Rachel Mauser, We Will Find the Sea, cut paper, modified coptic binding, pewter, walnut
Once upon a time there was an artist named Rachel. She grew up going to camp during the summers, where she learned to sail, kayak and canoe. No boat was unknown to her. Young Rachel carried the image of boats with her into adult life.
Last summer, Adult Rachel found herself in a one-week pewtersmithing class as part of her core fellowship at Penland. Pewter? she thought. The instructors were two of the most well-known pewtersmiths in the land. Rachel had no experience with pewter–or much metal experience at all, for that matter. She was uncertain. Her uncertainty reminds this writer of a line from another story: “It was dark in the woods and she had to be brave.”
Others in the class were metalsmiths. They were well on their way toward making pewter cups. Candlestick holders. Salt shakers. Rachel closed her eyes. It was then that she saw it: a pewter rowboat floating in a book. She worked all week on the boat, its two tiny oars.
Later, back in the familiar kingdom of paper, Rachel made a book for the boat. The boat in the book: what Rachel made reminds this writer of magical books, childhood, the great big endless sea.
The moral of this story is a quotation from the artist herself: “Our ideas are not limited by the materials we know.”
Glass artist Amy Rueffert will be at Penland for the first time this spring to teach an eight-week workshop. We corresponded briefly about food, glass, and the movies.
Amy Rueffert, Apple (Patchwork Variety), blown and fused glass, decals, found glass
Thinking about the food metaphor for your workshop, do you feel like there’s a connection between culinary presentation and the presentation of Victorian curios that attracts you as an artist?
Yes! I love the food metaphor because it pertains to this class in so many ways. I think the most relevant connection is through the idea of the smorgasbord, and that moment when you realize there are all these beautifully presented options for you to choose from. You can fill your plate with a little bit of this, and a little bit of that, and go back for more of your favorites. That’s what we’ll be doing in this workshop, filling our plates with different techniques to make sculptural glass.
I’m really looking forward to students digging deep within their inspirations and connecting to their sources through research, class dialogue and exploring the material. Teaching is a great source of inspiration for me, so I’m looking forward to spending eight weeks getting to know everyone and making great things along the way.
Amy Rueffert at work (photo courtesy of the artist)
Amy Rueffert – Glass Smorgasbord March 9-May 2, 2014
Hungry? This workshop will be a smorgasbord of traditional and alternative glass techniques beginning with blowing, cutting, grinding, gluing, smashing, building, and fusing. Through experimentation, exploration, and teamwork mixed with practice, patience, and hard work, we’ll find personal connections to the visual and physical properties of glass as we realize our ideas. The balance of skill and concept will be a theme throughout, with demonstration and discussions of my process and those of visiting artists. In the words of Auntie Mame, “Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death.” Let’s eat! All levels, but some hot glass experience will be helpful.
To find out more and register for this workshop click here. Spring scholarship deadline is November 29.
Please note: applications need to be at Penland by this date to be considered for scholarship. Overnight service may not deliver to Penland’s campus on time, please plan accordingly.
Just curious: is Auntie Mame one of your favorite movies?
I’ve loved the movie Auntie Mame since I was a little girl! I can remember flipping through the channels on a Saturday afternoon and seeing bits and pieces of this movie over and over again and being so intrigued by the aesthetics of the film, and of course, Rosalind Russell. It took me a while to figure out the name of the movie, and finally I did, and it’s been a favorite ever since.
I’m still searching for a specific Barbra Streisand movie that had a similar effect. The scene I can remember goes like this: Barbra is in a city apartment, sitting in a bed. She’s dressed in floral printed pajamas that match the bed sheets that match the fabric-upholstered headboard. It is like she’s lost in a field of floral fabric and it’s amazing. Any ideas?
Amy Rueffert has taught at The Studio at Corning, Pilchuck, The Glass Lab at MIT, Haystack, and San Jose State University. Her work is included in collections of the Corning Museum, Tacoma Museum of Glass and Glasmuseet Ebeltoft. She currently lectures in the School of Art and Design at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign.
What’s your philosophy of teaching?
Unprintable but I’ll tell you. I didn’t plan any of this. I joined the military, got out of the war and couldn’t get a job. I went to college on the G.I. Bill. I kind of think that I was born to be a teacher; I can’t explain it more than that.
I’ve always liked teachers. Particularly in art and craft, everybody’s going to be a teacher because we’re dinosaurs–it’s not all in the books, it’s not all written down, and you won’t see every lecture. So we need to share knowledge. The internet is full of information but not necessarily knowledge. So I got into teaching–I’ve been teaching now since 1973.
How long have you been teaching at Penland?
I’ve taught three concentrations, two summer classes, three guest artist [visits], and I did an instructor retreat. I would have done the first instructor retreat but I was in intensive care so I couldn’t come. Which pissed me off–I really wanted to go (give me a bunch of Demerol!) I’d like to do another sixty-seven years; I’ve had a great time.
Each group I teach tends to be a little different. They tend to bond together. The tighter they are the better it runs. Building what we call in the military “unit effing integrity:” if they’re good enough to die with they’re good enough to eat, drink and sleep with. Well here, take out the ‘dying’ part: if they’re good enough to make art with then it should become a community. You can be as individual as you want at Penland and people will respect your privacy. But you work better when you’re together. I learn more from them too.
This group is very hard working–all of them, in all the areas. I tend to trek around and see what they’re up to. And this is grueling: they’re trying to pack about a year’s work into two months.
Which reminds me. I saw a note on the chalkboard in the iron studio: DON’T BURN UP.
Yeah, or out! [My students] have been ’embellishing,’ let us say, up there. I encourage them to do that. My favorite one up there is ‘The more you complain the longer God makes you live.’ Favorite Jewish proverb. I love that one. No drama, no sniveling, no whining. And talk to me when you’ve got a problem, if you can.
Does that feel critical to your experience as a teacher here, knowing people more personally?
I think so, as much as you can know someone in a couple of months. But it’s intense. It’s not for the weak of spirit, heart, mind, body.
Fair enough.
The energy is here is infectious. I’m running on a twenty-two year old’s energy and the minute I drive down the hill it’s all just going to go away. That’s the not so salutary effect of adrenaline wearing off when you leave Neverland.
This a a singular place. I really wish that the rest of the world ran like this. The greatest thing about Penland besides the food, the art, the people, the place is that nobody cares up here; it all comes down to what Dr. King says: ‘it’s the content of your character.’ Everything else is just like wearing a different shirt–nobody gives a rat’s ass. And I really like that.–Elaine Bleakney
Jay Burnham-Kidwell currently teaches the concentration Smokin’ Hot Iron at Penland. He is professor emeritus from Mohave Community College in Arizona. His work is held in collections at the National Ornamental Metal Museum in Tennessee, the University of Georgia, and West Dean College in the United Kingdom.
