Hill Slug Chronicles: Hot Mess Part Thirty-One: So Much to Learn, Nowhere to Put It

Spring 2022 Final

11 May 2022

I: Quarantine Panic

Stuck at home with asymptomatic Covid, I was missing three days of glassblowing. In the cabinet outside the classroom were three vases, a cat, and the vessel Tall Vase and I made for Our Instructor's goodbye present. I needed five more vases for the bottle tree, but more important, I had to get the vessel lettered and sand-blasted before next week's final.

I panicked.

I texted Low Key. She lives in East Windsor, and her slot is on Wednesday mornings. I begged her to drop the vessel off at my house. Fortunately, she was willing to do it, and fortunately I had picked up multiple packs of stick-on letters two days before I was diagnosed.

As soon as she dropped the piece off, I got to work.

I'd compiled a list of things Our Instructor says a lot:

"Put it away," which is what we say when we're ready to knock a piece off the punty and stick it in the annealer. It's always a fraught moment, because the bottom of the piece can break off with the punty, or the whole piece can crack. A few weeks ago, I called out, "Put it away," to signal to my partner to get the heavy gloves on. From the back of the room, Our Instructor said, "Put it away put it away put it away now," and those of us who know the song laughed.

"Someone will love it," Our Instructor says when one of us shows him a piece he doesn't love.

"Take your work home" is a thing that a lot of people don't do, and then the cabinet gets full.

An "art stick" is a thing people made back in the day when they were told they couldn't make dildos in class. At this point, I'd used up every lowercase t and had to get creative.

"Full rolls," because half rolls make wonky pieces. The rails are two feet long. Use them.

"Nobody listens to me," he says after we make the mistakes he warned us we'd make if we didn't listen to him. See also "take your work home."

In a pinch, one can use lowercase letters, cut a curve in a capital Z, and make do with poster putty for numbers:

Because we drive him crazy and we still don't know who the New Instructor is going to be:

I heaved a sigh of relief when I finished. If I continued to be asymptomatic (it had only been two days so far), I could get to the sand-blaster on Tuesday. What I couldn't do was mess that up. I carefully covered the yellow lip wrap with masking tape, sealed the top with bubble wrap and more tape, and then packed the piece away, putting it in a box by the front door so I wouldn't forget it.

II: Sprung!

The university rule was that I was to isolate for five days, the day of diagnosis being day 0. Hmm. I spat at 7:20 a.m. on Monday. Did that mean I'd be free at 7:20 a.m. on Saturday? No; the test results came back at 7:00 p.m., and, therefore, I was to isolate "through Saturday." Poop.

On Friday, I tried to explain to the university's text bot that, not only did I not have any symptoms today, but also that I never had any. The bot then asked me when the last time I had symptoms was. Argh! In frustration, I typed in April 25, which was the day I tested positive. The bot thanked me. I replied, "I'm trying to tell you I NEVER HAD ANY SYMPTOMS."

But then, mid-day Saturday, I got an email:

I grabbed the thank-you vessel and an N95 mask, and drove to Newtown.

There were three bottle tree vases waiting for me.

Orange, finally. I've been struggling with this frit since 2019. It cast a groovy shadow.

So did the vase made from a piece of Cherry Red rod:

I've used Garnet a handful of times. It never looks the same way twice.

I'd flubbed the tail on the most recent black and white cat. It's giving the world the finger.

But I got the pattern I wanted: white in front, black in back:

Saturday afternoon is Our Instructor's time slot. I sneaked off to the sand blaster, which, for a change, was working properly. I still had to grind the bottom to make it stand straight, though. I wrapped it again and, while Our Instructor was busy with his glass, smoothed the bottom on the wet sander in about thirty seconds.

I took pictures around the corner from the classroom, where Our Instructor couldn't see what I was doing. I texted the photos to Tall Vase, Low Key, and All the Glass. Despite my quarantine, we'd gotten it done.

At home, I put the new vases on the bottle tree. All I needed was two more, three if I wanted to move the white one back inside. Three would be better; then they'd all be transparent.

I'd have two days to do it: my usual Tuesday slot, and Wednesday afternoon, which I'd fortuitously signed up for weeks ago.

III: Student Art Show and Glass Sale

Me and my N95 were back the next day for the student art show and glass sale, the first one since Covid shut us down in 2020.

Classmate's Partner and I unpacked and priced pieces from current and former students going back years. It was fun to guess who made what. We'd be selling to raise money for charity and to replace tools in the classroom, like the hollow punty that, on its way out all semester, finally gave up the ghost while I was using it.

We priced based on size. The biggest stuff (mostly from All The Glass) would be $15, the smallest $5. A few of my pieces were in there, $5 and $10.

We each had some of our own to sell, which we put on a separate table and priced far lower than what we'd ask anywhere else. Classmate's Partner set aside a bunch of his rejects to give away for free with a purchase of $15 or more.

We really want this stuff out of our houses.

This was the view from our end of the tables. My crap was at the far end of the near table.

This was the view from the All The Glass end.

Our Instructor, Glass Ninja, and Sage were setting up for the glassblowing demonstration inside. At the same time, the student art show was open in the building next door. I went over to have a look around.

It was crowded. I took some pictures, grabbed a free soft pretzel, and zipped out.

I found my vase, in a case with a piece from Classmate's Partner (left) and LT1 (right).

Tall Vase, outed here as Guy Brudahl, is already showing in galleries, so I can share his name with impunity.

All The Glass, left, and Prodigy, right. If you enlarge the photo you can out these guys too.

