i reiterate: glass is crackit has been a glassblowing-tool-spend-o-rama lately. $50 here, $300 there, $80 here, $150 there, and that’s not even taking into consideration how frickin’ expensive it is to rent a slot in the hot shop for three measly hours. it averages out to about $40 an hour to rent, which is, i must point out, four times more than i make an hour.
but i digress. within the past week or two i’ve purchased blocks, two pipes [which were used, thank goodness], really, really expensive carlo dona tweezers and shears that are made by some guy in murano, italy, and my last purchase was by far the coolest-- four lengths of metal rod from some john-michael cracked-out place wherein i’ll be using a lathe to create my own punties up at [of course] the j-m mega garage [otherwise, i’d be paying hundreds of dollars rather than thirty bills]. wow. talk about a run-on sentence; that’s enough to make any grade school grammar teacher cry.
why am i spending all of my tiny paychecks on pricey tools? because glass is crack. i’m certain of it. for example: i get ticks pretty often [they're some kind of neurological explosion of muscle spasms] and whenever i blow, i very rarely tick. it’s great. whenever i’m blowing, i think of nothing else except blowing. my friend sara is always trying to convince me to go to the zen center with her and meditate and/or take yoga classes. the thing is, i do meditate. ...in front of the glory hole [it’s where i reheat the glass so i can continue shaping it]. i can focus on nothing other than that screaming hot moving blob on the end of my pipe. the world fades outside of me and the glass. it’s amazing.
i’m consciously trading in a comfortable life as a geographic information systems analyst for a life being a poor struggling [but happy] artist. i can’t help it, i need my crack.
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