What is lampwork?

Glass Lampworking

Glass lampworking is the centuries-old art and craft of melting glass with a single flame and forming the glass into decorated beads and sculptures. During the 17th century, the invention of the oil lamp led to modern-day lampworking. The single flame from the oil lamp allowed the artisans to control the heat of the flame, which helped them melt the glass on a mandrel, "working" the glass into any desired shape. In the book, The History of Lampworking, by Robert A. Mickelsen, you can read:

There is no way to accurately measure the age of lampworking because many of the techniques associated with the working glass at a flame were actually in use for many thousands of years before the first lamp or burner was invented. Depending on how one defines what lampworking is, much of early glass making could be thought of as a kind of lampworking, or perhaps a precursor to lampworking. Rosemary Lierke states in her paper entitled Early History of Lampworking, "if one would extend the definition of lampwork and permit a 'small fire' as heat source instead of a single flame only, almost all ancient glass working could be defined as lampwork."

Today's Glass Lampworking

Today's glass lampworking is usually done with a fuel gas and oxygen torch. I use a propane and oxygen mixture in my torch to form a solid blue jet of flame. I also use professional welding tools, such as a welding mask, welding pliers, and mandrels. I start lampworking by melting the glass to a gooey honey-like consistency onto a thin metal rod called a mandrel. I immediately start turning the mandrel in my left hand, in a sense winding the molten glass around the thin metal rod. When the glass later cools, the mandrel forms the hole in the bead. Constant and steady turning allows me to form an evenly round bead. After I create the bead, I decorate it by melting and working thin strands of glass onto it.

Glass Lampwork Beads

The first book I read on glass lampworking and glass lampwork beads was Making Glass Beads by Cindy Jenkins. When I read the following two paragraphs, I was hooked:

"For THOUSANDS OF YEARS glass beads have fascinated people in cultures all over the world.  The earliest glass beads were reserved exclusively for royalty, and in medieval Europe, the techniques for working with glass were closely guarded within families.  Today the allure of glass beads remains as strong as ever, but the secrecy surrounding their construction is no longer in force. Beads are part of every culture, in all areas of the world.  They've been used to decorate the human body and just about everything else with which we surround ourselves, including crowns, headdresses, clothing, furniture, buildings, bags, boxes, and graves.  In addition to conveying status, beauty, and power to their wearer, beads are considered to be the earliest evidence of mankind's ability to think abstractly."

5:25 AM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Buy the judge a beer!

Cheers to the Honorable Michael A. Cicconetti, a creative benchwarmer I'd love to buy a beer and converse with. I'd like to ask him just what creative sentencing he would impose upon a Texas woman guilty of kidnapping her granddaughter from Arizona and then holding the child against her will. I'd really like to hear the judge's creative approach to THAT injustice!

Nov. 23, 2005  An Ohio woman will spend a night in the woods without water, food or entertainment as part of her punishment for abandoning 35 kittens.  Painesville Municipal Court Judge Michael A. Cicconetti handed down the sentence on Nov. 17 to Michelle M. Murray, 25. On Sept. 19, park rangers found the kittens abandoned in two parks in Mentor, Ohio. Many of the kittens had upper respiratory infections and nine later died. They were traced back to Murray because they were wearing identification collars.

History of Crime-Appropriate Sentences: This isn't Cicconetti's first unusual sentence:  He has ordered a man who hollered "pigs" to police officers to stand on a street corner next to a 350-pound pig with a sign that read, "This is not a police officer." After an 18-year-old man stole some porn from an adult bookstore, the judge ordered him to sit outside the shop in a chair, wearing a blindfold, and holding a sign saying "See No Evil" so that passing traffic could see him.  Cicconetti punished a group of high school students who vandalized school buses by making them throw a picnic for a group of grade-school students whose outing was canceled because of the stunt.  A nanny accused of hitting a little boy with a belt was given a folder of articles on the consequences of child abuse, and compelled to read them all, and then discuss them in the courtroom in front of the judge and the victim's mother, as spectators looked ..ward, the mother agreed to no jail time for the nanny.

Effectiveness of Creative Sentencing: Cicconetti said he can remember just two people who have been sentenced to alternative punishments and reoffended.  One of them was a man who ran from the police and was offered a reduced jail sentence if he agreed to train for a five-mile race. The man stayed in shape, and a few months later, he grabbed a woman's purse and ran with it.

Cicconetti said he began offering creative sentencing when he was getting lots of cases of people speeding in school zones. Eventually he got sick of it, and thought why not force these people to confront the danger they are creating?  He offered violators a choice: Have their license suspended for 90 days, or have it suspended for a shorter period and spend one day working as a crossing guard. He said those violators who spent a day shepherding schools kids across the street never appeared in his courtroom for speeding again, even if they previously had multiple offenses.  Cicconetti eventually expanded his creative sentencing to other crimes, but stressed he offers them rarely and never as punishment for a violent offense.

8:43 AM - 5 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

A letter home, from Balad Air Base, Iraq

(This is a letter from Leah, a very special young woman who is in the Air Force and has gone on many tours to Iraq, working in the hospitals with wounded soldiers. I watched this young woman mature from a 16-year-old girl to a woman who I respect. That I had the joy of playing a part in her life is one of the biggest blessings that I count as being mine. She is one of my heroes. I love you Leah, and I miss you. Kelli remembers you vividly and she loves you. You were the best big sister she could have asked for and I hope one day you know just what a difference you made in her life.)

