PATE-DE-VERRE

by Suzanne B. Stern

Glass is arguably the most versatile material produced by man. Its creative possibilities seem limitless;visions brought into tangible form by a mixture of science, technical mastery and artistic determination.The boundaries dictated by the material's structure are clear and fixed. Science reminds the glass worker of his limits: heat induced strain, expansion coefficients, flow rates and cooling cycles. The anarchy of creation then pushes and pulls and cajoles these boundaries, expanding glass' possibilities. As the French poet Paul Valery wrote, "Of all the arts I know, none are more adventuresome, more uncertain, hence nobler than the arts invoked by fire".

Although the techniques of casting glass dates back to ancient Mesopotamia, the term pate-de-verre, "paste of glass," originated in France in the late 19th century. The process consists of mixing colored, glass powders with an organic binder, layering the mixture into a heat tolerant mold and firing at a temperature high enough for the glass particles to fuse and form a cohesive mass. Much like champlevé enamel, pate-de-verre is a balancing of binder concentration and particle size, kiln temperature and firing time. With the aid of gravity, the correct balance of heat and time produces a successful casting.

Pate-de-verre is synonymous with the Art Nouveau movement and the French glass masters of the late 19th and early 20th century. Emile Gallé, René Lalique, Henri Cros, Almeric Walter and Daum immediately come to mind. All these artists utilized a variety of glass working techniques. None were as well suited to the subject matter and fluidity of the Art Nouveau style as pate-de-verre.

Since I have a background in metals and am self-taught in pate-de-verre, my casting style is based on the lost wax technique used for metal casting. An original is carved, usually in wax, and covered in the same investment or plaster like material that is used for casting silver and gold. Once the plaster is dry, the wax original is melted out and the cavity filled with a glass mixture. The particle size I use for most of my work is a 65 mesh, similar in size to an enamalist's fines. As with enameling, the finer the particle size the more opaque the glass appears, due to tiny bubbles trapped within the glass. Since most of my work is small and highly detailed, I find it easier for the eye to register the image when the glass is translucent rather than completely transparent. I often obtain shading and create patterns by grade sifting my glass and alternating particle size within the same piece. The wings of the Luna Moth "The Moon" are an example of this technique.

Pate-de-verre is not limited to organic themes. I find that my work often reflects the nature of the material my original is carved from. The additive process I use to work a soft wax is always more organic than the subtractive method of carving a hard wax. The original for the Peony Leaf tile was molded using a wax soft enough to be shaped with the heat from my hands. The bracelets were carved from a hard, plastic like wax; the same wax that a jeweler uses to carve ring prototypes.

My conceptual motivations often come from the world around me—a color I'm attracted to or a comment a person has made. Many times I am inspired by a literary work. I feel that it's important for artists to look outside of their particular medium for inspiration. If I were to primarily look at the art of other jewelers or glass artists, I feel that my work would become flat and intellectually shallow. Good literature stimulates me emotionally and intellectually, but more importantly to my art, it allows me to create my own visual imagery. I pull my own concept into reality rather than running the risk of simply repealing something I've seen.

My current series, the Periodic table, is a good example of working from a literary reference. The Italian chemist and author Primo Levi, is one of my favorite writers. His book The Periodic Table is a collection of short stories relating different elements to his experience as a victim of the Holocaust and as a young man in love; always relating his professional reality, really his belief system rooted in science, to his emotional and spiritual self. His work is clean and concise. His language is meticulously choses, every adjective is perfect, remove one word and the rhythm of the story is compromised.

Levi*s writing makes me think about my own motivations as an artist and as a technician. How can my work be cleaner, deeper, more infused with my belief systems. For an artist that focuses on particles to construct a whole, exploring atoms seems only natural. The first piece in the series was im interpretation of hydrogen—a source of combustion. The second element was oxygen. a supporter of combustion. It's not necessarily important that one understands the relationship I've drawn between "The Moon" and the element oxygen. What's important is my exploration and art that it creates.

Editor's Note: See front and back covers of this issue
for works in pate-de-verre by Suzanne B. Stern.