All set now to paint the fierce lion tomorrow: tracing (outlining), then flooding. And once the flooding is dry, I’ll pick out his highlights using “the chalk method” – just like you do with stained glass lettering.

The prototype (not stained yet) came out fine (see right). Pin It

As usual, the water-colour design (see slideshow here) is more use to our client than it is to me the glass painter. Which is why I spent an hour making a pencil tracing which shows me the key lines and highlights I need to do my work:

The design - here's what I need to do my work

It will be a big piece as painted glass goes (430 mm / 17 inches across) – and worth every effort to make it the best it can be.

Best,

P.S. I describe “the chalk method” in an article I wrote for Glass Patterns Quarterly (Summer 2009) – see it here.

P.P.S. Is this something you find helpful – writing a plan before you start? (I do.)

My plan - 17 steps to paint the fiercest lion

Let me tell you that the key points are: have a plan (don’t usually invent things as you go along), hold your glass firmly with one hand, work from the bridge with the other, choose your highlighting tool with care (make your own as needed), be confident (not scratchy, unless scratchy is what you really want), consider stencils (especially if you have a repeating pattern), remember how the back of the glass is also good for stained glass highlights, and use your hands as needed (just be sure they’re clean).

Right, now I’ve said my piece, will you also have a look?

The design can “make” you rush

A big problem you’ve maybe met is how, with the design in front of you, you want to rush and hurry and get it finished.

And yet …

And yet with everything you do with kiln-fired glass painting …

• Undercoating
• Tracing
• Strengthening
• Shading
• Highlighting and softening -

… yes, even cleaning the glass before you start: everything has its own pace which you must recognize and respond to.

Of course, experienced glass painters work faster than newcomers (like David sped through his undercoats in the video he made you last time).

But – if (that is) they still enjoy their work (and by no means all of them do: what a loss this is) – even fast-working and experienced glass painters respect the necessary rhythm of things.

Indeed, there are two perils of rushing.

First, you can make a mistake.

Second, the work becomes a chore, a burden – a means to an end, and rather heartless.

Which is no good – no good at all.

Particularly tracing – we instinctively want to see the outline

Take tracing.

Yes, tracing is a good example because we fixate so much on forming the outline:

“Thank goodness: the contour lines are all in place – everyone can see what it is now! – I can relax!”

I know this feeling well.

We often rush to form the outline - I know this feeling well

And it’s completely wrong.

Maybe the design has just eight lines. Maybe it has 749 … the number doesn’t matter: if you take them all at the correct pace, you’ll get them right, and you’ll also enjoy them for their own sake as opposed to simply rushing through with them.

On the other hand, when you rush tracing, then all kinds of things go wrong.

Like when you rush a curve, your brush can change shape or skid.

And when you rush a straight line, your paint won’t flow. (Yes! Often it’s because you’re moving too fast – you’re using your brush and glass paint as if it were a felt-tipped pen.)

To get it right – which doesn’t mean you go at a snail’s pace: it just means you don’t rush, is all – you have to move across from our twenty-first century world and adopt a very different way of doing things.

Getting one stroke right at a time - and then moving onto the next stroke

For example, each time you load and shape your brush, your thoughts are focused on the line or two in front of you: only on them: and you absolutely gather your attention and make sure you do everything you must to get them right. Just those one or two strokes.

And then you move on – to the next one or two strokes.

In a sense, your ambitions are very modest, and that’s exactly what helps you succeed. You see, all it is is “just” one good line, and then another, and then another, just one at a time, each one in its own time.

Unlike our 21st century

And why do I say this is so different from our twenty-first century world?

Well, when I was down in London the other week, I had someone “talking” to me while they were also texting on their phone.

Glass painting by contrast – OK, crafts are: one thing at a time, and mindfully.

Like I said: that way you’ll do it right, and also enjoy the journey.

Now let me finish by telling you a story. You’ll see the connection in no time at all …

A rush-hour performance

In Washington DC at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, a man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 58 minutes. He was a busker, a street musician, right?

