Imagine someone gives you eight 10×10-inch sheets of 3mm fusible glass and four bottles of glass enamel paint in the above colors and says, “Make something with this stuff. Let us know how you get on.”
What would you do?
I guess we’ll find out, ’cause Bullseye just did that with me.
Note: This post was originally published on January 20, 2011. Since then, some of these offerings have changed, and more murrini makers are offering kilnformer supplies, so I thought this needed an update.
I’ve been exploring all the different ways to make murrini cane in a kiln, and having a lot of fun with it. Check out some of these (amazingly long-winded) posts for step-by-step instructions:
Murrini cane in a kiln: Sandwiches, Part I
Murrini cane in a kiln: Jellyrolls
Murrini cane in a kiln: The rod pod
Kinda like peanuts
But I gotta tell you, it’s a lot of work and it’s not cheap. So what do you do if you want good-looking, kiln-fusing murrini that you don’t have to make yourself?
life, food, stuff like that
“At bird shows, you look up,” he said, pointing up to rafters filled with imaginary avian escapees.
“At dog shows? You look DOWN!” And everyone chuckled.
I didn’t get the joke until later, when I narrowly avoided a fresh canine surprise–eeeuw!–while trying to retain my dignity by not saying stuff like “uzzums wuzzums GOOD BOY, uzzums wuzzums DOGGIE?” to every furry face I saw.
Mom and I were at the Rose City Classic Dog Show, drowning in dogfur. It’s a kind of three-ring circus of dog shows, one of the bigger in the western US, with a craft fair, a bunch of different dog breeder shows, and heaven knows what else going on for blocks and blocks and blocks.
My friend Carol will tell you I am NOT a cook, and she’s right. Cooks invent new ways to turn daily caloric input into stuff I only dream about (unless Carol invites me over for dinner, because Carol is a cook).
Me, I’m a food geek. I could care less about daily meals, but give me a challenge, or slip some fascinating cookery science my way, and I’m on it. And, usually, a new recipe is the result. This time: Salted hazelnut toffee with chocolate, which is pretty daggone tasty if I do say so myself.
"Your burglar alarm company just called; your house is on fire," Mom said on my mobile phone...just as my flight was boarding. Sigh. It's been a busy week, and it's only Monday. Been doing my usual 72 things at once: Houseful of guests (the incredible glass artist and lovely person Carol Carson, with her equally lovely sister and daughter). My sister's in town from DC, staying with my folks. My plane lands back in Glassland four hours before the party I'm throwing for Carol on Wednesday (y'all come!). I'm getting ready for a sculpture show this weekend. The antmind decided that BigBoy, my ginormous old Dell desktop, was a perfect place to raise the kids. You know, I think there's a god of adventure sitting in an office somewhere, and everytime he gets bored he types my name, hits the send button...and here we go again.
What do the above pieces have in common? They still live with me.
I’ve never really thought of myself as sentimentalist. Sure, I sometimes sob at tearjerker chickflicks or cracking good animation or sublimely elegant algorithms or wonderful UX or hardware that really IS “plug and play” or somebody just being nice for no good reason or incredible art. And maybe I succumb to leaky optics over certain scents or songs or baby animals but…