I wanted to be an artist from the ripe old age of six, when my original career choice of becoming a ballerina was struck from the list by a well-meaning teacher, who upon noticing my rather rotund figure and total lack of grace suggested I pursue tap-dancing rather than ballet.    I didn't decide on a medium until several years later, but I vividly remember the day I realized that it had to be glass.  I was on the requisite eighth grade field trip to Washington, DC and was literally stopped in my tracks by the stained glass window with the piece of moon rock in it, located in the National Cathedral.  I knew from that moment that stained glass was my medium.

After college I got a job as an artist, designer and painter in an old established stained glass studio.  Since everyone there was male, and at least 30 years my senior, I was known as "the kid".  It was a small price to pay for all the things "my old guys" taught me:  I learned more about stained glass in that first year there than all my years in college.  Our studio worked on everything from restoring old church windows, to making new windows, to repairing old lamps, etc.  After a few years, I got offered a lateral position in another firm that was soon to have a Tiffany job in their midst.  I couldn't resist the siren song of working on a real Tiffany window, and so I took the new job.  It ended up being all restoration, and no new work.  Unbeknownst to me, I was becoming burned out; I was tired constantly, sick often, and felt like my life was all work and no play.   Soon after the Tiffany job was complete, my company decided to lay off some people.  I never even saw it coming, but my layoff turned out to be one of the best gifts I was ever given.

I started my own studio in the aftermath of the layoff, after having floated through a few temp positions.  I really have the best of both worlds:  I get to work for myself, keep my own hours, and still make new windows.   I get to make easy pieces that take an hour, all the way up to complex pieces that can take two weeks or more of solid work to accomplish. 

I also get to design windows that don't often involve shepherds, angels, or sheep, which is a relief because I never seem to be able to draw very realistic sheep. 

I can’t really tell you how I choose colors or shapes or patterns, or glass.  I typically let an idea for a new window or product percolate in my brain - sometimes for weeks - until it coalesces into something that just “feels right”. Some days that happens more quickly than others.  If I have a really good idea, I try to write it down or sketch it out, so I can go back to it when I have time to play.  I always travel with at least a small pad of paper and a pencil, because as any artist can tell you, inspiration strikes at the weirdest times and from the weirdest places.  I once was in the ladies’ room in an airport and saw the coolest mandala-type design done in the tile.  I took a rubbing of it right then and there so I could reference it later.  

  Most of my work involves basic symbols – things that are easily recognized, from culture to culture, with no translation needed.   While pieces or windows that display complex elements are not necessarily things I avoid, it seems that the windows or small items I consider the most successful are those that are simple in design.  It’s kind of funny, really, but my biggest challenge with my glass is not “with my glass”.  It’s making sure I tap into both my business head and my creative head.  Neither side of my brain can run my business by itself, and often they are at odds (or at least, not in agreement) about things. 

I found Etsy through a friend.  She was telling me that she thought my glass would be popular there.  I checked it out, found it pretty easy straightforward, even for someone with limited computer skills, and decided to set up shop.   The best part about Etsy (in my opinion) is every piece of information I need to be on top of things comes to my inbox, including my bills, my sales, and if people are trying to get in touch with me.