Grip

How to hold the tools you use

There are some things it’s best you see. Yes indeed, there are some things it’s best we show you so you see them quickly with your own eyesΒ (because it would take hours and hours for you to read about them).

The “Romance” and “Excitement” of a Stained Glass Painter’s Life

I am given a task

I should have know what was coming: David approached me this morning with a spring in his step, aΒ twinkle in his eyes, and a piece of paper in his hand.

Here, he said, this is for you.

His enthusiastic tone implied even the Rosetta Stone was significantly less important than this paper which he gave me.

Tomorrow

You spend weeks and months on the design – moving from tiny black-and-white sketches to 1:10 half-toned approximations; and then onwards to a full-sized water-colour painting, plus a full-sized black-and-white tonal drawing (to give a clear instruction to us painters about where the light must pass through really clearly) …

And then you finally come to cut the glass, and paint it, and silver-stain it, and also plate it (in order to create the perfect colour as you see it in your mind), then you paint and silver-stain the plating.

At last the piece is encased in lead, with neatly mitred joints to show each graphic angle. Cemented and polished. Fitted in its various frames with steel armatures.

So, tonight, it lies “finished” and strapped against our A-frames, in readiness for tomorrow’s installation, but – exactly because it is an architectural piece – until tomorrow, when we fit it, who knows what this window really is?

That is our responsibility as designers and painters of stained glass. Responsibility to the donor and his memories and his loss. Responsibility to the building itself. And responsibility to the people who will enter the building, each with their own particular memories and their own particular loss.

These unimaginable things matter – nothing else.