Studio Time [RP for Pippa]
Zippy stood before a non-descript door set into the brick face of a building, head craned back to look up at the numbers above the door. With reluctance, for the sake of the brisk wind whipping along the street, Zipp pulled her hands from her pockets to check the slip of paper on which she had written Pippa Kerr's studio address. The numbers
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As she spoke, Pippa idly played with a steel jack, turning the menacing looking took around in a ceaseless motion as it stayed in the notched rack attached to her bench. "Once the melt is hot enough, you make a gather on the end of a pontil." Another gesture, to a row of long, metal rods hanging on the wall beside the furnaces.
Her voice softened, becoming almost wistful as she described the process. The palms of her hands itched to pick up one of the pontils and demonstrate the skill. Instead, she pulled the sleeve of her shirt over her left hand and made a malformed fist. Why had she agreed to this?
"The pontils are hollow. You can blow into them to create an air bubble in the hot glass."
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The younger woman's desire to do the work she was discussing was obvious, in the flickers of her eyes towards the tools, in the longing in her tone. Zippy noted it, and noted also the gesture that hid Pippa's hand from view-- but she'd already registered the visual offness of that hand, confirmed there was one less finger than there should be with a glance, and then carefully not looked at it since.
She nodded when Pippa paused, to show she had followed the explanation, and then said, "So I take it that's where the 'blowing' part comes in, then-- what you see on TV or movies or whatever, the actual blowing to make the shapes. But how do you get the control for the more, I dunno, complex shapes?"
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Her head tilted as she really considered what Zippy wanted to know. How do you create glass art as opposed to a drinking glass or a window pane. To Pippa it felt almost as if she was being asked to explain how to breathe. It wasn't a conscious effort, it simply was. She just did it.
"I go back to the glory hole, the furnace there, the one with the door closed. When I'm working, it's open and I either use it to add another layer of glass or I use it to reheat what I am already working. Sometimes, with smaller pieces, I'll use one of the blow torches anchored to a table. You build in layers, sections. Combine them."
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"Control. Yeah, I bet so-- timing everything just right..." She ran her fingers along the scooped hole in the block, imagining semi-molten glass pressed into the depression then swiftly reshaped into something else.
She cannot help but think of magic, of forming power into usable shapes. There's fire in that, to be certain. Not physical, but real nonetheless, and the art of controlling it to one's own ends cannot, perhaps, be explained.
And so for glass, she supposes, and lets her fingers drift off the block. "I bet you've gotta be pretty buff in terms of upper body strength, nu? All the constant handling of all these tools, and keeping it going until a piece is done?"
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The block found its way back into her empty water bucket and Pippa sighed. Standing, she moved to join Zippy at the steel table, sliding the palm of her right hand over the cool, clean surface. "This is were I do the marvering. Adding color to the glass by rolling it back and forth over the table top. It's usually covered in chemical powders. You can use the table surface to shape things too, but mostly I use it to cool the glass quickly. Steel absorbs the heat, leaches it away but not fast enough to fracture the glass. Usually."
Pippa was caressing the table much the same way she would a lover, with care and compassion. There was an unguarded air about her posture and the tilt of her head, she was comfortable here in ways she really wasn't in most places. "It's not as complicated as it seems."
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She crossed her arms again, leaning one hip against the table as she regarded Pippa, watching her touch the table, listening to her discuss the tricks of the trade.
"You must miss it very much," she said gently.
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Zippy's last comment had Pippa turning abruptly, regarding the older woman with wide, startled eyes. "I..."
She looked away again, cleared her throat. "It's not fair."
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When Pippa's head jerked her direction, Zippy just stood there, perhaps spreading her hands a little at her side as if to say, wordlessly, can you deny it? But the younger woman didn't, just looked away again.
Zippy nodded slowly at her words, and ran her fingers over the counter again, imagining she was picking up fine invisible dust of disuse. "No. It isn't. Life takes stuff from us through no fault of our own, and-- mmm." She spread her hands again in the small shrug.
"I'm sorry. If you don't want to talk about it, I'd understand that."
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"I can't really discuss it, I'm sorry." She gave the table a hard smack, skin slapping steel and stinging her palm, but it wasn't an angry gesture, only a final one. Pippa gave Zippy a smile. "So, what else do you want to know about glass blowing? Or glass making? I do some lampwork too...like the piece I gave you."
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And of course, she had no guarantee that Pippa was indeed the young woman under discussion, so... no reason to push things.
She returned Pippa's smile as they moved back to safer topics of discussion. "Let's see. Ever burn yourself? That's probably a stupid question... alright, what's your favorite part of the process? And how long does it take you, to go from... unshapen chunk of glass to the pretty things I get to wear?"
