The difference between a blog and Facebook?

On a blog, no one talks to you. Ask a question? Good luck. On Facebook everyone is so busy yabbering that your questions are drowned out by all the other chatter. But more often than not, people respond. Silly stuff sometimes. But at least you’re heard.

It’s kind of like speaking on stage compared to blathering in the local pub. And with Facebook you don’t really need a prepared speech. Anything seems to fly.

Get AWAY from me with that stupid camera – go embarrass some of your human friends!

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I know, I know. Late again.

My American summer got buried in art fairs, our new Santa Fe resource center and just keeping my head above the flood waters.

I’ve just landed again in the Northern Highlands of Scotland – after an inspiring visit to the International Festival of Glass in Stourbridge – and elated to be back in the place where I and 13 artists left our hearts earlier this summer.

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Yes, it’s approaching four weeks….and just when I thought it was safe to go out , I got a Google alert  a couple of days ago that shot me right back to GAS – a favorite, often-edgy Canberra based blog with delayed coverage of the Moje demo at GAS.

I snagged this snap (apologies for the thievery, Megan) in order to answer a couple of questions that I got asked daily during the conference:

Q#1. What’s the story behind the cool Moje T-shirt?
Q#2. Where do I get one?

Why not get it off your chest? Better yet – put it on. Klaus Moje and Yoko Yagi make a sartorial statement at GAS Portland.

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Every year the same Bullseye people who build the furnaces, ladle the glass, pack the crates, teach the classes, stock the shelves, and answer the phones put together my favorite exhibition: Working Glass.


“Untitled” got my vote: a pair of over-sized pink nuts. From a young woman in the maintenance department.

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It’s a factory. What can you expect? Sometimes you stumble onto stuff tucked away in dark corners that is truly scary.

So I shouldn’t have been surprised a couple of weeks ago when, as I was clambering through some dusty shelving up on a mezzanine above the R & E department, I happened upon what at first I mistook for the scalps of shrunken long-hairs. Until I decided they were the My Not-So-Little Pony Tails of some kiddy Vampira.


Slowly I realized the hirsute hangings that had wigged me out were glass. I was transfixed.

Confession: after 35 years inside the glass bubble, what increasingly grabs my attention are those objects that ride the slightly disturbing twin rails of beauty and horror. These did it. I was awe-struck.
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Twelve years ago we responded to a recurring complaint that we’d heard from front line glass users for over a decade: the scarcity of our Tested Compatible glass in the retail market. After a bunch of internal bickering and squabbling – that’s what I love about this place: all the Yes Men got fired decades ago – we made the decision to open a Resource Center and to sell direct.

Why’d they paint the place that Halloween color unless it’s a portal to Hell?
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