Glass Ninja:

Alchemy, an artist too humble to admit it:

One of the new students, whose cats don't look like mine:

This is by the guy who wears the coolest shoes and just landed a summer job doing make-your own glass at the Corning Museum of Glass:

She won an award for this drop-vase. It's her second semester. Are we jealous? Yes, we are jealous.

Back at the sale, I set this vase aside to take home. Thread Sherpa made it.

There were big crowds after the art show awards were announced, and after the glass demo was over. The three of us working the sale filled the cash box to the point where it was difficult to close.

I had despaired of selling any of my own work, but my luck turned when I got into a conversation with a woman looking at one of my vases and told her about my bottle tree project. Her eyes lit up. "Show me all the good ones for a bottle tree!"

The two black and white reject cats sold. All three of the floppy bowl rejects sold, one to the classmate who won the award, and another who had no cash on hand, left, and came back to claim it as we were packing up.

In the end, I walked away 8 of my pieces lighter and one Thread Sherpa piece heavier.

After I washed my hands, I stood in the now-empty classroom and took a picture of the door that is the fourth wall. How could I have caught Covid in here?

III: Rush to the Finish

I had two more chances to make three more bottle tree vases: Tuesday and Wednesday.

GGP texted me early Tuesday afternoon. One of her slacker classmates had a legit excuse today: he was getting tested for Covid. I got there as early as I could, which was 2 hours into the session and in time to help one of the beginners halfway through her piece. Not into the whole glassblowing thing, she refused to make anything else. In the remaining time I banged out the three vases I needed. I didn't care if the tops were even. All I wanted was an opening wide enough to fit on the metal branches.

I swirled two colors here, hoping for a reaction that didn't really happen:

I had a bad jack line here, and instead of fixing it, I went with it, creating a semi-graceful slant:

The third one turned out all right:

At 5:00, the beginner left and Sleepless took her place. I "borrowed" a piece of rod from her, which we thought would turn out red, but it ended up being black.

In a baggie, I had collected all the scraps from the threading and feathering I'd done since the fall. I put some on the hot plate. I wasn't sure I'd remember how to make a straight cup.

I'm using this all the time at home now.

I needed two more cats for the final. Sleepless helped me get them done. I hadn't worked with this gray before. It was very stiff. The ears were tough.

Somehow, a swirl of blue got mixed in on the first cat. Kittens get into stuff; these things happen.

The second one was cleaner.

I made more on Wednesday, but none would be out in time for the final.

IV: Final

It was fortuitous that the dean of the art program came into the classroom, dressed in sweats and a worn t-shirt, to make the announcement of Our Instructor's retirement official. I took the opportunity to present our present, wrapped in newspaper, as we do.

"I have so much glass at home already, " he complained. Then he opened it. "Okay. I might keep this one."

I babbled through my series of series. The vases weren't part of it; they were there because I'd just picked them up from the cabinet, but I talked about them anyway.

The cats wound up on top of a shelf, surrounding a bowl of ornaments that now looked like yarn the kittens were after.

V: Purge

After the final, everything on the Window Sill of Judgment has to go. I managed to achieve this before midnight.

The two greens feather cup became part of my permanent collection, which I wasn't planning on until I dropped a timed LED tea light into it.

Saint Polychromatus the Bottle Tree is complete:

Saint Vitreous has gained a head, bottom center. They now number eleven.

Spiders on Drugs has survived another winter on the rock:

Saint Orbitus is complete.

All the branches on Saint Cullet are full:

There was still the matter of the things I made on Wednesday. I went to pick them up on Saturday. Alchemy and Cool Shoes were at one bench, Our Instructor and Glass Ninja at the other.

I grabbed a piece of chalk and drew on the floor (which is a thing we do):

"So much to learn, nowhere to put it."

Then I got busy judging the pieces I'd made on Wednesday. I'd been trying for long pieces, something I've rarely done, and never on purpose. It was clear I'd have to do this a lot more to get it right.

The first vase was just plug-ugly.

I sawed the top off and beveled the opening on the wet sander.

Better, I guess.

Two years ago I'd have been happy with this. Now? Not so much.

I'd gone with the uneven top look on this scrap thread vase as well, and the more I look at it, the more I wish I hadn't.

Maybe. Does the unevenness add to the motion?

Same thing here, for a pattern I'm definitely going to try again in the fall.

The last thing I'd done on Wednesday was use a piece of rod that Classmate's Partner had made himself and left in the oven for one of us to use. My partner that day flopped a perfect bowl, and I felt pressure to try one too, even though I'd set up for a tall vase.

It was a failure, but it failed in a way that I ended up liking. These aren't my colors at all, but they're from Classmate's Partner, and he makes controlled chaos vases anyway.

One side dripped and fused to the outside.

The opposite side pinched itself off:

In the final ten minutes, I used up a pile of Gold Ruby frit to make a large ornament:

When I turned around, Alchemy had edited my grafiti:

"Learned so much, nowhere to put the results."

Same thing, really.

I packed my stuff up and headed out, stopping to take a picture of an anonymous glass bunny hidden between a retaining wall and a bush.

I set the Wednesday pieces on the Window Sill of Judgment. A tea light would not rescue the green mess. I put it in a box marked for next year's student sale.

Classmate's Partner's controlled chaos didn't need a tea light to find itself in my permanent collection.

The grassy scrap vase didn't need the light either; it went onto the kitchen window sill, where I will stare at its imperfections until whenever.

Sunday was rainy too, and I spent the morning cleaning, moving, and purging pieces from the permanent collection into the student sale box. Somehow I freed up three shelves in the process.