Sculptural
by Brian Bowden
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i, my name is Brian, and I’m a Marble Collector. (In unison) “Hi, Brian!” Oh wait—this isn’t an MA (Marbleholics Anonymous) meeting? Maybe it should be. I’ve found over the past five-plus years that many marble collectors can tend to get very addicted to the acquisition of marbles for some reason. When asked why this is, none of us really seems to know for sure, other than to point out that perfectly round, smooth glass spheres are just so beautiful and enchanting! For us, there’s simply an incredible attraction that we can’t quite explain. It’s just there once we discover them. I’ve learned that it’s the same for many artists as far as the creation of marbles goes. Maybe it is simply the laws of physics, which seem to favor the creation of perfect spheres in nature. Gravity and such forces are wonderful things, aren’t they, especially when they are used by glass artists to create more marbles! Of course, it may simply be that we collectors are all born with the “collector gene” and can’t help it.
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Magazines REAL
by Martha and Ed Biggar
Photos furnished by Linda Boutz Caldwell
The night is dark and both of the people who are packed into the little Dodge minipickup are exhausted from trading off driving for almost twenty hours—nonstop
except for gas and small essential breaks. We were winding through the North Carolina mountains on Highway 40 nearing our goal of attending the 1995 Glass Art Society (GAS) conference in Asheville, North Carolina. We pulled into the hotel parking lot and found a very scarce parking spot. The engine was now off and resting; we hardly had the energy to get out of the truck. My glassblowing partner and I got out and slowly walked to the hotel lobby. She was in need of the restroom, and I was following in a trance. Suddenly, I found myself inside the ladies’ room and immediately whirled around and headed out the door at a fast clip, hoping no one saw me. Outside directly across from me was a tall, thin man sitting in a chair, laughing quite profusely in my direction. I walked/staggered over to him and hastily tried to explain our circumstances, and he laughed even more. We then exchanged our credentials, and the man I had just met was none other then Jean Boutz, the glassblower of great renown.
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