The Glass Slipper | Lampwork by Sarah Hornik | A blog about glass, beads and everything in between
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The Glass Slipper
Am I Over-Networked?
Let's say I'm doing something. Like, ummm... what would I typically be doing... making a bead? Okay, let's say I'm making a bead.
I post something on Twitter. Sarah Hornik is making a bead!
My Twitter automatically updates my Facebook status. Sarah Hornik is making a bead!
My Twitter and my Facebook both update the widget-thingies on my blog, over there on the left. Does anyone actually look at the widget-thingies? If they do, they are now informed - twice - that I am making a bead. Woohoo!
A day goes by. I take the bead out of the kiln. I photograph it, edit the photo and post it on Flickr. Everything always goes to Flickr first. I don't know why, but that's the way it's always been. Flickr automatically updates its own blog widget and (eventually) my Facebook page. Sarah Hornik uploaded a photo to Flickr!
But still, I wouldn't want anyone to miss the new photo, so I post on Twitter as well. Take a look at my new bead on Flickr!
Twitter updates Facebook again. Twitter and Facebook update my blog again.
Later on, let's say, I post the bead on eBay. eBay updates Facebook. Sarah listed a new auction on eBay. eBay and Facebook both update their blog widgets.
Maybe there's a particularly interesting story behind the bead, so I write a little blog post about it. In the post, I use the photo from Flickr and link to the eBay auction. My blog updates Facebook. Sarah just published a new blog post. I post on Twitter. Read my new blog post and check out my new auction! It's linked to my blog and to eBay. Twitter updates Facebook. Twitter and Facebook update their widgets. And we haven't even gone to the forums yet.
Does your head hurt yet?
Mine does.
With all this supposed marketing, do I actually sell the damn bead? These days, who knows. Sometimes I wonder if I am really getting tons of exposure here, or if it's just the same 3 or 4 people following everything, ripping their hair out and banging their heads against their computer screens.
All right. ALL RIGHT. YOU MADE A DAMN BEAD. We get the idea. Don't you have some actual torching to do?
My actual website, on the other hand - with all of this mind-blowing connectivity - hasn't been updated since 1963. I want a new website (I know, everyone likes it, but I want a new one). I've been trying to design one for what seems like a million years.
I don't know what's up with that. Once upon a time, before all this networking and stuff, I used to be a pretty good web designer. A few years back, this would have been the dream project - a clear structure and lots of fun and colorful imagery to work with. Nice, clean logo, high-res photos, creative freedom... what more could a designer want? But I just can't get it done. I can't do it. I don't like anything I come up with. Nothing seems "right" for more than a few hours. I am the worst web design client in the entire world.
It just isn't working for me. I am desperately sick and tired of my old site and I really want - and need - a new one. At this point, I've even considered hiring someone else to do it, even though that does seem incredibly stupid. But then again, the only people I'd trust to do it are way out of my budget. I really need to figure this out somehow.
I guess I'll go rant about it on Twitter or something.
*sigh*
In Other News...
I have been chosen to be the new administrator for the Israeli Glass Art Forum on Tapuz!
Do I have time for this? Uh, no, not really, but I think it's an important cause... so I guess I'll make time. We have been in dire need of an active local online community for a while here, and I'm glad to be able to do my part in bringing the forum back to life. I think it's going to be a fun place.
We'd love to have some new members - so if you like glass and speak Hebrew, please stop by!
In case you haven't heard - Torch Bugs t-shirts and other cool merchandise is now available on CafePress:
http://www.cafepress.com/Torchbugs
This is a great way to show your support for a great site!
Go on, you know you want to.
It's not news anymore, but I've been meaning to say - RIP, Michael Jackson. As weird as you were, this world seems just a bit weirder without you.
Yeah, I was an 80s child for a while. Never had the sparkly glove and never learned to breakdance, but I used to love watching the Billie Jean video on MTV (way back when the 'M' in there actually represented something). Go figure.
Unholy Cathedrals / Holey Uncathedrals
A weird title for a post, I know... but I'm gonna keep you curious and talk about something else first. I am getting the feeling that my last post may have been misunderstood by some people, so I just wanted to make one thing clear: it was written in humor. I have a strange sense of humor - and you should know that by now. Sure, the whole thing was quite nerve wracking while it was going on, but surprisingly enough, I did get home safely and it's all good now. Really. I didn't write it to get people to feel sorry for me, and I certainly didn't mean to imply that anyone was to blame for the situation. Shit happens sometimes, and when it happens to me, I am usually thinking "well, at least this is going to make a good blog post". Look back and make it funny, you know. If I only wrote about the good stuff, my blog would be boring and you probably wouldn't be reading it.