During that time, maybe 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

And what exactly happened?

You’re a glass painter – an honorary outsider, as it were! – so if you don’t already know, well, you can probably guess.

After 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule. About 4 minutes later the violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw money into his hat and walked on without stopping. At 6 minutes, a young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

10 minutes in, a 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent – without exception – forced their children to move on quickly.Some clue there surely …

At 45 minutes, the musician was still playing beautifully. Six people stopped and listened for a short while. And maybe 20 gave him money and continued walking.

For a few dollars more

After 1 hour, the violinist finished playing. There was hardly any appreciation … just one or two people at the very end who had sensed they were witnessing something special.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played some of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, he’d sold-out a theatre in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.

This is true. It was an experiment. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people’s priorities.

Myself, when I first read about this a while back, I wondered: if we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made, well, I’m not so very different (even if I wish I were).

Which means I too must be missing so many other things as I rush through life. I’m sure I do – yes, all in the foolish rush to “get things done”.

And that’s what made me think of glass painting and not hurrying what you do.

That’s my point here.

OK, my students often think I’m crazy, I can live with that (for a couple of hours)

You know, when I’m teaching, it often takes a while for my students to stop thinking I’m weird. You see, I might spend three minutes tidying my palette and mixing my paint even though there are perhaps “only” four or five brush-strokes to paint.

And sometimes, when a student’s painting and I’m watching, sometimes I cry out: “Goodness me, your palette looks gorgeous – look at it: isn’t it beautiful? Can you see how completely perfect it is for what you want to do?” And they look at me as if I’m … well, like I said: they maybe think me strange because they haven’t yet got the confidence or experience to know exactly what they’re aiming for. (Which is why they’re spending time with me and David.)

I am not crazy - this palette looks gorgeous!

Yes, to start with, my students often think me mad. But – after a couple of hours – they see my point. It all starts to “sink in”. And then …

Then they’re like the few commuters who stopped and listened. They too fall in love with scenes like this one here:

So lovely ...

And, if you don’t yet have this confidence, that’s also what I also want for you.

Take this on trust until you see if from your own experience: don’t rush the tracing, the strengthening, the softening and shading, the highlighting – don’t even rush the cleaning and the undercoating: set aside the twenty-first century world.

Don’t “rush to work”.

This is so beautiful - it's important you enjoy it!

The whole point – yes, when you’re in the midst of it, it is the whole point: nothing else matters, even if you’re being paid – the whole point is the process of making something as it should be made.

Only then will it be fit for the rest of its time, whatever becomes of us the maker, the parent.

Makes sense to you?

Great!

And in that spirit of attentiveness, be sure to call back for our next three posts.

Together, we’ll look back on many of the tips and techniques we’ve shared with you this last year.

Happy glass painting!

P.S. You can read the original Post article right here. It’s a couple of years old but still relevant.

Right! In his last post, Stephen challenged you to do it with one hand tied behind your back.

Undercoating, I mean.

And several people wrote how maybe they were heavy-handed, because no matter how they tried, their glass always spun away across the light-box.

So I reckon the best thing now is to show you what we mean.

Sounds good to you?

Great! So you know what to do now, don’t you – read on!

Undercoats are great because …

OK, if you missed Stephen’s earlier post, please see it here – it explains four big benefits of undercoating your glass before you trace and shade it.

That’s why a light touch is best

And Stephen’s point was, it’s virtually hands-free – you generally don’t need to hold the glass you’re painting.

This is important because a light touch will give you a gentle, even undercoat.

OK so maybe that’s easier said than done.

Which is why I dug through our video archives and spliced these clips together for you here.

Please note: I’m not showing you how to mix your paint or load your brush or anything like that right now.

All I want to do is show you how to move your brush across the surface of the glass, and also how to blend your paint.

Is all!

So turn on your volume and have a look at this, why don’t you …

If the video’s not showing (like you’ve just got a rectangular black box) then maybe you need the latest version of Adobe Flash.

