’s adorable!

The next student was also the studio owner. Miriam Steger of the Netherlands invited me to teach at her studio. After the first round of classes, she showed me some things she was working on, trying to make a Hydrangea. In the Netherlands, it’s called Hortensia. This does not look like my work either. I could tell that Miriam would have eventually figured out how to get there, but taking the class got her there faster. I think it’s beautiful and Miriam should be proud!

Lastly, I want to include Barbara Terrill’s piece from the last class I taught this year at Arrow Springs in Shingle Springs, CA. She came to class with many ideas and pieces already made. She also made my shapes, but stuck with the things she brought to class to make it uniquely hers. Again, this piece does not look like mine, but you can see how she used the technique to make it personal to her.

I hope to continue to add to this list. I have taught at around 15 studios to date. All of them with 10-12 students per class. I imagine I will get new photos to post and I will share them here. These are just 3 examples of the work being done, and I am really proud of them.

People ask me. They wonder where these ideas originate. Honestly, it’s not just one thing. Not just one experience or object or artist. It’s truly a combination of many things. Take the eye pod for example….. Several years ago, after a class with Italian glass master, Lucio Bubacco, I found myself in Arizona, waiting for the opening of the Bead Museums’ exhibit, Trajectories. I was waiting at the hotel for friend Gwynne Ruckenbrod to pick me up. I looked down and saw some incredible pods on the ground, like these……

They come from a bottle tree. I knew Gwynne would love them, so I picked some up to show her. When I got in the car, she had the same pods. She knew I would love them too! It was often like that with her. We would show up wearing similar outfits or pick out the same party ware. Anyway, I filed them away for another day.

One day the thought struck me that I really wanted to see that in glass. I took them out and studied it. Having acquired advanced glass skills from Lucio’s class years before, I knew I could push the glass beyond the limits of the bead on a mandrel. I had to figure out how to attach it to my final piece, which took some experimenting, but the final result morphed into the eye pod design that dominates much of my work these days.

Being back in Arizona, it brings much of this creative process for me into sharp focus. The journey here many years ago, sparked a creative journey that I am still enjoying. Just food for thought for all those hungry artists out there. Follow that path.. even if you think what you are making may not sell, may never be shown to anyone, may never help you pay the mortgage. Make it because you want to see it. Then, decide if you want to share it with the rest of the world.

Its been quite a journey. Starting out in England.. Rudston, in fact, 5 hours north of London by train. Then on to Eindhoven, one hour from Amsterdam. Then to Nice, France and finally to Murano in Italy to visit some friends and reconnect with some glass people……I saw churches, cemeteries, monasteries, pubs, cafes, and the living rooms and kitchens of gracious, sweet people. I listened to proper English, Dutch, Belgian Dutch, French, and tried my best to speak Italian. I met talented artists, incredibly gifted glass masters and shared some laughs with friends.


I ate herring, had proper tea, and of course pizza. I ate salmon prepared several different ways.
But mostly I had the chance to teach many eager glass workers across 3 countries what I love to do. For that, I am truly blessed, because I met some incredible people!






For all this, I am truly amazed. Soon my feet will be back in America. The home that I love.

I just returned from a lovely but short trip to teach at the studios of Ed and Virginia Slawson in Rockland, Maine. The trip was especially important to me for other reasons beyond the opportunity to teach something I dearly love. Growing up in a tiny town in the middle of Kansas, my life seemed quite static, even at the tender age of 9. I remember walking through the back porch screen of my mother’s house on a hot summer day and thinking this is all my life will ever be. Despite the sort of empty despair of the 5th grade variety, I started collecting goals. Sitting in that 50s style cold-war classroom that was always either too hot or too cold, Geography class had a strange attraction for me. When we studied the state of Maine, the fictional tale of the girl whose Dad was a Lobster fisherman and rushed out of school at low tide to dig clams on the beach seemed so ‘other-worldly’ to me. It was far from the flat, windy plains of Kansas. It seemed magical to hear about the powerful lenses of the lighthouses that dotted coastal Maine. The seagulls and the fog. It all sounded wonderful. I finally got that opportunity to witness the fog, the seagulls, the whole she-bang. Besides spending the weekend teaching a group of completely fun people, I got to check that item off the list. Next time, I will build in a day or two to maybe look at a lobster trap up close and maybe tour a real lighthouse. However, I feel really lucky that Hurricane Irene had lost all her power by they time she reached that area and I was able to get back home with no delays. It was a good time. It was gratifying to satisfy that ancient goal, formed so long ago. I really am blessed… now… I just have to figure out a way to go to the Girl Scout facility in Switzerland “Our Chalet”. Another item… for another day…