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But Zippy's asking things she could answer. "I've burned myself quite a few times. Unavoidable really, though the scar on my leg is from sheer stupidity on my part. I dropped a hot weight on my lap when I was first learning in Venice."
As she walked around the table and crossed tot he far side of the studio, Pippa gave another large metal box an affectionate pat. The thing looked similar to the furnaces, only smaller and with less ventilation. "The annealing oven. It's the last step in creating a piece. Placing it in here to cool it, bring it back down to room temperature. If you've done a good job, the piece survives without fracturing or shattering. Either of those things happen and you may as well throw it back into the melt."
Or the floor. Which she has been known to do in a fit of anger and dissatisfaction. "I like being able to open the door and find that I've pulled it off again. You don't get to feel any sort of accomplishment until then."
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"Mmmm, I can see how that'd be the best part. Time to see whether all the work's paid off or not..."
She poked at the inert metal box with one thoughtful fingertip. "So what's the glass like when you get it? I mean, I'm assuming you don't melt the sand yourself-- but I could be wrong, it happens every now and again, on special occasions, like blue moons and when Halley's comet goes by-- so you get the glass in blocks, or what?"
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She pointed at her lampworking set up. "Why don't you have a seat at the table, you don't have to do so much standing." Pippa had noticed Zippy's slight limp but she wasn't going to add insult to the injury by actually mentioning it. Besides, the lampworking materials would give Zippy part of her answer.
There were long glass cylinders of various colors and color-combinations stored in coffee mugs and stacking wire baskets all lined along the top of the work table. "When I'm bead making, I tend to work from bought glass, reheating and melting them with the small torch. A lot of my jewelery making is done this way. I do hand fire some of my own things though, like the bracelet Rory and I made for Cait's birthday...or your pendant."
For her part, Pippa chose to lean against the edge of the table, playing with a spool of thin wire she used for threading beads. "But for the large pieces? The vases, plates and even the bathroom sink I made for myself...that does actually start out as silica--sand. Depending on what I am doing and how malleable I want the glass to be, I add other things like lime or alumina or even zinc oxide."
All of these things she keeps stored and locked away in various cabinetry. It wouldn't do to have spills and accidents with some of the compounds she keeps on the premises. Pippa shrugged and smiled again. "I told you chemistry was heavily involved. I've even made use of lithium and cyanide at times. I'm a bit of a mad scientist and less of an artist, I think."
She went on to explain why she has three furnaces in the small studio and for only a solo gaffer. The first being the crucible where the flux is initially heated and melted, which she has currently left dormant, the second is called the glory hole and used for reheating during the working process, the one she has lit for warmth, and the last being the annealing oven that she has already discussed at length.
Pippa continues on, talking about thermal stress and just why a piece with even subtle fracturing is always discarded (at least in her studio), "It's a safety measure. I'd hate for someone to pick up a platter and have it shatter on them. Odds are it wouldn't, but it can. Glass is very temperature sensitive. It will expand and contract. Hmm..." She searched a moment for a good example of this. "It's like when a pebble hits your car windshield and dings it. Come winter the cold will start it cracking, the heat of the summer may cause the small crack to spider out and completely obscure visibility. The same thing is going on with anything else made of glass, tempered or not. If the form isn't solid and stable, you're really playing a waiting game of when and how it's going to lose integrity."
She stopped then, blushed a bit as she realized how she'd effectively slipped into a lecture. "I'm sorry. I'll talk someone's ear off about glass if they let me."
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When Pippa eventually came to a slightly-embarrassed stop, Zippy merely smiled. "It's fascinating. And believe me, I don't just say that to be polite-- I really do enjoy learning new things. The moreso when someone's passionate about their topic.
"And, serendipity being what it is, later this week I'll probably have a question from someone needing to know the fine points of how sand gets turned into glass, and now I'll have a starting point from which to work. See? Works out for everyone, a sheynem dank," she said, lightly slapping the top of the worktable with one hand in an unconscious imitation of Pippa's earlier gesture.
"So, okay, you do make the glass straight from the sand-- silica, I mean silica-- so how long are talking, from sand to the-pretty-thing-I-get-to-wear? In terms of work hours?"
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She was an artist after all, and a finicky one at that. Perfectionist. "Jewelry, well...things like a bracelet or a pendant can be done in an afternoon and will anneal in a matter of hours. If I actually need to put it in a setting or string the beads together...sometimes it takes me longer than it should because I get distracted. Other times, I'll forget that I need to stop and eat or sleep."
Pippa gave Zippy a sheepish grin. "That wasn't very helpful, was it?"
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She straightened a little, lacing her fingers together on the table as she looked around the studio, taking in Pippa's place of creation. "Me, I like concrete answers. But that, again, is the reference librarian in me."
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