And if the play-back isn’t smooth, just hit the Pause button, and let the whole film load.

Thing is, undercoats are so useful, they’re absolutely worth practicing until you get them right.

And now you know: the best test of doing them right is … you barely need to hold the glass.

Happy glass painting!

Here’s an important tip for when you paint an undercoat or “wash” or “matt” (or however you call it) …

Undercoats – an important tip

OK – so take a few moments to check this photo on your right.

See anything special?

What do you reckon?

Actually, there’s nothing special: that’s the point. I’ll explain why in just a moment.

For now, let’s list the four top reasons why you should always consider painting an undercoat before you trace:

1. It’s a lovely surface to trace on – far nicer than bare glass
2. You know all of the glass is free from grease (proof: it’s covered with an undercoat)
3. The undercoat reminds you to keep your fingers to the edges and away from the surface where you want to paint – so your glass stays clean, even over several days
4. When you’ve finished your tracing, you can cut through the undercoat with sticks, scrubs and fingers, and so make highlights in a single firing … gorgeous, and economical as well
   

There you have it: four excellent reasons why you should always consider painting an undercoat before you trace. It isn’t always right. But you must always consciously decide to (or not).

Now, what was peculiar about the photo? Like I said, nothing in particular. And that’s the point.

Like, when you trace, you don’t usually hold your glass (usually, you hold your bridge). See here:

When you trace, you don't usually hold your glass ...

When you flood and block in, you don’t usually hold your glass (once again, you mostly hold your bridge):

When you trace, you don't usually hold your glass ...

Even when you silver stain … yes, you got it! You don’t usually hold your glass:

Even when you stain, you don't usually hold your glass ...

And it’s no different when you come to undercoating – that’s the point:

Just so when you paint an undercoat - you don't usually hold your glass ...

Now this is important because when most people undercoat, I don’t know what happens: maybe they imagine their glass will wriggle away unless they grasp it and pin it down.

But that means they’re being too heavy-handed with their brush.

When the brush is well loaded and well shaped, then you only need the slightest bit of pressure against the glass for the paint to flow.

Undercoating – it’s virtually hands-free

And that is why, even when you undercoat, you scarcely need to touch your glass. This is actually the proof you need that your paint is well mixed and your brush is well loaded and correctly shaped:

When your paint is the right consistency and your brush is well shaped, you don't need to hold your glass ...

Your hand’s just there to steady the glass in case it wobbles. But it probably won’t.

Really, mix the paint well, then load and shape your brush – and I reckon you can do it with your hand behind your back.

Give it a try, and let me know!

P.S. If you want to know more about undercoating, it’s all explained in this guide here and all shown on these films here.

In my last post I gave you 9 tips for keeping a steady hand when tracing, or – “How to stop the wobbles“.

The last tip was, not too much wine. (Well, actually, none at all is best. At least before.)

Which reminds me how David’s been teetotal for 30 years.

Not a single drop.

Thankfully, that’s not the secret of his amazing skill, though as I say, you’ll definitely paint better when you’re “dry”.

No, other things also count – like your painting bridge and how you treat it …

Love your painting bridge as if your life depended on it

Let me put it to you like this. Suppose you need a ladder to do an important job. You’ll take time to think where best to place it. You’ll also check it several times to make sure it’s stable.

OK, that’s also how you should think about your bridge.

Treat your bridge as a friend, not a stranger

Now I know you won’t break your neck if you get it wrong.

It’s just that if you get it wrong, I promise you you will not paint the stroke you want to paint.

But here’s what often happens when we trace: we fixate on the stroke itself – on what we want to do.

And actually you have to fixate on the context – on whatever allows you to get it right.

The bridge – is part of the context.

Your bridge is a tool

Yes, a tool.

But most people don’t think of it like this.

They think, like:

“It feels awkward, I wish I didn’t have to use it

And also:

“I’m not really sure what I should be doing with this but other glass painters use it so I suppose I should as well …”

No, most people don’t consider the bridge a tool. They pretty much overlook it, or think of it as an uncomfortable necessity.

