The trees from our deck become altogether different souls than the crisp, mossy green beings they are on most days.

In the years when I  had my own studio and actually did a lot of kilnforming myself, I longed for this kind of glass. I’d occasionally find it in a Fischer opal or opak – those  mouth-blown sheets of exquisite German glass in which a thin layer of white was flashed over a rich colorful base to give a muted hint of color from one side.

Sadly when kiln-fired, the incompatible layers would crackle and craze apart.

Well, gee. While I wasn’t looking Bullseye’s master magician (aka Sam) was brewing up a new glass called Opaline (aka 000403) that – among various uses – can be fired over other opals to mute their coloration.

Excuse the quickie photo: these are a few sample bowls I spotted at the RC last weekend: Opaline layer fused over solid opal blank, then slumped in an 8 in. Cone Bowl mold. Simple. Elegant. Like Sam.

Of course, Opaline can also be used on its own.  The 1-1/4″ thick block below was made by stacking and firing (dammed, of course) 3mm strips of Opaline in decreasing proportions to strips of Clear. The right side of the block is thus made up of ten layers of Opaline and the far left end made of ten layers of Clear.

Or vice versa. No matter how you look at it, it’s a glass just made for those of us who love a little mist-ery in our lives (sorry, dreadful, I know). Almost makes me want to quit whining about the economy and head back to the studio….or to the Highlands…

Shopping is also a very personal act. And increasingly, as we are less and less able to make those political statements by buying heartily at places whose values we support or whose pain we’d like to ease, it is still a means of human connection.

This is the ride. And the story of how we’ll all make it. Together. And aware.

I’ve been shopping less lately. But I’ve been trying to be more conscious about each purchase.  A while ago I discovered ETSY. It was probably inevitable. I love craft fairs, but don’t have the time anymore to visit them. Nowadays I mostly shop online.

The best part about ETSY is the enormous range of work there. The worst part is – like actual fairs – slogging through aisles and aisles before finding the piece that truly speaks to you. Of course the Etsy search function is awesome and since I’m always looking for “things Bullseye” it brought up a ton of stuff, some great, some not so.

But in the end what I find myself buying is not just a piece that’s made of our glass, but a piece with a story. Just as I was always mesmerized in talking to a weaver or a potter or a jeweler about the sheep, the mud, or the passion behind the work when I stopped at a craft fair booth, I love to find a good story behind anything I buy.

So, when a Bullseye search brought me to the Venerable Bead’s site, I fell in love with a necklace that wasn’t made of Bullseye at all (it’s boro), but had a story that reminded me of a long ago pet and our family car trips. That little story hit my heart. And my credit card. I’ve since turned the necklace into a keychain. I use it every day.

But the story still lives in the artist’s sold folder. READ IT HERE…it’s so sweet.

The next purchase I’m contemplating seems almost psychic considering my last post on this blog. “Play nice”?! Moi??

And no, I don’t know the jeweler personally. But I admire her work – and I’m a sucker for her stories!

United We Sit.

Ryan, Jamie and I set off for Chicago early this morning to set up our SOFA booth….it’s approaching afternoon. We’re still in Portland. So is our (broken) plane.

Sigh.

UPDATE – 11:30pm

We made it….

The view from our condo…overlooking Grant Park….where a million people are predicted to show up in what we expected would be our leisurely route over to Navy Pier.

This should be fun.

Life has been such a party lately. (Insert cynical Smiley)

Like this week. We went to the grand opening of  The Nines, Portland’s newest luxury hotel. Hundreds of revelers bouncing around decadent monuments like tequila and martini luges. Pretzel-boned babe bungie-bouncing from sky-high balloons.

I kept looking out the windows expecting to see Rome burning. But no. Just little old Portland, gritting its gotta-love-‘em teeth in the face of our freaky future.

And tucked amid the revelers is the real reason we go to stuff like this.

Designed by Melody Owen, fabricated by Elements Glass, three floors of LED-lit handblown glass cascading down a marble stairwell.

The Nines has engaged with the local arts community to bring original art into the public and private spaces of this major hotel.  From the print faculty at Pacific Northwest College of Art to a galaxy of independent local artists and studios, The Nines is a feast for art lovers. Original idea? Well, no….we’ve previously reported on the Hotel Murano in Tacoma, one of a number of arts-based properties developed by Provenance Hotels. “Art Hotels” are good business.

But for those of us in the arts, “trend” may trump “original” on this one. It’s what we all so dearly need right now: recognition for the value of original art in defining identity. Whether personal or corporate, on all levels, art is the manifestation of our human side. And just cause for celebration.

So, look up, guys. We’re going to get through this one.

Dan & friend watching dangling damsel. Behind them: “Bloom” – over one ton of kiln-glass designed by Portland artist Ellen George.

Why are dozens of well-dressed women hanging out in a parking lot in Southeast Portland?

After seeing glass batched, melted and formed, listening to a presentation on Moje, history and process, and finally seeing the operations of the fabrication studios, they left – wiser, we hope, and perhaps more curious about an art-making material that had been pretty foreign to most of them only a few hours earlier.

I’m always fascinated by the observations of first-time visitors to the factory. I liked these two especially:

“You sure have a lot of attractive young men working here.”

(Thank you, HR)

“Wow, it’s amazing to see a place where people actually MAKE something. I didn’t think we did that in this country anymore.”

(Come to think of it, it is a little un-American)