Cast Glass Sculpture

While living in Miami many years ago, I had the good fortune to meet and work with a number of gifted artists from all over the world. We worked together in studios scattered throughout Lincoln Road Mall in South Beach. It was there that I learned the art of cast glass sculpture.

The process is long, difficult and dangerous - which makes it all the sweeter when done successfully.

First, a model is sculpted from wax - I loved this part of the process, the sculpting itself is a deeply meditative experience. When the wax is finished it's set into a plaster mold, and this is the dangerous part - because you want the plaster to adhere to every detail of the wax, you have to use a very fine-grained jeweler's plaster. Which, if inhaled in even small quantities, is highly damaging to the lungs. I worked wearing a heavy face mask and gloves, always a little bit terrified of the stuff.

Next the mold is placed in a special oven and the wax is burned off, leaving the empty plaster, which is then filled with crushed glass. We experimented with all sorts of glass, from fine store-bought sheets to broken beer bottles.

Finally the glass-filled mold is fired overnight in an oven that reaches thousands of degrees. This was the cool part - the next day you take out the mold, cool it and break away the plaster. I did a series of about two dozen small heads. It was always thrilling to take them out and see what had happened - the firing process is unpredictable and even the tiniest bubble can ruin an otherwise perfect surface - but there were also some that went beautifully wrong.

Sadly I've lost most of them over the years. But among those that are left, here is a favorite. The glass absorbs light in a way that gives it an ethereal, almost ghostly quality. I love that.

Larger-Than-Life Drawing

This past weekend I attended a life drawing session at The Slipper Room, a burlesque theater in the east village. As one might expect from such a venue, this was not your usual, academic life drawing experience.

I wasn't sure what to expect, and found myself walking from a sunny New York street into a dark theater that had the look and feel of a David Lynch set. It was noir and glam and seedy and very, very cool. I found a seat in front of a stage swathed in straight-from-the-bordello satin curtains. The model was a wonderful burlesque performer in full costume, complete with flowers, spangles, lucite heels and a pair of sparkly wings. Excellent.

It's been a long time since I've done any life drawing, so I was pretty rusty. The Slipper Room has a bar, so a glass of wine took care of that. Soon the music, the model and the wine worked their magic....three hours of drawing passed before I knew it.

Respect to the creators of Dr. Sketchy's Anti-Art School for making this amazing and inspiring experience possible. I'll definitely be going again.

Spinoffs

It's interesting to see what sometimes happens to art after you make it. Sometimes it's nothing; other times the art seems to take on a life of it's own. Often you have no control over that.


Generally speaking, anything that extends the life and appeal of a commercial project is good. In the case of my book Alpha Bettie, this came in the form of toys made of the main character and her dog.

Much less predictable was what happened as a result of a poster I created for a play this past Spring. I struggled with this project at first - the play was about monsters, the costume designer hadn't yet designed the monsters - so I had no idea what the main characters were actually going to look like, much less what the aesthetics of the play would be. I had to create a visual direction myself. Which was frustrating at first, but after numerous meetings with the director, producer and other designers, ultimately I was able to have some fun with it.

I was very happy with the poster.

....and the producer was, too. That's his arm in the picture.