In Depth/In Perspective

How deep is a window? Is it only the thickness of the glass, or is it more? Glass in its transparency plays with our sense of depth; we may see the surface, but our vision is drawn beyond, to a barely glimpsed background - buildings or trees or a busy street - to the sky, or even to the sun - the source of its light.

Paint on glass strongly affects our sense of depth. In the window’s dimensionless world of light and colour, paint stops the eye and focuses attention on the glass surface. In heavily painted glass, the sense of real depth can be lost completely, save perhaps for an illusion of perspective created in the painting itself.

In my work, I have tended to use paint sparingly, if at all - incorporating enough to bring across an image or idea, while being careful not to lose the visual depth that I love so much in stained glass. For this reason, the technique of silk-screening on glass had little appeal for me - although, interestingly, the very first window I made at Art College incorporated a screen-painted image of my grandmother. Despite the nostalgic appeal of the piece, I found the photographic quality of the image antithetical to my ideals of the medium. It seemed flat and lifeless - lacking both the beauty of depth, and the essential influence of the artist’s hand. Other examples I saw of screened images on glass had the same effect, and I left the technique behind for several years. Only recently have I begun to explore its possibilities as an artistic technique.

Silkscreen ‘painting’ on glass isn’t a modern invention. It was used extensively in Victorian times for borders and “pattern” windows, as a substitute for hand-painted glass. The popularity of screen-painted images faded as mass-produced Victorian windows fell out of fashion. But during the 1960s, as interest in the art and craft of stained glass was revived, silk-screening on glass resurfaced. Several contemporary artists make use of screened images in their work: Joachim Klos, Wilhelm Buschulte, Mimi Gellman and Rodney Bender, to name just some. Seeing the ways they have used this technique made me reconsider my objections to silk-screening on glass.

Significantly, these artists don’t use screened images for simple photo transfer, or as a substitute for glass painting; rather, they use the screening technique to create unique artistic effects. Their work is characterized by a strong integration between the screened image, the glass that frames it, and the overall design of the piece. The tension between glass and image, depth and surface, can be very beautiful. But for this tension to work, the artist must use images sensitively, in a way that retains the beauty and sense of depth of the materials. The glass should be able to “breathe” around and through the images.

The work of these artists, and my own experimentation, showed me the rich potential of screen-painting - as long as one respects its limitations. In general, I find that screens of photographs and highly realistic painting are too visually dense and self-contained to translate well to glass. More successful are those pieces that use drawings, or images of stonework and sculpture. For additional effect, these images can be altered - by expanding, shaping or fragmenting them until only the essence of the original drawing is left.

I returned to silk-screening in 1996 because of a specific commission. This work, for the Jean Vanier Chapel in Collingwood, Ontario, was based on the theme of Creation. In designing the window, I considered the theme in a broader sense than it is traditionally pictured; creation as taking place not only in the birth of the world, but in the continual discovery and invention that has echoed that original act. Although I was committed to this idea, I wasn’t sure how I would be able to express it in one window - even one that was 30 feet high.

I began to research early maps of our continent, seeing them as a symbol of discovery and creation - a continual unfolding of our consciousness. These maps contained beautiful drawings and illustrations of the European discovery of North America: the native peoples, animals, plants, birds and fish. The maps also showed a gradually growing awareness by the Europeans of the vastness and complexity of this continent. They provided a link between the creation theme and the window’s own unique environment - a shipbuilding town on the shores of Georgian Bay. The maps became a metaphor for me for our understanding of creation as taking place in the past, present and future - an ongoing revelation.

Starting with these early maps, I began to bring together others, from different eras in the community’s development. A contemporary drawing showed the town plan and the shoreline of Georgian Bay in a combined map and perspective. As I worked with the maps, I saw that any attempt to copy them by hand would quite probably lose the unique character and the fine, delicate lines that made them so attractive. In looking for a way to preserve this essential graphic beauty in their translation to glass, we eventually chose silk-screening. In this project I collaborated with Sattler Studio in Nova Scotia. Their technical expertise, and their dedication and enthusiasm for working with artists, made the project a joy.

My intent in the design was not to try to reproduce the drawings in their original context, but rather to bring them, with their unequalled quality, into a modern work. The window centers on a vivid sun, adapted from Samuel de Champlain’s 1617 map and New World sketches. The sun was magnified 500% and screened onto a selenium red which has been left transparent. This is the anchor for all of the images, with its sweeping rays of orange light radiating out over the entire window.

A collage of maps and drawings weaves among the sun’s rays, flowing in, around and through the glass shapes. The maps, in their differing scales and focus, create a sense of a setting that is both local and universal. And by overlapping maps from different times, I sought as well to evoke a feeling of rekindled memory.

The visual story of creation moves through the Lights of Heaven, including the sun, moon and stars. Radiant light, illuminating all of creation, passes from the top of the window to the shoreline of Georgian Bay. The image flows into symbols of heaven and earth, plants, flowers, animals and trees, all represented from drawings and ancient maps. In this section of the window we combined screen painting on flashed glass, sandblasting and matte painting. An added element was incorporated by stippling out the matte paint in some areas to give occasional transparency. Some of the flashed glass was composed of three layers. Once the screened image was fired, the glass was sandblasted to achieve the desired colour or tonal gradation.

My version of ‘Adam and Eve’ in the window was taken from Champlain’s New World sketches. These figures were magnified by 800%, screened and fired. Then, the map was screened over the entire glass area - except for the inside of the figures - and the piece was fired again.

The glass I used was made by Lambert’s in Germany. All of it is hand-blown antique. The images have been screen-painted and fired on the front, and some of the glass is back-painted with a white opacifier which gives a translucent appearance. The combination of transparent, translucent and opaque sections in the window creates a shifting sense of depth. In the chapel’s austere architecture, the effect is of memory and story infusing the colours of the window.

The “Lights of Heaven” project rekindled my interest in photo silk-screening, and we have since used the technique on another project. This was a series of aisle windows for Immaculate Conception Church. The commission consisted of four windows, each with a triangular “cap” and a skylight canopy above it. Here, we once again used screened images - both for the central subjects, and for shape and texture in the background.

In the central portion of each aisle window, historical figurative images were used. We abstracted them somewhat by photocopying the historic drawings and creating high-contrast, fragmented images. In the Nativity window, the central figures are from a 15th Century Botticelli painting, enlarged and abstracted until it reads almost as a pattern. The surrounding field is a screened pattern from a mosaic floor. The passages of night sky which connect the window to the skylight are a sandblasted blue streaky on clear. In the triangular windows above, the circle combines a hand-painted image with a screened-on texture.

Another Botticelli painting was used for the central figures in the “Annunciation” window. This detail clearly shows the strong graphic quality which can be achieved. In the “Sacrifice of Isaac” window, the image of the ram, from a Roman mosaic, is combined with a graphic texture. In each of these windows, the effects achieved by screening are not photographic, nor could they have been realized through traditional painting.

Through the experience of these two projects, I have learned that like photography itself, photo silk-screening can take many forms - from the realistic, documentary style which I tried and rejected, to a more abstract textural and graphic tool, which can produce effects which cannot be achieved in any other way. Most importantly, it is a way to play with depth and dimension - with unlimited creative possibilities.