That said - I keep promising to write about the good stuff, but it's really hard to know where to even begin. I should probably start out with a special thanks to Julia and Oleg for organizing everything, patiently translating for me, making sure I didn't starve to death (humor, humor, funny, haha) and making my visit to Moscow so wonderful.
Thanks go out to my students as well. These classes were a lot of fun for me to teach, even when I couldn't understand what anyone was saying. We all speak the language of glass, right? Everyone was so enthusiastic and creative and I'm glad I got to meet them all.
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It was really cool to see the results!
What else can I say about Planet Moscow... it is definitely one of the most strikingly beautiful places I've ever been. This is the Kremlin, on a lovely sunny day. I ended up taking a nice, relaxing boat ride down the river.
The parks are so huge, you can go walking and almost forget you're in the middle of a big city.
The sunsets are nice too. Sunsets are always nice.
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But let's face it. Some things are just weird. (And funny. Haha. Humor. Funny. The weirdness is nobody's fault; it just is.)
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There seems to be a lot of romance everywhere.
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Speaking of romance, there's a nice tradition for newlywed couples to write their names on a lock, put it on one of the bridges and throw the key into the river. This bridge - I don't know its name - has special "trees" designed specifically for that purpose.
And of course, cynical Sarah looks at these and has to wonder how many of those couples are already divorced. (Haha, humor, funny?)
On the day before my last, we all went to the All-Russia Exhibition Center. That was a lot of fun. If Stalin and Walt Disney hooked up and had an offspring, and that kid designed a theme park, it would probably look something like this. Fabulously surreal.
There were fountains, and rockets, and ducks and stuff. But I think the best part was just hanging out with everyone.
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Then, we went to Victory Park - another one of Moscow's huge and gorgeous green spots. The city said goodbye with a beautiful sunset.
See? See? I told you I had a lot of good stuff to say. I sincerely hope no one will misinterpret THIS post as me having a horrible time in Moscow, because I seriously cannot take it anymore. I had a great time, I swear. And I do want to go back. Okay?
Khrasho.
Now, as for that cathedral stuff. I would like to live in St. Basil's Cathedral - but since I probably can't do that, unless I change my name to Jesus or something - I told you I was going to make some beads inspired by it.
Let me remind you that this building was designed in the 16th century. It's mind-blowing, really.
Now, don't expect the beads to look anything like the actual cathedral - or like any cathedral you've ever seen - hence the name, 'Unholy Cathedrals'. Or 'Holey Uncathedrals'. I can't decide which one is better. The St. Basil colors aren't really my colors, and if I tried to make a bead that looked like a building it would probably end up looking stupid. So, I decided to try my own interpretation - a very abstract one, in Sarah colors. One of my students told me they were discussing my infatuation with this building, and came to the conclusion that I like it because it's like my beads - a bunch of different pieces that don't really match, but somehow look great when put together.
I decided to take that concept to the extreme, and make beads that are made up of a bunch of different elements, seemingly unrelated, but all in one bead.
Wait a minute, aren't all your beads kind of like that?
Well, yeah, but these are sort of a new direction. They are very challenging, technically - like a juggling act; heat control as an x-treme sport or something - especially since I've been making them with Bullseye glass, which comes in beautiful colors, but has a short working range and tends to be quite shocky. I'm happy with the results, and I think there will be more to come.
Are you ready?
Now, on to the next chapter... these beads will be going to the ISGB Gathering in Miami with me, so if you'll be there too, please stop by my table at the Bead Bazaar! I'm leaving for the States in about a week and a half. There's lots to do before then, so I guess now would be a good time to stop babbling and go get some sleep.
Thanks for reading this far. Good night!
Skajateh Pajalsta, Gdyeh Tel-Aviv?*
* Tell me please, where is Tel Aviv?
June 21, 19:00
Oleg drops me off at the train station. It is my last evening in Moscow, and my flight back home leaves at 23:55. We look at the train schedule, and figure out that I need to take the one that leaves at 21:00. I buy a ticket. He shows me where the platform should be. Everything seems simple enough.
19:10
I have a couple of hours to kill. Left to my own devices, I step outside the station and look for a Shokoladnitza. Shokoladnitza is a chain of cafés in Russia, and if you stand at just about any point in Moscow, raise your head and look around, you will see one. Labeled by yours truly as "Sarah-Friendly" a couple of days earlier, they actually have English menus, which actually have a few vegetarian options on them. Unbelievable, I know, but it's true.
