Lighten up!

One of the wonders of stained glass is its expressiveness. Cold glass, shaped and bound with lead, and infused with light, can portray a tremendous range of emotions. In every historical period, windows have illustrated joy, sorrow, defeat and spiritual triumph in the stories they tell their viewers. One element seen less often in windows is that of humour. With its lengthy ecclesiastical tradition, stained glass is expected to be serious; but there is no rule that this must be so. In fact, there is a thread of playfulness and fanciful imagery that stretches back almost to the beginnings of stained glass itself; and this element of fancy continues to enrich the art. More recently, glass artists have played on the medium itself in order to delight and challenge viewers.

In medieval times, fanciful treatments were most often given to demons, whose sheer fiendishness gave painters free rein in how they would portray them. These creatures inhabit the borders of some windows, and leer out with diabolical mirth from scenes of Hell and damnation. It is said that some of these caricatures bore a striking resemblance to patrons and officials of the church, and that these are often found farther up in the window - perhaps to be safely out of range of the fading eyesight of the church elders.

An excellent example of the historic use of imaginative figures is the monumental “Last Judgement” window at St. Mary’s Church in Fairford, England. Although the top section of this Fifteenth Century window was restored (read “ruined”) in the Nineteenth Century, the lower half is largely original. Saint Michael stands in the centre, weighing souls. He is oblivious to a small red devil that is climbing onto the scales and trying to tip the balance. To the right is Heaven, and to the left, Hell. Evidently, the medieval artists found it easier to imagine Hell, for the portrayal of devils, sinners and the fires of wrath has made this one of the most memorable and well-known English windows. Although some of the figures are almost comic, when seen in context they take on a macabre aspect, and through this they strengthen, rather than undermine the story that the window tells.

A different sort of vision marks a Creation window by Marc Chagall, at All Saints Church in Tudley, Kent. In this window, presented in thoroughly exquisite detail, Adam and Eve stand face to face with the notorious apple hovering weightless above their outstretched hands. Is it being tossed? And if so, who has tossed it?

The movement of stained glass away from strictly ecclesiastical settings has led to some wonderful explorations. A glass screen by Mimi Gellman combines darker and lighter elements to evoke a disorienting sense of menace and mystery. In the lower part of the window, shadowy figures inhabit a barren landscape. Above them, a field of blue hosts fragments of life, including the monstrously comic creature at the left. Floating over it all is a bird-like female figure. The tension between all of these elements makes this a powerful and memorable piece.

Taking its inspiration from the other arts, the medium of stained glass becomes itself a part of the message in some works. Stained glass windows that play with the image, weight and traditions of glass itself are a modern innovation, and one that is full of potential.

Tony Lee’s elegant, interior screen is both a beautiful work, and a playful commentary on the traditions of glass blowing. It was created from hot glass forms which have been sectioned on a lapidary saw. The sections were then re-formed into fused, one-inch-thick glass ‘blocks’, and set into the lattice-like framework.

The work of John Stonkus provides another example of an imaginative play on expectations. Stonkus has linked an array of mirrors; some have been sandblasted, and others have been left clear. The viewer approaches the piece as an inquisitive spectator, and suddenly finds herself reflected in the mirrors as part of the piece itself. There is a shock of recognition, and then a chuckle over being “caught” in this work. Underlying the playfulness is another message - of how we distance ourselves from, and participate in art.

Of course, some glass works play with the materials for the sheer joy of doing so. One of my favourites is a piece that caught my eye as we were driving through my home town. It was hanging in the window of a tea shop, and upon seeing it, we immediately pulled over for a closer look. Although the shop was closed, and I couldn’t see the entire piece, I was delighted with this engaging and playful art glass work. The window was composed of a collection of clear glass objects - plates, ash trays, jam jar lids, and a voluptuous, eight-inch-high butter dish cover. These treasures were surrounded by clear prisms and jewels, and the whole piece was foiled together in one extravagant and exuberant piece. My own, more serious nature had never let me imagine such a work. Eventually, I bought the work from the artist, and it continues to be a delight.

It is not always easy to bring a lighter approach to stained glass. Aside from the “seriousness by association” with church glass, there is the window-making process itself, which doesn’t lend itself to the impulsiveness that sparks much of the humour in art. When an artist works on paper or canvas, an idea can be expressed almost as it is formed. Not so in stained glass, where every section of a window requires careful thought and planning, and a series of fabrication steps. Nevertheless, as these examples show, it’s worth the effort - for it’s at the edges of the art form that some of the most interesting things happen.