A delicious summer. The piece named Fibonacci Sequence is now in the private collection of Agnes and Roger Clark. Serious collectors with a special eye for flamework.

Another piece, Bird Nouveau was selected to be in the River Market Regional Exhibition in Kansas City. It too, has found it’s way into a private collection.

Feeling blessed….

I realize I have been negligent in the area of posting on the blog these days and I apologize for all my friends in Latvia and all those other Slavic countries that wait with baited breath to post their comments on my blog and urge me to sign up for free movies and various types of pharmaceuticals. I appreciate all those heartfelt comments from all you bots out there they were helped tremendously by my wise words and have bookmarked my site. Thanks for the offers to boost the hits on my site… thanks, but no thanks. Now see… I can’t say that line without thinking about that other Sarah, the one that lives in Alaska who thinks Paul Revere is a bell ringer. The mind is a funny thing. Mine seems to follow these little foot paths that are triggered by all sorts of things. The taste of honey used to conjure up an image of a restaurant called the Chicken Box from my hometown. My sister worked there in high school. They served food in these boxes sort of like KFC and each box included (besides chicken), a biscuit and some honey. However, recently, my sister and her husband were discussing this very establishment when she reminded me she was fired from said Chicken Box Restaurant, to which her husband replied “You were too good for the Chicken Box”. He is a humorous guy, certainly. So… guess what I hear in my head when I taste honey these days?
This brings me to my work believe it or not…..I am writing a speech to deliver later this summer at a convention and spending a lot of time thinking about why I am doing what I am doing. I pretty much boils down to what I want to see personally, but also what I am trying to get across. In the book Art and Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland, they talk about an intelligence that is presumed. Not instinct necessarily, but natural information that by the time you are at the age of reason, (which is 7 years BTW) you have some understanding. For instance, the authors state …”without a broadly shared belief in the symbolism of the Cross and the promise of Heaven above, the cruciform design and towering spoires of the great European cathedrals would have made no sense whatsoever.” Meaning that you have some understanding about Christianity, even if you are not Christian, so therefore the churches of Europe make sense to you. I try to utilize that in my work as well. I draw on familiar shapes and arrangements to draw you in. After that, I work on mixing things up a little. It’s all a conscious effort. Anyway, more on that later as I am steeped in finishing the speech.
Hello to my Russian bot friends. Have a good day.

Buildings are fascinating to me. Especially old ones. They represent human thought. They exemplify human endeavor. Every action begins with a thought and what a fantastic result of thought. I am thinking about the Empire State Building. I was lucky enough to participate in a show across the street from the Empire State Building in New York recently and it’s hard not to feel a little bit of a thrill as you ascend out of the subway entrance and see this enormous structure before you. Then you have to wonder how it came to be. Who had the dream, and who had the confidence and expertise to make it reality. It was designed by William F. Lamb. Has that name been forgotten in the halls of popular thought? How could this dream on a grand scale be taken for granted? It’s 102 stories high. It was completed in 1931 and was he tallest building for almost 40 years until the completion of the Twin Towers. It’s majestic and awe inspiring. It stands on 2 acres and has it’s own zip code. What I really dearly love is it’s Art Deco design. So clean and modern for its time. What a fabulous way to make your mark on the Manhattan skyline. It makes me think.. if you don’t dream big, as the designers, architects, engineers and financiers of the Empire State Building did, you can’t expect grand things to just fall in you lap. Don’t be afraid to dream big. 102 stories big……