But here’s what master glass painters quietly know: they know they must resist the temptation to rush forward to the brush-stroke.

And if that’s new to you, then that’s what you must also do.

Before each stroke, take 10 seconds to consider: is the bridge in the right position?

All right, so what happens when I move it a little bit this way or a tiny bit that way?

You’ll be amazed how just moving it 10 degrees can make such a huge difference.

Small changes make a big difference

You’ll also find it helps to reflect for a moment on how the bridge is there to guide you.

So put it exactly where you want it: really take time to consider where you want it. Also check it’s stable. Get in the habit of doing this every time you paint a stroke.

Every time.

Yes, it’s second-nature to me and David. And repetition and constant practice will also make it second-nature to you. Imagine how that’ll improve your painting: and isn’t that worth aiming for?

All the best,

P.S. I’ve got a lot of time for Maurice de Vlaminck, not least because he said how “Visiting museums bastardizes your personality just as hobnobbing with priests makes you lose your faith” … (Self-serving and self-important curators of the world: you need to wake up and listen! Is the museum a way to improve your C.V., or is it actually there to nourish our soul?)

But last weekend we visited not one but two museums which restored our faith.

The first was the breath-taking Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam.

The second one was smaller but vividly inspiring: the museum of flat glass and enamel art in Ravenstein, where we were given a very warm welcome by Mr Jan Klink, the founder and director.

We saw both museums as guests of PELI Glass who had invited us to the Netherlands to give a whip-cracking five-hour seminar called “Fire less, paint better”.

One glass painter said she’d waited 20 years to learn what we had taught her in just one day.

So when I say you must pay attention to your bridge, this is not about me, it’s valuable advice.

Your bridge is a simple but perfect tool to help you trace the perfect stroke

Many people ask how to keep a steady hand when tracing. They say their hands sometimes wobble and shake. Well, there are various things to remember here. I’ll tell you about the most important ones.

All 9 of them.

Oh – plus a free bonus, number 10.

1. Have a plan – a complete plan

When you paint a test piece, it’s fine to leave it to chance, to explore and see what happens. Absolutely fine. But when it comes to do the piece for real, you must know your plan inside-out and keep to it. This will help your concentration. And your concentration will help keep your hands steady.

2. Well-mixed paint

If your paint is well-mixed, it will do what you want it do, not what it wants to. (Big difference.) When you trace, you probably spend about 20% of your time looking after your paint and palette. This surprises many people, because they’re so used to everything being “ready-made” for them, but … glass paint just isn’t like that. Glass paint needs your constant attention. Then and only then will it do what you want.

3. Don’t overload the brush

Too much paint and even the smallest shake of your hand will make paint flow where you don’t want it to, which means your line will wobble. So, when you load your brush, it’s usually just the tip which makes contact with the pool of glass paint. That way, the hairs absorb and suck up only as much paint as they can (they don’t get over-loaded).

4. Keep your brush as dry as possible

Each time I wash my brush (and I wash it every 5 minutes or so), I flick it to the floor two or three times and shake out every last drop of water. You see, the last thing you want is water in your brush. Why? – Because it secretly flows down and interferes with the paint you’ve just taken so much trouble to mix and load your brush with. Then when something then goes wrong, of course your confidence is shaken, and of course your hand gets wobbly and uncertain. Disaster.

5. Don’t push too hard with the brush

Most of the time, it’s just the tip which does the work (you choose the correct size brush for the typical width of line you want to make, so even with a big brush it’s still mostly just the tip). If the paint is right (see point 2), it will flow evenly and smoothly from the tip. Your job is (mostly) just to maintain the same amount of pressure, not to change it (because that will change the rate at which the paint flows).

6. Keep your bridge clean

If your bridge is dirty, your hand will stick and slide. Same goes for your hands: keep them clean. Then you can move smoothly up and down the bridge. No wobble.

7. Be decisive

For each stroke – and I mean each and every stroke – decide where you will start it and decide where you will stop it. It’s like walking a tightrope: don’t look down, look straight ahead and just … go … for … it.