LEAH'S LETTER HOME FROM IRAQ: I'm not really sure what kind of letter this will end up being, but right now I'm looking for something to keep me occupied. I'm not sure if I can put into words what I'm thinking right now, so it may just be a mass of fragmented thoughts all piled together, so I apologize even before I begin.

There is a weird heavy feeling in the air all throughout the hospital. Its an eerie cloud pregnant with sadness and anger. You can hear the muffled crying of men as you walk down the main hall. That is if you can actually get through its congested passageway. There's a whole unit lined up and down our hallway. Earlier today there was a drive-by bombing, instead of shooting they have just decided to chuck bombs out the window at our guys. This happened right outside our gate. Some soldiers were on the side of the road, I'm not sure what they were doing but standing around their vehicle. One guy wasn't able to keep his legs. The other, well I'm assuming the bomb landed nearest him or something, because it went off right by his head. There was too much shrapnel for our docs to get out. He is, however, not going to die here, which in a way I think is a better way to go. He will be surrounded by his family in Germany. They're flying them out so they can say goodbye before he's let go.

It was quite an ordeal getting him stable enough to go, but thank God he is. I think he almost cleared us out of blood while they were trying to fix him in the OR. This I don't mind though, its what's supposed to happen. Unlike these docs using all our resources to save a bad guy. Sometimes I wonder what they're thinking, taking our blood bank down to zero type O units. Taking all of our plasma and cryo and still asking for more. We asked them what's going to happen if one of our guys comes in right now, as we have nothing to give. Its all in the bad guy. Who, by the way, pretty much had his whole torso blown out. His liver, kidney, gall bladder, colon, you name it, all of it was shot out. When is enough enough? I, however, am not in a position to ask. It all worked out in the end, except for the soldier who is going to Germany to die.

In a way this shows you why you're here, but in the same instant it also shows you why you want to get the hell out and never think of this place again. He's 27. Well, he's almost 27. His birthday is in November, and it's weird the things you think of and remember. I saw his November birthday on one of his lab slips when he was first brought in. I was thinking then that he's going to have a birthday soon and maybe he'll be home for it. Nobody really knew the extent of his injuries yet, so the staff was still hopeful our docs could turn it around and have him pull through.

I wonder about myself sometimes, seeing him laid up on all these machines to keep him alive. Its not that I didn't feel anything, but I guess I'm used to the sight of men looking that way. I didn't cry until I had to pass his Sergeant first class. He was an older looking guy, but that may have just happened since he's been in this country. He had salt and pepper hair and that leathery tan looking skin. I was trying to get past him after handing some results to the doc, and he looked up at me with blood-shot eyes and tears rolling down his face. He said thank you to me. I couldn't say anything but "you're welcome." I suppose that's all that was needed at the time. There are no words for situations like that, but it still felt inadequate, weak and hollow to my own ears. I guess I felt as if I didn't deserve his thanks. I should be thanking him. I don't have to go out every day and deal with being shot at or watch one of my men die. I don't know, it just felt ass backwards.

Why didn't I feel anything when I saw the soldier? I already know why, but still I have to ask myself. Seeing all those people grieving made him real. A man who was part of others' lives. Seeing the gravity of one lost soldier is staggering. Its also good. I'm glad that everyone isn't completely numb to loss. Its kind of how you assume people are like out here, but its not that way in reality. Everything is still felt the same way. In fact, its completely the opposite of numb. Every instance or little thing is felt and experienced 10 times more than it normally would be. Pain and anger is heightened until you can almost taste the bitterness of it. I suppose it could be the adrenaline that makes the experience so vivid and sharp. I know I had plenty flowing through me while I was passing through all those grieving soldiers. I was nervous and scared that I would do something to interrupt their somber vigil for their fallen brother: like trip and make an ass out of myself. It was nerve-wracking, being stared at by all of them. I couldn't help but wonder if they thought I was some intruder, disturbing them while they had only a few precious moments left with him. I was wrong, however, they were gracious and kind. Stumbling over themselves to move for me. Each of them looking up and giving a sheepish smile. I guess the whole hospital environment is eerie and unsettling for them.

I'm moved from one feeling to the next, as if my heart and mind is being controlled by a crazed roller coaster attendant. The ups are way up there, with the lows just as extreme. I do know that I'm proud, honored and humbled to have been part of the collective team that worked for this man. He isn't the first case like this, and I know that sadly he won't be the last. It seems that lately we are going through a lot of these times. This one is more real because we can see the direct affect on personal lives. He lived, worked, slept, ate and did everything else here on this base. He was from here, not choppered in from some remote location.

That's all I have to say for now. I'm done, and I don't want to really process this anymore. Thank you for listening, that's all I really needed. Get it straight in my own mind, so that I may understand it better. I love and miss everyone dearly. I'm thankful I have you in my life. You will never know how much I love and appreciate you. Thank you for being my rock right now. I'm going to end this letter now. I'm tired of looking at it.

11:06 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

20 Rules For Writers
Category: Writing and Poetry

1. Have faith--not cynicism
2. Dare to dream
3. Take your mind off publication
4. Write for joy
5. Get the reader to turn the page
6. Forget politics (let your real politics shine through)
7. Forget intellect
8. Forget ego
9. Be a beginner
10. Accept change
11. Don't think your mind needs altering
12. Don't expect approval for telling the truth - (parents, politicians, colleagues, friends, etc.)
13. Use everything
14. Remember that writing is heroism
15. Let sex (the body, the physical world) in!
16. Forget critics
17. Tell your truth not the world's
18. Remember to be earth-bound
19. Remember to be wild!
20. Write for the child (in yourself and others)
~There are no rules~

1:46 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment