Melting glass / September 19, 2021 by Sasha Ward

Dalles de verre, stored outside for 50 years and in my garden

I’ve had a pile of thick glass slabs for a while waiting for the right project, something that hasn’t come along yet. They are dalles de verre, used since the mid twentieth century to make windows where chunks of the glass are set in concrete or resin. My slabs are not great, they have weathered badly having been stored outside for decades and most of the colours are so dark, browns and greens mostly, that they look black in daylight. I had a go at firing them down in my big kiln, hoping to end up with thinner, larger pieces full off interesting impurities.

After firing I still didn’t know what to do with them, until I realised that one grey piece was a lovely thing - in shape, surface texture and inner markings. I leaded it up along with some complementary pieces of glass to make a panel (below).

Melted Grey 310 x 280mm, on the lightbox and in the window

Fragments of dalle, on the lightbox and in the kiln before firing

Fragments after firing. Left, top left & bottom right fragments in the kiln. Right, other two pieces fused together.

In the second firing the smaller scraps came out best, and the ones I put on a bed of loose plaster had a texture on the back that looked quite good. You can see the glass before and after firing above, including the two triangular pieces that fused together as they were just close enough on the kiln shelf to reach each other as they melted. These were the next pieces I chose to lead up (below).

Accidentally on Purpose 300 x 410 mm on the lightbox.

The shapes, some leaded and some painted, that surround these melted chunks of glass are placed so that they could join up with a shape on the opposite edge of the panel, giving the idea of a repeating pattern, as above.

Clifton / December 22, 2018 by Sasha Ward

Inside All Saints: The River of Life and The Tree of Life - west windows.

On a trip to Bristol, we visited a church and a cathedral on the same street in Clifton, both with unusual windows from the 1960s and 1970s. The first, All Saints, was bombed in 1940 and a new church designed by Robert Potter, completed in 1967, was built around the remaining elements. All the windows in the church are by John Piper, they are made of fibreglass on to which Piper poured coloured resins. These windows are controversial because of this experimental technique which has not weathered very well. I had seen pictures of the west windows (above right) and although I knew I didn’t like the simplistic design, I also knew I had to see them in situ to make a considered judgement. Actually I found the Tree of Life repellant in real life: the oversized branches with the dots on them look to me like someone shouting and pushing you away.

Inside All Saints, looking east towards the altar.

However, when you turn around you are in for a lovely surprise. The angled walls (above right) behind the altar and the decorated canopy are plain and flanked by two tall subtle windows, there are blue Piper windows in the Lady Chapel to the right as well as numerous narrow windows of coloured dots on a dark ground. All of these, none particularly transparent, make the interior dark, interesting and coordinated. I could see where the windows were deteriorating, with streaks and white patches on the coloured layers, but this sort of adds to the experimental qualities in these works - one of only two churches where Piper used the technique.

Detail of east window and blue windows in the elevated Lady Chapel.

Across the road is Clifton Cathedral, designed by Percy Thomas Partnership and completed in 1973. There are many wonderful things about this building including the hexagonal sanctuary space, the roof shapes, the stations of the cross by William Mitchell and the Lady Chapel candelabra (below right) designed by the architects and made at Prinknash Abbey. All these make for a beautifully coordinated interior.

Inside the Cathedral Church of Ss. Peter and Paul, with stations of the cross by William Mitchell and candelabra.

The stained glass wall is set slightly apart on an angled wall in the narthex and is the work of Henry Haig, another artist whose windows I know quite well. The subject matter is “Pentecost” and “Jubilation”, but I read them as landscapes, one gentle (below left) and one fiery (below right). The experimental technique that he used for these was dalle de verre set in epoxy resin, with chunks of thick, textured glass providing all the colour that the interior needs.

Detail of left hand window and close up of the chunks of glass set in resin.

This was a quick visit that provided an obvious contrast in stained glass techniques: the rich material quality of Haig versus the fluid washes of Piper. My companions weren’t particularly impressed with the Haig windows, and I’m not mad on the random vagueness of the design either. However because they are contemporary with their setting they look completely right for the place and totally solid. The buildings are easy to spot as they both have unusual prominent towers, it’s a great treat to see two interiors that look so “modern” almost fifty years on.

St Richard's Church, Chichester / February 20, 2016 by Sasha Ward

St. Richard's Catholic Church, Chichester, west entrance doors

This church is remarkable for its complete set of dalle de verre windows made in Chartres by Gabriel Loire in 1962. Every window in the church is filled with thick, chipped coloured glass set in concrete and the light inside the church is incredible, we gasped with excitement on entering and were asked to calm down.

Beautiful material quality - for more on the manufacture of the windows go to St. Richard"s Chichester

Rows of high level windows and geometric ceiling decoration. Architects Tomei & Maxwell

I find the appearance of the same windows from inside and outside very interesting. There are some beautiful colour combinations inside - I particularly like the figures in bed in the third window from left (above). There are places where the reds dominate and others where the yellow pieces act as holes for beams of diffused light. The patterns in the composition are what you notice from the outside, the way that the rough cut glass introduces irregularity into a repeat background pattern or row of figures.

The same windows from the outside showing St. Peter leading Apostles: End window with two mysterious negative figures.

There are a few places where the figures are negative - concrete rather than glass. I remember learning how this technique doesn't work in a mosaic because your eyes read the space between coloured fragments as a gap rather than a solid. However it looks great in glass and concrete, showing off the beautiful material quality from inside and out.