8. Be reasonable

David can trace or paint for maybe eight hours a day with a rest every hour or so. I can trace for maybe half that time. He knows his limits, I know mine, you must know yours. Take heart here. Each time you do things right, your limits will expand. So even if it’s “just” for 15 minutes, tell yourself it’s just for 15 minutes, have a reasonable expectation about what you can do in 15 minutes, and you’ll be amazed. Problems happen when someone decides they’ll paint all day, and their concentration isn’t that far advanced; or when they say they’ll trace a whole face in 20 minutes when really they need two hours. These mistakes make the hands wobble!

9. Not too much coffee and wine

Lastly, not too much coffee. Also no point in painting if any one’s drunk too much wine the night before – really, it’s better to sweat it off and do other things.

Fire less, paint better

Right now David and I are busy preparing for the seminar we’ll give on Saturday when we fly to the Netherlands and spend a whole day with 10 fellow glass painters who want to see our techniques in action.

We’ll focus on one particular piece of painted glass.

By the end of the day, everyone will understand how, when they fire less, they also paint better.

All the best,

10. Know when you’re brush can’t handle it …

Did you know this?

Tracing brushes go through three stages:

1. When you first get them, they’re stiff – you need to work them in, because they won’t do what you ask them to.
2. Next – if you care for them – they have a good, long time when they are responsive and full of spring. They are a joy to paint with.
3. But the day comes, when they cannot lift their head.

Even a pro will have problems with a brush that’s begging for retirement …

When your brush is past its best, it's time to say "Goodbye" no matter how much you love it

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]]> http://www.realglasspainting.com/stained-glass-painting-techniques/2011/11/14/9-tips/feed/ 0 http://www.realglasspainting.com/stained-glass-painting-techniques/2011/09/22/stained-glass-front-door-part-2/ http://www.realglasspainting.com/stained-glass-painting-techniques/2011/09/22/stained-glass-front-door-part-2/#comments Thu, 22 Sep 2011 10:27:45 +0000 Stephen Byrne http://www.realglasspainting.com/?p=11104

Stained glass rose window - the techniques we used

No, I haven’t forgotten how, a while ago, I promised you the low-down on the techniques we used to silver stain this gorgeous window on the left.

OK, maybe it’s more than a while, but good things come to those who wait …

The client’s brief was, his window had to have the ‘”Wow!” effect’.

And the ‘”Wow!” effect’ was what our client got.

If you’re interested in the story of its design, then see here now – and just be sure to come back afterwards to learn how it was done.

Here now are the techniques. There’s nothing magical. But the effects you can achieve are extraordinary.

The glass

Glass is your canvas – sometimes it’s coloured, sometimes it isn’t: sometimes it’s textured, sometimes it isn’t. Always, the glass must support your work – and the big point is, this is absolutely not a partnership of equals: after all, if someone looks at your painted window and comments on the glass, that’s a real pity. So really, you choose the glass which best allows your planned techniques to “sing” as the design requires – because, when your techniques are triumphant in this way, it’s not the glass which people see, but what’s been done with it, which is how you want the tale to end.

This is a tricky balancing act because of course the glass can either be too weak or strong. If it’s too weak, you end up doing more work than necessary, and it’s very easy to go too far. If the glass is too strong, then you the glass painter end up fighting it, shouting over it (so to speak) in order to make your own voice heard. So like I say, choosing glass is tricky.

And yes, it’s very easy to be led astray by colour.

Indeed, colour is a bit like the sirens which Odysseus heard – you remember that story? These sirens were enchantresses. They sat on dangerous rocks and sang bewitching melodies. When passing sailors heard the sirens’ song, desire drove them mad – they wrecked their ships upon the rocks, and the sirens dragged them to a watery grave. But wily Odysseus was determined to hear the sirens’ song and live. So he blocked his sailors’ ears with wax and had himself lashed to the mast, to prevent him diving overboard.

Now here’s the point. You, the glass painter, when you choose your glass, are like Odysseus listening to the sirens: you must experience colour’s full seduction, yet you must also control yourself and allow wise judgement to prevail. Tricky! – But hey! that’s your job.

You just look at the design, consider the techniques you plan to use, then choose the glass accordingly – and very, very carefully.

So you remember the coloured sketch which David made:

Coloured sketch of literary agent's rose window

Here’s the glass we chose for section 2 – it’s hand-made, streaky amber:

Hand-made, streaky amber

What we did was cut this glass so the streaks coincided with the areas we planned to shade with silver stain.

That’s how we used the glass to support our work: we made sure that our work appropriately controlled and mastered the underlying colour, and I’ll take you through the steps in just a moment.

For now, and for the record (though I’ll leave their techniques on one side for now), for section 1 we used a darker streaky amber which also contained some gold-pink (so called because the pink colour is literally derived from gold, which means it’s kind of pricey). For section 3 we used a streaky red (and acid-etched, amongst other things).

So here’s the cut glass with nothing done to it yet. That’s why it all looks thin, washed out and insubstantial:

Cut glass with nothing done to it - yet ...

But it’s section 2 I want to focus on right now.

And this is what we did.

The technique

First we covered the whole surface of each piece of glass with a light coat of Lavender oil. You just sprinkle it with oil, then use a wide brush to spread it evenly:

First sprinkle the glass with Lavender, then spread the oil evenly across its whole surface

Sometimes you also need to use a badger and blend it smooth, sometimes you don’t. Only you can be the judge of that by checking there’s just a thin film of oil over the entire surface of the glass.

Next, we used silver stain plus Sandalwood Amyris, thinned with just a little Lavender. (The DVDs show you exactly how this is done.) And we applied this thickish stain wherever the “golden shadows” were meant to fall:

Next, silver stain thickly applied on top of the Lavender undercoat

Then it’s just a question of blending stain and undercoat together …

Blend stain and undercoat together

… – until you create the gentle shapes and shadows you want:

Lovely softened and gently shaded silver stain (unfired)

And yes – it’s the undercoat of neat Lavender oil which allows you to soften and shade your silver stain like this.

Then you fire the glass – and that’s it.

There you have it. Yes, simple steps - undercoat: stain: blend – but magnificent effects. Here I’m absolutely not talking about the particular window which we made (although I myself like it very much). I just want you to get the message how you can use these same steps to enrich your very own work:

Simple steps with magnificent effects

I hope you find this useful. I hope you adapt these techniques and use them in your own way. If you need more information about mixing and using silver stain, then see this download and also watch these films.

Best,

P.S. I know, I know – last week I promised you I’d “dish the (truthful) dirt” on an unreliable supplier – and I will. Next time. (Or maybe the time after that, I’ll see how I feel.) It’s just that this time I wanted to give you something … uplifting.

By way of saying “thank you” for all your helpful comments on our last post, we’ve made you a new, exclusive video demonstration.

Stained glass tracing: here’s how to think about it in a very different, useful way  …

Stained glass tracing – a common mistake

You see, the trouble is, it’s a common mistake to rush your tracing.

But I don’t mean to rush your strokes.

No, not your strokes – just watch this video and you’ll see exactly what I mean.

You’ll discover what it is you just can’t rush …

1. Turn on your volume
2. Hit “Play” and let the video load
3. Watch – and learn what we do to guarantee each stroke is a perfect stroke …

And see what you will see:

(Video not showing? Just got a rectangular black box? Maybe you need the latest version of Adobe Flash.)

Like the video?

You see the “twizzles” between each stroke?

That’s what you must do.

Those “twizzles” mix your paint and also load and shape your brush. It’s not “rocket science”. You just need to copy what we do here.

Yes indeed, it’s so useful to watch and learn.

It’s how Stephen learned from me, it’s how I learned from Patrick Reyntiens

And you?

All the best,

P.S. Don’t miss out – start getting your own copy of our free email newsletter right now:

Today a selection of topics. Two of them are provocative (me and my big mouth). So let’s start where the seas are calm.

