![]() ![]() “I know this place,” he said, naming a town on the Rhine River famous for its castle. One day a year or two later an older man born in Germany came in and looked at a panel made from the same design. I just smiled and sold the piece to her and made a promise to go there one day. I told her I hadn’t drawn it that way, had never been there, but she told me I had got it just right. “My mother was born there.” And she named a village in the south of France. A young woman walked into my shop a number of years ago and looked at this medallion. ![]() ![]() It is my own design, and I drew it from pure imagination. It is this which gives the detail between the lead lines, and I’ve used here in this panel a number of early French and English mannerisms, the orderly fields, the trees like broccoli, the perfect neat order of houses within the walls. After I took up stained glass myself in 1969, I build my first kiln so I could duplicate the black trace paint which was fired onto the glass in medieval times. I was young, and I wanted to see the world in such a simple, idealistic, maybe even naive way. It was wonderful to see the bright colors, the ancient materials, the whiff of history, the stories told by the glass. When I was a kid growing up in Brooklyn, I got introduced to 12th and 13th century stained glass in a Museum called The Cloisters, a branch of New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art. ![]()
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