… I don’t draw.

Well, I can’t draw well.

I just copy.

And if anyone reckons I’m supposed to be ashamed of that, well, no one comes down hard on a violinist who plays Bach beautifully but who can’t compose …

So don’t anyone pick on me here! ( – As if any of you would.)

Of course it’d be completely different if the violinist tried to pretend Bach’s music were his own.

But I don’t do that either. (OK that means it never was a “secret” as such – I just wanted to lure you here under false pretences. I’m like that.)

All I do is copy the designs which David prepares.

Well, I copy some of them.

The fine details of human faces still elude me.

(But I’ll not give up trying!)

So maybe it’s actually not too much of a risk to spend some time talking with you about stained glass design.

And the reason is, there is a useful moral at the heart of this newsletter – so it applies to people whether or not they draw.

Which means it applies to me, and maybe to you too.

Here’s the story …

The tycoon and his challenge

Well you maybe remember how we were summoned to London’s notorious Soho district to see this tycoon who’s rebuilding a mansion on top of the best hill in London?

Millions of pounds he’s spending. Tens of millions.

I mean just on the decoration.

And it’ll show.

Oh yes it’ll show. But not just any old how: it’ll show in a particular way to those who know.

See – the tycoon’s determined that nothing should look new. Everything must look original, as if it’s been in the mansion for hundreds of years.

Now maybe you also remember how, to get this commission, he challenged us to get back to him in a week with two pieces of forged and ancient-looking glass.

That was the thing: it might have been done just yesterday (which in fact it had been) but it had to look old.

Distressed.

Weary, even – like me when I look in the mirror at 5 a.m. before I’ve had my first cup of tea. You know what we English are like … (Extraordinarily beautiful once we’ve had that cup of tea.)

And we did exactly as we’d been told.

We’d already seen how all the other craftsmen were trying to please the tycoon by sending him their best samples …

And he just threw up his arms in tycoonesque rage because all their best samples looked new!

If you’re ever in a situation like this, I reckon it’s best never to try and please – just strive to understand and show it.

Which we did. First we painted two samples then roughed them up so they looked old.

Then we silver-stained the two samples and also roughed that up.

And sent them off.

And got the job.

A 25% commencement payment arrived the very next day.

In the beginning … were the designs

Having delighted our bank manager, naturally our next task was to please the client and prepare the designs.

Well, to be accurate, this was David’s task. (Yes, because I can’t draw. It’s not a secret. Whoever said it was?)

And as a measure of how well David accomplished this task, consider this point.

The tycoon and his wife are at blows with one another over 99% of the other craftsmen’s work … but they are in complete agreement over David’s designs.

They love them.

I don’t mean this boastfully because here’s the important point …

Those designs which the tycoon and his wife have fallen in love with – they’re exactly what they want.

BUT – BUT – BUT – wait for it – those designs are completely useless for us.

And I mean completely useless.

It would be a disaster if we tried to trace and shade from them.

A complete disaster.

See we as glass painters – and that includes me even though I “just” copy – can’t get the right instructions from them.

The designs work perfectly as paper-based designs in their own right – as if the images were designed only for paper – but they would fail as instructions to anyone who tried to interpret them on glass.

Now let’s take this apart …

What we’re charged to do is to design and make 16 panels in all.

Each panel is about a square yard in area / just under a square metre.

And they’re skylights – 16 stained glass skylights for the tycoon’s dining room.

So let me give you a rough idea of one scale design that David prepared:

The tycoon and the tycoon’s wife are happy – but we couldn’t paint stained glass from this

Consider the fine beast in the centre.

Up above, you can see the design the tycoon saw.

It’s not much like the clean and fresh design we’ll use:

The tycoon wouldn’t like this, nor would his wife – but it’s great for what we have to do: namely, paint on glass

So here’s my point. You’re reading this because you’re interested in glass painting. And even with a vast resource of skill (such as David definitely possesses), it’s essential to understand how some images just can’t be rendered onto glass.

I’ll say that again.

Some images just can’t be rendered onto glass.

They need to be re-drawn and re-interpreted before the glass painter can figure out what it is he/she must do.

And the point is, if you’re having problems with a design, yes, maybe it’s you (to put it bluntly) or maybe it’s the design.

See I’ve had so many e-mails from people sending photos of their cat or brother, or wife, or child – asking advice on how to paint these images onto glass.

And do you know what I say?

I say: “Re-draw the image first“, that’s what I say. Always.

And it was just the same when we painted St. Francis and St. Martha at the start of this year.

We had a fresh, bright water-colour paintings which the clients loved. A lot of work went into them. (There’s a tour right here.)

And then we also had a simple pencil sketch to guide us when we traced.

“I’m not talking to her!”

And so too with designs for a large house called Hampton Hall (a topic for one of our three films): the client saw and approved one version David made for them, and we used another version as the basis for our painting:

What the client likes is not always as what you, the glass painter, need

Some images, as they are, just cannot work on glass.

And if, like me, you cannot draw, then someone else must do the drawing or we must pick a different image to paint on glass, one that lends itself to glass …

Heaven knows, there are surely enough of those in the world for all of us.

So always think: “Can this image really be painted on glass?”

And if you don’t see how, yes, maybe it’s you (so please do ask us) or maybe it’s the image.

Best,

P.S. This all goes back to an e-mail discussion with a new and wonderful friend – Jack – who found this site in May and who wasn’t phazed at all when I said, “I’m not an artist, I’m just a technician/copyist” (or what-have-you).

The thing is, who says someone has to be able to paint faces (for example) in order for them to be considered a “really good” glass painter.

It’s often more than enough to find the kind of thing each of us does really well. I’ll settle for that.

P.P.S. I don’t take it lightly that I can’t draw. (Sometimes I despair.) All the same, I respect and celebrate David’s vast talents. Which he’s given his life to acquire. Maybe it’s my tribute not to pretend I can do the same.

Yes, of course, it’s fine to fill a jam jar or bowl and use this to wet your tracing brush.

But as with so many things in life: the more there is, the more extravagent – and sometimes even wasteful or thoughtless – many people sometimes are.

So with a jam jar or bowl, the temptation always is, to jump in and soak the brush, then return it to the palette … where now a deluge of almost Biblical proportions makes a mess of your palette and its puddle of working paint.

That’s why an egg cup can be so useful.

It reminds you or your students just to dip the brush’s tip.

Once dipped, you return to the palette, and swirl and twirl your brush until the new water has been completely absorbed by the puddle of working paint.

Then, if the puddle is fine as it is, you test and start to trace.

If it’s not yet right, you either dip the brush’s tip again, or you draw down more paint from the concentrated lump, depending on whether you need a lighter, or a darker mix.

Sure a jam jar or a bowl is fine. But, time and time again we’ve found that having just an egg cup-full of water really focusses your mind on how much/how little water you add to the palette.

And that is a marvellous thing when it comes to tracing.

Another tip tomorrow!

Best,

P.S. You’ll see from the photo how we make a sold base from modeling dough / plasticene (which, I understand, is called “pongo” in Italin). It helps prevent accidents.

See here for

our students’ arrival – a 90-second introductory video

or

yesterday’s useful tip

A brush, not a whip!

I don’t know what it is about a lot of stained glass stockists, but they seem to think one’s into flaggelation or something because that’s the only reason anyone would try and sell me one of those floppy, long-haired tracing brushes which are frequently described as “glass stainers’ brushes” – horrible, dangling things!

No! What you mostly need (again and always: mostly) is a tracing brush like the one in the picture on your right.

It’s about an inch long and ends in a point.

Ours are made by A.S. Handover of London. It’s series 99, you see a size 2 in the picture, which is what I mostly use. And this series is mostly sold to water-colour painters.

(To prove my point: Handover’s range of “glass painting brushes” are … long and dangling. I wouldn’t recommend them for many projects; and I’d certainly never recommend them to a beginner.)

Bye for now!

P.S. To be clear: Handover’s series 99 is very good but they aren’t holy relics or anything like that. You don’t need exactly these same brushes to paint well. (When you do, I’ll tell you so, and also tell you why.) Other brands will do. All you need to look for is – sable hair, ending in a good point, and about an inch or so long (26 mm).

This first clip is all about how much paint your brush holds and how far it’ll flow – when (and only when) it’s well-mixed and well-loaded, as you see right at the start. (If the video’s not showing, please check here for common problems.)

See how it just goes on and on and on? Once it’s well-mixed on your palette, your paint will flow and flow.

And now for the second clip, which is …

Flooding – Push and Spread

In one sense, flooding is easy. But because you’re used to tracing and painting, your natural instinct is to make it difficult: to flood as if you were still painting. But you aren’t. As you see, flooding is effortless and lazy (although you always have to pay attention).

All you do is push and spread the paint.

Best,

P.S. Had a question from a Canadian colleague who asked about our tracing brushes. They are sable hair and made for us by A.S. Handover in London. They are “Series 99”. For flooding, I mainly use a size 2. And for tracing in general, you’d also want sizes 0 and 1. (And a size 6 for half-tones like shadows on a full-sized face.) You can buy them individually from AS Handover or you can get a complete kit from PELI Glass. I don’t take commission.