1. Lead Lines

Our last post on stained glass silhouettes provoked the question, Where are the lead lines?

Which is a good question because with all that gorgeous flooding, the lead lines are hard to see.

Take this initial sketch for the stained glass ravens:

Initial sketch for stained glass ravens

Here’s the finished glass:

Stained glass ravens

For which the cut lines are as follows:

Cut lines for the stained glass ravens

It can get confusing (in a nice way) because we used a lot of streaky glass, and this gave us the potential for a lot of variation within any single piece of glass. Like here with the panel of curlews – which is about as wide as your computer screen in real life:

Stained glass curlews

So here’s the cut line:

Lead line for stained glass curlews

That’s the thing about stained glass silhouettes: bold design, good glass plus careful silhouetting – it’s a winning combination.

Which brings us to the next topic.

2. Flooding

A colleague writes:

I’ve been working my way through the silhouette examples in Part 1, and I’ve learned a lot about glass painting.

But I have a persistent problem. Within the body of the flooded areas I can readily achieve the “millpond” stillness you refer to. And when it’s fired, the body of the flood comes out smooth, uniformly opaque and without any cracks/blisters.

My problem is where the wet flood washes up against dry paint i.e. the trace lines, or perhaps another piece of flooding that is already dry.

The paint is non-uniform in these places, and when it fires a crack often opens up along the boundary between the flood and the dry paint.

Let’s tackle the two problems – trace lines, and another piece of flooding that’s already dry – in turn.

Trace lines

Now you know we focus on technique. The reason is, this gives us something quantifiable to talk about with you. It also gives you something measurable and reproducible to copy if you wish to.

But … but … but! The big “but” is, there are usually many ways of doing things. And sometimes the way you do things in order to learn will not always be the best way for you to do them when you’re an expert.

So the first thing I want to say here is, when you flood, it isn’t written in blood that you must have trace lines within which you flood.

Far from it.

Right now in the studio we’re painting lots of dragon-infested columns to decorate the tycoon’s stained glass panels. The dragons are flooded – they’re silhouettes. But we haven’t traced and strengthened them first. They’re going in directly. The reason is, they’re small – each one about the length of one finger – and they’d become too fussy if we traced them first. Without tracing, they’re more immediate and lively.

I’ll post a photo as soon as I can and you’ll see exactly what I mean.

The point always is: learn the techniques, adjust them as needed, do what works best.

And in the case of silhouettes, there’s no law which says you can’t flood a shape directly using nothing but the design beneath the glass to guide you.

But … when you do trace first, two quick points:

1. It is good technique to conceal the trace lines beneath the flooding,
2. … which means the trace lines mustn’t be too thick – just a gentle boundary, not a 12-foot high, rabbit-proof fence.

Then, with good flooding, your silhouette won’t blister or crack where it covers your trace line.

Another piece of flooding that’s already dry

The fact is, you can’t avoid a seam if you flood wet paint against another piece of flooding that’s already dry.

And this is where you can maybe think differently about how you flood.

Let me explain.

Say you want to flood a design like this:

Stained glass silhouette tile

When someone’s learning, of course they’ll start at the top, then work their way around, until they return to where they started:

When you're learning, this is how to do it first

But once you’ve got the hang of flooding, you’ll see it’s perfectly possible to work around both sides at once, a little at a time, until both sides meet up with one another at the bottom:

Flooding is actually a very quick technique, so this is how you'll do it once you know how

It’s the same whatever design you paint: don’t leave anything to chance:

Figure out how you’re going to approach it before you start.

That way, if it does wrong, you know what to change.

And if it goes right, it’ll be the best you can do. Which is exactly what we want for you.

3. Resin

Nice and peaceful so far. Now it’s time to take the gloves off.

Another colleague writes about some lovely 19th century stained glass windows that some idiot “restored” about 15 years ago:

It looks like somebody used normal enamel paint and other stuff to try and imitate the picture pieces.

