Reflected Glory: Glassmaker Robert Phillips
By Eleni Collins - August 23, 2007
You can knit a blanket, roll out a clay plate, or paint on a canvas, even if you are an artistic novice. But not so the glassblower. Working with glass is not something you can successfully master the first time around.
"You make glass the way you make and do anything else - like writing," says glass artist Robert Phillips. "It's according to who you are."
Robert Phillips and Mark Weiner team up to complete a work. Photos by Alan Brigish
The Saratoga, New York, native began working part-time for Mark Weiner, co-owner with Andrew Magdanz of Martha's Vineyard Glassworks on State Road in West Tisbury, when he was in his early 20s.
"I didn't think much of it in beginning. Thirteen years later, this is me," says Phillips, during a break from making encalmo (multi-colored) platters.
In 1996, after meeting Swedish artists at a glass conference in the States, Phillips moved to Sweden for a year. "It changed my work."
Sweden is famous for using crystal instead of glass, and he prefers crystal for its shininess. "The Swedish use less color on lead-free crystal," he explains. "It's shinier, but with a different shine [than glass] - so clean, it's almost a shame to cover it."
When he does add color, whether the piece is decorative or functional, it is vibrant. His glass fish, in both transparent and matte designs, are deep purple, lime green, and bright blue.
The first process begins in the hot shop in two furnaces called "glory holes," that reach 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Propane and forced air fuel the furnaces.
The artists first use a "blow pipe" to collect the amount of glass they need from the furnace. They continue to blow through the long, metal pole until the bubble, used to create the shape is adjusted. Then they switch to the "punty," a long, metal pole similar to the blowpipe. On the punty, they continue to shape the piece with water, newspaper, and other tools.
The glass artist giving serious assessment to a finished piece.
Phillips compares the different states of glass to ice and water, with a different temperature scale. Glass is in its liquid form at 2,000 F. Room temperature gradually brings glass to its freezing state. And once the piece is fully cooled , the glass maker can render it to his liking.
Although certain pieces belong to specific artists, the process in the hot shop is done in a team. In the studio the day Mark's encalmo platters were being made, Weiner, Phillips, and gallery artist Michiko Maekawa were all busy making the one platter.
According to Glassworks gallery manager Libby Johnson: "It's like a dance. You have your job you're responsible for, and you have to be ready when it's your turn."
To begin the cooling process, the piece is knocked off the "punty," creating a mark on the bottom of the piece that artists grind off. When the pieces are cooled, they are moved to the cold shop. There, Phillips will spend another week, on average, using a grinder to create the desired shape.
In a separate building behind the gallery, the cold shop, divided into two rooms, contains shelves of unfinished pieces as well as grinding wheels where shapes and patterns are created.
Diamond-grinding wheels are used to form the shapes, then pumice, and lastly, cerium, a fine powder, are used to get the glossiest shine out of the glass. To achieve a matte look, Phillips uses a sandblaster, and then oils the glass for a smooth texture.
One piece on display in the cold shop is Phillips's "cyke," which stands for cyclops. It is a decorative spherical piece which opens like an eye on the top, like a vase. Its exterior is decorated in brilliantly colored circles. In accordance with the Swedish technique, the cyke, along with many of Phillips's other pieces, is made thick, giving it significant weight for a sturdy, decorative piece of glass art. When looking through its open top to the multi-colored circles on the surface, one sees a stunning and rather mystical reflection.
"A lot of my designs are patterns," says Phillips. "I was never good at drawing, so I like the patterns. And glass is reflective, so it's nice," he adds. "It's the nature of the material. You work with what you get, and sometimes it's better than others."
Most of the time the process goes smoothly, but Phillips admits, "There's always a little trouble. In general, there's no one point worse than another. There are things that work and don't work, and there are always mistakes. Every now and then you're thinking you should have done something different to a piece, but it's not to the point of being negative."
When asked what specific skills a glassblower needs, Phillips laughs, then answers, "Patience. You need patience. It takes work, and practice, but practice isn't exactly a skill."
Eleni Collins is an editorial assistant at the MV Times.
