Glas Horse
Crisoforo Schuhmacher
Here is "Sparrow" watching over us, as she sits on a table behind our couch...I love how the light filters in, and how these works are sculptural as well as painterly in nature. They can be viewed from both sides (each side is different...), and I am enjoying being able to see through each of my "Glass Horses" works into adjacent spaces. As the light of day continues to change, so does the painting itself.
I have also been working for the past several weeks on a donation piece for Angel Horses, Inc., and their upcoming fundraising event to be held at White Aspen Ranch in Billings, Montana, on September 10th, 2016. I have completed painting a life-sized fiberglass horse, which will be auctioned off during a live auction that evening, along with other horses painted by Kevin Red Star, Kira Fercho, and a collaborative effort by Lance Johnson and Dawn Ness. I am delighted to be able to participate in this effort to raise funds that will benefit this extraordinary organization, that is instrumental in helping so many.
As I said, once the clear-coat is added, I will post a better photo of the finished "Paint Horse Spirit"....If you are interested in learning how to place a bid on this life-sized fiberglass horse on the September 10th auction date, please contact Angel Horses, Inc.. They will be accepting phone bids on all of the horses to be auctioned off....
With a wide selection to choose from, you can proudly display one of these unique pieces in your living room or hallway, impressing everyone with your breathtaking style. Each sculpture comes with a certificate of authenticity, ensuring its originality and quality.
These sculptures make an exclusive gift, perfect for any occasion. We can even include a personalized message with your gift. Plus, we offer fast delivery times. For more details, please contact us. Add a touch of originality to your decor with these Made in Italy treasures. Explore our Murano glass horse sculptures today.
he glass horse stood on its hind legs as if in mid-gallop. Blue and green glass swirled through its sleek figure. It looked incongruous near the pink china doll on my shelf, but I convinced myself that it was temporary. Soon I would present it to my sister, Naomi, who would surely treasure this gift.
The summer following my high school graduation, I signed up for The European Tour with some friends. It was an emotional and inspiring trip, davening at kivrei tzaddikim and visiting the many Holocaust memorials that dot the bloodstained lands of Europe.
Our itinerary was spiritually intense, but it was also peppered with trips to exciting and exotic places in Europe. During the last week of our tour, we spent a night in the Austrian Alps and then traveled on to Venice, Italy.
Our ferry docked at the island of Murano, famed for its artisan glass. I set out to explore the shops on my own and discovered ornate chandeliers, goblets and glass bowls swirling with color, a miniature glass orchestra, and even tiny glass grasshoppers. Their luminescent colors and intricate designs enchanted me.
I met the others for our scheduled tour of the glass foundry. Inside a large dimly lit room, we watched as the glass smith dipped a metal pipe into a liquid glass mixture. Gently, he blew through the pipe and as the glass cooled, he deftly shaped it. Somehow, as if by magic, he created a galloping horse.
This would be the perfect gift for Naomi, I immediately thought. My sister is an avid reader, and during one phase, she got hooked on horse novels. She read every book she could find on the subject, while weaving dreams of owning her very own stallion. I knew she would love this galloping glass figurine, and I resolved to keep it safe for her. I carefully wrapped it up again, lest it break on the trip back home.
I followed Naomi loyally, aspiring to be like her. I sang the songs she learned in school, played alongside her and her friends, and shadowed her faithfully. I felt incomplete without her. I trusted her implicitly. In my eyes, she could do no wrong.
I watched Naomi grow, going through the phases of her teenage years. I watched her build her circle of friends, heard her talking on the phone late into the night, and slowly I saw her move farther and farther away from me.
Still, I remained in the wings, waiting for her to be with me again. Stubbornly I waited for her to turn around and see me. Soon, soon, we would ride our bikes together again, I consoled myself. Soon, she would notice me and play a game of Monopoly with me.
But Naomi never called. She never wrote. The hope in my heart slowly gave way to the pain of her abandonment and anger for the destruction she had wrought in our home. Did she realize? Did she even care? Doubt seeped into my thoughts: Had she ever truly loved me? Or had I been a nuisance she had always wanted to be rid of? How could she have discarded me so carelessly?
The glass horse must have lost patience, too, because one day it fell and cracked. When I found it, it was lying on its side, a thin glass leg broken off. I propped it up on some other knickknack on the shelf, while propping up the dream in me. A dream that seemed to be slowly cracking.
