My Christmas card this year is a little booklet adapted from The Little Book of Why Glass - with additions and subtractions. This is the (topical) cover. As usual, I've made some, but most are being emailed in the form of a Make-it-Yourself kit. Here's a pdf of the finished booklet, but it's not very readable.
This is the season of home sales and open studios, so I had one too. And jolly successful it was too. All the jewellery went, most of the Christmas decorations and some of the more expensive pieces found good homes too. People are still phoning up to ask about something they were thinking about. Recession? What recession? It's all been very encouraging from my point of view.
An exhibition opens today in Madrid for which two of my pieces were selected on the basis of photographs submitted. The other one is pictured lower down the page - the theme was recycling. But the organisers never told me. So I didn't send them. And of course I am now not in the exhibition or the catalogue. I am extremely disappointed, as can well be imagined. And what makes it worse is that it is probably my fault. I should have checked the website, but I didn't realise that. I'd thought there would be an email.
The piece in the window looked particularly effective at night - everybody said so. I made one sale and met the buyer from yesterday. A good crowd and everyone entertained with sushi and wine.
Everything is now ready for the private view of my duo show at the Koukan Gallery tonight. Looking rather better than I had anticipated. I think our work complements each other quite well and fills the space quite nicely. Shame we can't adjust the lighting a little better. BoneScape in the window looks really good at night when it is dark outside. I'm pleased to have it on view again. I have already sold one piece, the smallest and cheapest, but it all helps to cover costs.
It's very difficult to take pictures of glass in museums, and there was surprisingly little glass at the Bowes Museum - lots of porcelain and silver. This is Bohemian engraved layed glass of the early 19th century. Quite an unusual colour. However, we had a good go at the junk shops in Barnard Castle (of which there were lots) and saw various tempting rummers. I resisted, though. I honestly don't need any more wineglasses. Is this a sign of growing up?
So here's the gate banging shut on my MA for the last time. But it's not the end. I'll be coming back as an alumnus (or should it be alumna?) to use the facilities and check in for advice. A very nice exchange with the chaps suggested a welcoming open door and a willingness to help in the future. And lots of positive comments on what I have achieved and done in the last two years. I needed that. So on my final day as a student, I departed with an upbeat feeling. Not a bang exactly; but not a whimper either.
This is a watercolour of my visualisation of my MA Final Project - the now commissioned piece for the reception desk of the new Bolsover Street hospital outpatients department. The storyboard detailing the whole project, the model, a sample panel, background notes, and the obligatory 'critical appraisal' (which I have done in unconventional manner) are all awaiting inspection in the MA room. Downstairs in the gallery, I have laid out my giant goblet and my Four Seasons quartet - the hanging committee will make the final decisions today about where everything is to go, but I am again in prime position - the first thing you see on entering the gallery. How do I feel, now it is all over? A bit flat. But I am taking my new motto from what the Isle of Wight blower said at the weekend: 'My best work will be done tomorrow.'
Three readers of this blog, plus personal married-to advisor said go for the shorter (better proportioned) goblet. Reader, I didn't. Somehow it seemed a bit squat when I had all the parts assembled. I had every intention of taking the advice - not least because I wasn't sure the whole thing would stand up with the extra part of the stem, and a very tenuous joint to the foot. It was standing when I left college yesterday. I felt literally sick with anxiety as I pieced it together. Not totally unlike the chalk working drawing.
In the same order as the pâte de verre blanks. And with the 'germ' pieces inside - this is how they are being exhibited at the Final Show. At the time of making, I thought, ho hum. Does this add anything to the originals? I'm a bit disappointed and it's my own fault. They are rather chunky and heavy. I should have stuck to my first plan which was to open them out more. On the other hand that would have taken longer and really I might then have outstayed my welcome and my gaffer would have said he had to get on with his own work. And summer could have had some twist - I said not to because I wanted the sun to stay as it was. There is one bonus - the extra glass is creating nice optical effects and you can see the ghost original reflected three times.
Here they clockwise: autumn, winter, spring, summer. Ready to be blown out - though I fear I am pushing my luck. But nothing venture, nothing gain. I have thought quite carefully about how the colours will behave this time, and have (I hope) anchored some of the more volatile ones so they don't run away. But it's not easy to predict. Winter is the one I am most looking forward to. I think it will be cool, and a little bleak, but with optimistic flashes of glowing gold. I'll be reporting back.
I'm not the only person interested in bones. This is called 'Untitled Monument' and is by Jodie Carey and I saw it at the Anticipation exhibition in the basement of Selfridges - a new venture, I think in collaboration with Saatchi. It's made of plaster, wire and sugar paste icing and took 9 months to make. She must have to construct it anew each time she shows it. My 'bones' piece for RNOH has moved miles away from its original inspiration in bones - so much so, that perhaps it has become untraceable (though I know). Whereas a giant 'wedding cake' of obvious bones gives you pause for thought.
