As part of Washington Glass School’s 25th anniversary series, we invited artists, instructors, and longtime members of the WGS community to reflect on their experiences with the school and the role glass has played in their lives and work.
Artist April Shelford first encountered Washington Glass School through a Glass Lover’s Weekend workshop and later became a studio artist known for her fused glass work exploring color, rhythm, and pattern bar techniques. Before retiring from American University as Associate Professor of History, Shelford built an acclaimed academic career as an intellectual historian of early modern Europe and the Caribbean, earning national recognition for her scholarship and publications.
In the reflections below, Shelford writes about discovering glass later in life, the meditative qualities of studio practice, and the creative community that has sustained her through changing times.
I don’t remember how I heard about Glass Lover’s Weekend, but I was casting about for things that my husband and I could do together. This was maybe a dozen years ago, and the whole weekend was obviously great. But what really struck me was when Tim Tate gave us a tour of the studio and introduced the class to one of the studio artists. She was making these beautiful baptismal fonts, and she looked right at me and said, “Glass Lover’s Weekend was how I started.”
Statements like that accumulate meaning in hindsight, of course—contingencies from which we construct just-so stories, so be warned about what you’re reading.
Yes, both my parents were creative types, opening up worlds of possibilities for me: literary, musical, visual. But honestly, I never imagined that I’d end up devoting so much time to working with, exhibiting, and teaching fused glass after essentially two careers: one arc spanning my 20s into my early 30s in production and printing, graphic design and advertising; the other, three decades and counting as an academic historian.
That said, there were aspects of my family background and that first arc that inclined me to like fused glass. Working in printing, I came to appreciate what you can do with noisy machines. This made the semi-industrial processes—the chopsaw, the grinder, the sandblaster—appealing. Slicing up a pattern bar on the chopsaw, shaping pieces on the grinder—these things can get pretty tedious, but can also be very meditative.
I developed some skill and took real pleasure in graphic design, producing attractive and (I’m proud to say) readable, if not terribly original work. And my mother’s lessons in knitting, crochet, sewing, and embroidery—not to mention meticulous work as a fabric artist—made me value craft: learning about the materials you’re using, practice-practice-practice, and avoiding “good enough.”
Miscellaneous remarks, curiosity, and serendipity shaped my practice more than intentions once I’d become interested enough to take more courses and work more independently in WGS’s open studio. Years ago, for instance, Tim remarked that I have a good color sense. What’s color, but light reflected and transmitted? What does glass do but transmit and reflect color and light?
Free-form pattern bars struck me as a technique especially well-suited to experimenting with color and design, variety and rhythm. But whether working with pattern bar or other techniques, I wouldn’t have made much worth looking at if I hadn’t learned to set aside accidents and failures long enough to make the best of them.
There are ways to exert some control over a piece’s final appearance, but humility’s necessary because the results when the kiln’s opened are unpredictable given how glass flows. Some of those surprises are delightful; some, not so much. My best work happens when I’m co-creating with the glass, respecting rather than futilely attempting to dominate it.
The secret sauce to my making (hopefully) good work is having more experienced folks around who are generous with good advice. First, there’s Michael, Tim, and Erwin. Despite their stature as real artists (unlike me!), I got the vibe early on that if I’m serious, they’ll take my questions seriously.
Then there are the other studio artists engaged in very different projects utilizing very different techniques whom I can always ask, “Does this work?” “What do you think?” “How did you manage that?”
So what’s WGS at 25 for me?
A creative community anchored by Tim, Michael, Erwin, the indispensable studio coordinator Arden Colley, other stalwarts like me, and folks who rotate in, out, and sometimes in again.
WGS kept me sane during the pandemic; it does the same now amidst our calamitous political culture and challenges like AI. Communities are complicated because people are. But occasional crankiness or tension aside, we cherish each other because we ultimately care about the same things:
Make beauty.
Make joy.
Make truth.
Check out April Shelford’s IG page http://www.instagram.com/aprilglassshelford/!