dilkROM.com

The Hot Shop

(written on Nov 11^th, 2004)

Underneath the colossal tracks of the monorail and amongst an overwhelming current of crack-heads and speed freaks lies the warmest place in all of Seattle. Automobile-sized annealers and crucible containing furnaces keep the concrete-floored room incredibly hot, especially during the sunny days of summer. The three gloryholes glare at you like miniature glowing suns, burning bright orange and red with flames that jump out and lick the edges of the stone doors. Wooden benches are strategically placed, one in front of each gloryhole, with partnering tool tables at their sides. A solid, inanimate wax drip can be seen clinging to the edge of the wooden surface for which metal utensils lie in a planned layout similar to that of a surgeon's tools. The constant white noise of the large, industrial-sized ceiling fans can be faintly heard over the Johnny Cash or Perfect Circle album that spins in circles on the stereo's CD tray. A feeling of creation lingers in the air, mixed with the smell of burning wood and melted wax. Numerous bodies, drenched in sweat and dressed in overalls or shorts, move about the room in what seems to be a choreographed dance.

Molten hot glass is gathered from the liquid-like center of the crucible onto a blowpipe, and then carried to a bench for shaping. A breath of air is pushed through the tip of the pipe as a quickly dancing thumb is placed to cover it. The trapped, hot air rises slowly, and a bubble emerges from the end of the pipe, expanding the round ball of glass that clings to the end of the metal rod. What is now merely just a bubble will change over time to take on a shape that is much more recognizable. Vases, bowls, cups, goblets, anything can be made. The shelves that are fastened to the walls hold brightly colored works of art, each piece awaiting patiently to be bought and owned by someone new. The gallery that acts as a front to the studio is also riddled with trinkets that sit behind display cases, on top of podiums, and even hang from the ceiling.

Next door, as you enter into the color shop, you will pass through another gallery. This one, the fine arts gallery, contains a vast assortment of figurative sculptures made by employees and friends of the studio. A glass sumo wrestler stands with legs spread apart, back hunched over, next to an elegant and erect geisha. Large and small dragons clutter the window shelf that faces the street, and a beautifully serene jester bows gracefully in the corner. A small vertical display case near the back shows off a variety of sculpted goblets and a pair of torchworked seahorses. This is the part of the studio where all the real art is displayed.

All day long, people come and go, stopping in to witness the magic of glass blowing, and sometimes even signing up for lessons. Tourists, students, teachers, artisans, and business men all fall victim to the hypnotic trance that one is put into by watching the process of creating art with glass. Many questions are asked, and some are answered eagerly, while many more are energetically ignored. Although just about anybody enjoys attention, there are times that the glass demands complete focus and concentration. This unique and amazing amorphous solid cannot be neglected if one wishes to be able to coerce it into forming a desirable shape.

Many of my days have been spent in the warm, comforting hot shop that resides under the monorail tracks in Belltown. I have seen a lot, and learned even more. I have met people who still continue to inspire me even today, and I have opened so many doors of opportunity that I feel as if I have entered a maze. Whether or not I return to Seattle after my four years at art school, I will always remember the feeling of being involved in something great, surrounded by others who never ceased to amaze or encourage me.