Even amid the hectic wedding preparations, I thought of Naomi often. I desperately wanted to dance with her at my wedding. I dreamed of reconnecting, of bridging the gap between us, of somehow reuniting our broken family.
I did some investigating and found her mailing address. On the back of my wedding invitation, I wrote a little note for her, and sealed the envelope with a prayer. I dropped it in the mailbox, knowing I was going against my parents, and yet how could I get married without my sister? How could I not dance with her on that night?
There was a flurry of activity as my wedding day approached, and one day I received a call that my new apartment was ready. It was time to move on. I sat on the carpet of my childhood room, surrounded by boxes of clothing and books. I lovingly packed up my collections and mementos to take with me. Photos from school and camp, paintings, and other pieces of artwork I had created over the years. My eyes roamed across the room, landing on the cracked horse.
I reached for the glass figurine. I rubbed my fingers along its sleek body, while the old hope of a loving reunion ripped through me. The sharp edge of the broken leg scratched my thumb. I stared at the blood slowly seeping out of the tiny cut in my finger. Biting my lip, I forbid the pain to hurt me. The figurine was cracked. No use in keeping this legless horse any longer. I tossed it into the trash can.
Naomi did not come to my wedding. It was a bittersweet celebration, my heart chipped where love had once been. I begged Hashem to comfort me. My sister was alive, but I could not continue mourning her as if she were dead. I needed to move on. So I tried to forget the sister I had. I relegated her to the past, together with the glass horse I had intended for her.
I was married with two children when I received a call from Naomi. I was startled to hear her familiar voice on the other end of the line. She softly asked me if we could reconnect. She was different now. She wanted to make amends for the past. I was too stunned to reply. When I finally found my voice, I told her that I needed time.
More conversations followed, some short, some light, but each a small milestone of connection. During one phone call, Naomi related to me that she was taking horseback riding lessons. I remembered the younger Naomi avidly reading horse novels and spinning tales of winning the Derby. I was so happy for her. At last, she was achieving her childhood dream.
As she spoke about her lesson and how she had fallen off the horse, I suddenly recalled another horse. A blue-green glass horse with a broken leg. The figurine I had longed to give her throughout that long period of separation.
When walking the shore of Dead Horse Bay, you soon hear the clinking of glass bottles as the Atlantic Ocean laps against the sand. On the beach, there is glass of all varieties, from amber bleach jugs, to delicate and clear perfume containers, to green soda bottles and blue medical jars. Perhaps nowhere else in the city is the connection of glass to our daily lives so evident, as in this litter of lives lived decades ago.
In a city so dense, so developed, there remain overlooked outskirts, unpleasant and ignored, yet with the power to tell so much about history and our individual impacts on the world. Now our trash is mostly whisked away from the city, seemingly vanishing; here is evidence that it does not disappear. As an exhibition theme, Dead Horse Bay offers a chance to examine the reuse of glass, the legacy of glassware in consumer goods, and how the sonic and tactile experience with its glass, in all its ocean-washed colors, can be an unexpected muse.
UrbanGlass is a leading resource for both aspiring and established artists wishing to create with glass. We foster innovative art and advance the use and appreciation of glass as a creative medium. UrbanGlass is a 501(c)3 organization and welcomes your tax-deductible donations.
It was quite an exhausting trip but we managed to cram loads in, including a trip to the beautiful Gower peninsular in Wales, where on a tiny patch of shale I found a bumper crop of sea glass. This was my haul after only a minute or so!
You asked for it & we listened! Celebrate the beer that has been around since 1933 in this pint glass. Each glass has a nucleated G-stalk etched into the bottom to improve carbonation and head retention in your beer.
Interacting with light and the background, my horse paintings change every moment, every day. Especially if you hang one in a window. Get living art!
I use a traditional technique, stained glass painting (grisaille). Enamels are fused on glass at 1225 F for the paintings to last centuries.
The Seahorse and Shell Dish works great for holding a bar of soap on the bathroom vanity, or holding change or jewelry on a bedroom dresser. The finished piece is very good looking especially considering how easy the mold is to fill and fire. The finished pieces are 5.5 x 7.75 inches (14 x 20 cm). For extra clarity, consider using casting rocks, mosaic mesh frit, or billet chunks.
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