According to dictionary.com, a gaffer can be any of four types of people; the chief electrician on a motion picture or television production, an old man, a foreman or overseer especially of a group of physical laborers, and a master glassblower responsible for shaping glassware. In my world, the only one that’s important is that last one. Actually, it’s the only definition I had for gaffer up until about ten minutes ago. My Jon is that type of gaffer.
It’s the reason he’s in Wisconsin. He’s teaching the art of glass blowing to sculpture students at a university there. It was my pleasure to get to attend his personal blow slot, a period of time during which his students assist him in creating his art. I’ve watched Jon blow glass before, a bunch of times, all of which he’d forgotten about. However, this time was different. It’s been a while since I last observed, and he’s become calmer, more poised, more purposeful and fluid in his movements, or maybe that’s just how he seemed to me.
Despite feeling like a creeper, I decided to photograph him and his students while they worked. It was hard; they move around a lot, in unpredictable patterns, quietly, with extremely hot glass. It did not want to get in the way and I was a bit afraid of accidentally getting burnt, despite their near-expert awareness. I was also lacking a tripod to attempt to get the motion shots I’d have liked to capture.
And yet, I’m happy with the photos I got. I enjoyed watching and photographing their working, but I was also enamored with the tools, the hot glass, and the overall greyness of this immensely creative space. The hot shop, as it’s called, is where the glass is melted, manipulated, and slowly, strategically cooled in the annealer. It’s where glass changes from solid to liquid and back to solid, a great practical science lesson in outside forces changing physical properties.
In my opinion, this strangely scientific art form is a fluid, collaborative, brave process. Touching glass that was melted at 2,200 degrees, with nothing but specially-folded wet newspaper between your hand the only-very-slightly-cooled material, does not seem sound to my-overly-logical-very-fearful-of-pain-self.
But for them, it’s part of the everyday; glass blowing accompanied by a cup of coffee. I’ve done other things with glass, but not working out of the furnace, like they are in these photos. I have immense respect, pride, and awe for what they do, for what Jon does.
With almost all of my creations, minimal to no planning is involved, despite my being such a life-planner. But for Jon, the planning and strategizing and researching are integral aspects of his process; the glass blowing and annealing and cold-working are almost secondary (but definitely more fun to watch.)
Sometimes, because of glass’s fragility, a piece veers off course, and Jon, my perfectionist, will scrap it mid-way to completion to start over. The glass is broken off the blow pipe into a metal container and left to self-destruct as it cracks and explodes from cooling too quickly. It’s tragic and frustrating to me, the onlooker, but there’s also strange beauty in the temperamental side of glass as well.
When I met Jon, he was only just beginning to become interested in blowing glass in this manner. Soon he decided to pursue glass in a collegiate and professional environment. Six years later, glass has taken him many, many places, Canada, New York, North Carolina, Ireland, the Pacific Northwest, Portugal, Japan, and now, Wisconsin. He’s earned his BFA, had his work displayed at a NYC gallery, assisted well-known artists, been flown around the world to teach, and he’s only just getting started. Somewhere along the way, Jon’s passion for glass transformed him into more than a gaffer, he’s happily grown into an artist. I’d seen glimpses of this throughout our relationship, but my Wisconsin visit cemented that fact in my heart. I feel so grateful to have been a part of his journey so far and I can’t wait to see where it takes him in the years to come.