Then they covered the complete window with some kind of clear resin about 1-2mm thick. The lead is not covered – only each and every piece of glass.

But with the sun and weather, the resin started peeling a few years back. It curls along the edges, then drops to the floor.

The problem is that the resin takes with it the top layer of the glass and the paint …

You won’t be surprised to hear that there are very limited funds to cover the cost of the urgent work that’s needed.

Now maybe there’s a solvent which can lift the remaining resin without also corroding the paint beneath … I don’t know.

What I do know is, it’s a tough world, and I want our studio to survive so that we can continue doing really good work.

Which means, if we were approached to do this work, we’d either do it as an act of charity or we’d walk away.

Most likely we’d walk away, because we work very hard for our living, and therefore we must limit the amount of free work we do because otherwise we’d go bust. Very quickly.

Every week we get at least three calls, asking us to drive 100 miles – petrol costs a lot in the UK – and give a free quote or survey, or tender for a project against a couple of undercutting, talentless, unqualified incompetents …

And so often we hear the weasel words, “We want it done well but we just don’t have the money: can you help?”

Now, we’ve learned when to help, and when not to. Someone might think we’re hard-hearted. I reckon we’re just being professional.

No ticket, no laundry.

Which means – exactly – we do have time to give to you, to help you paint stained glass as best you can. (It’s because we don’t spend time on other things, like driving 100 miles to tender against a couple of undercutting, talentless, unqualified incompetents … – you get the idea?)

But what do you think about this question?

I don’t mean about how to remove the resin (but if you’ve tips or suggestions, please send them in).

I mean about how to judge when to “put yourself out” to help? When is something a lost cause, say because you would get lost if you held out your hand to help? It’s a tough one …

4. Art (maybe)

In another secret place (only for newsletter subsribers), I recently insisted (as I do – I have a big mouth!) that glass painting is a craft, not an art.

And one colleague said they reckoned it was an art.

And I know what they mean.

All the same …

Here’s my first point. If it’s an art, doesn’t that mean we’re  “artists”? But surely that’s for posterity to judge. (Anyway as I always say, I’m just a copier, I’m very happy doing that. Just put a design in front of me to trace and shade – heaven!).

Next point: we’re not comfortable with value-laden words like “artist” because we reckon (and I’d be interested to know your view) such words can tend to be manipulative.

Our own view is that good, honest work speaks for itself and doesn’t need fancy marketing (or piffle and puff). Which is why we call ourselves “designers, painters and restorers of glass”. Yes, we do it to the best of our ability. That’s because the thing about our clients is, they want the best job that can be done – whether it’s art or not is neither here nor there.

In the same way you’d have no time for someone who styled themselves a “master electrician”, we don’t quite see how stained glass painters need to say that what they do is “art”.

But what do you think? How do you see yourself? How do you describe yourself to other people?

Lastly, modern art … conceptualism, post-modernism, artist’s statements which tell people what to think about the think they’re meant to be looking at (but aren’t, because instead they’re reading a piece of self-indulgent waffle) …

If that’s art, we don’t want to be a part of it:

We don’t want to be a drop of pure white milk in a basinful of sewage.

These three points lead us, on balance, to say glass painting is a craft, rather than an art.

But words and ideas are sometimes slippery things. This is certainly something to talk about if it makes us do better work.

So how do you see it?

Best,

P.S. I have seen this with my own eyes: at the “passing out” exhibition of one of London’s better Art Colleges, a prize-winning exhibit – a shirt, on a coat-hanger, with a loosely knotted tie.

Plus – sorry, I almost forgot to mention it – an artist’s statement.

My fourth point therefore is: the young have been corrupted. They have been denied the joys of a four-year (or whatever) apprenticeship – true, on admittedly low (monetary) pay, but with magnificent reward to their soul and character. The cult of immediacy elevates “art” above “craft”.

Which is why I reckon the word “craft” still retains a real sense of devotion and hard work.

C’mon, guys, it’s not just because I’m 52 – I do have a point here!