Sure enough, there is one across the street, so I go in for a last blini. Since it is my last day and all, I decide to spoil myself with the chocolate-filled one, described on the menu as "legendary".
19:30
Blini good. Chocolate good. Legendary good. Oochen khrasho.
20:30
I pay the bill, bid Shokoladnitza farewell and cross the street, back to the train station. It's still early, but better too early than too late, right? I get my suitcase out of luggage storage and make my way to where the train was supposed to be. There are stairs. I seem to remember Oleg telling me to go up the stairs.
20:35
Out of breath from dragging my suitcase up the stairs, I find myself in a busy hall, with many people rushing about. There is a sign hanging from the ceiling, in English - 'Train to Airport' - with an arrow pointing down. Down, at the middle of the floor. I stand underneath the sign and look down, but all I can see is my feet. Definitely no train. What does the down arrow mean? Straight ahead? Surely it cannot mean 'downstairs', since that is where I just came from. I walk straight ahead, and arrive at a platform. There are 5 or 6 trains there, and I have no idea if one of them is the one I am supposed to take to the airport. Okay, I will somehow figure this out. I look around and see another 'Train to Airport' sign, this time pointing to the left. I walk to the left and find myself outside the station. There is another sign, this time pointing at the entrance. I go back in.
20:40
There is a staircase with another one of those signs above it. 'Train to Airport'. The arrow is pointing down again. You have got to be kidding me. I drag my suitcase back downstairs, follow a couple more signs and find myself right back where I started. Okay, I must be missing something here. I will try again. I follow the signs again. Heavy suitcase goes up the stairs again, heavy suitcase goes down the stairs again, and I am right back where I started - again. It's like The Blair Witch Project, but in a busy train station where you can't understand the language. WTF?
20:50
I find the information booth on the first floor. "Do you speak English?", I ask the woman sitting there.
"Nyet."
"I am looking for the train to the airport. You know. Train. Airplane". I try to make 'train' and 'airplane' signs with my hand.
She stares at me blankly. The thing with non-English speakers in Moscow - it's not just that they don't understand a single word you're saying - they stare at you as if they have never seen a tourist before. It's awkward and strange. I don't know how to say 'train' or 'airport' in Russian and I don't have time to go digging in my suitcase for my phrase book, so I run off to find someone else who might be able to help.
20:55
Most young people in Moscow speak English. That's what everyone says. I approach a dozen or so people who look "young".
"Do you speak English? Ve panemayteh pa-angliski?"
"Nyet."
"Nyet."
"Nyet."
"Train? Airplane?"
"Nyet."
"Look - sign language? Airplane? Please?!"
"Nyet".
20:58
OMG, no one is going to help me and if the train doesn't show up somewhere soon, I am going to miss it. It must be here somewhere. IT MUST.
How difficult can this be?
Upstairs. There were trains upstairs. Surely, one of them must be my train.
I drag my suitcase back upstairs to the platform. There is a security guard standing there. "Ve panemayteh pa... oh, FORGET IT."
21:02
Wherever the freaking train was, I have missed it. I still have no clue where the platform is, but even if I find it, the next one won't be leaving till 22:00. OMG. I am going to miss my flight. I am going to be stuck here on Planet Russia. I really, really just want to go home.
I call Oleg, on the verge of a panic attack. "I can't find the train and I missed the nine o' clock one and the next one doesn't leave till ten, not that it matters because I don't know where it is and I am going to miss my flight and I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!!!"
Calmly, he tries to give me directions to the platform, but I have zero sense of direction and can't follow this kind of thing even when I'm not on the verge of a panic attack.
"I followed the signs. They take me around in a circle. The train is not here. There is no train. I AM GOING TO MISS MY FLIGHT."
"You need to find the platform..."
"I am standing on the platform. There are 6 trains here but I have no way of knowing which one it is. Everything is in Russian."
"It should be a white train", he says.
"There is no white train. The trains here are all green. But wherever the white train is, I HAVE ALREADY MISSED IT. I am going to miss my flight."
"You can get on the 22:00 train", he says. "You won't miss the flight. It's a very fast train."
"But I can't find the very fast white train. There is no fast white train. I'm going to miss my flight."
"Why don't you try asking someone there..."
"NO ONE HERE SPEAKS ENGLISH."
"Have you tried asking..."
"YES. THEY DON'T SPEAK ENGLISH. I AM GOING TO MISS MY FLIGHT. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO."
21:18
At some point I calm down, figuring I'm going to miss my flight anyway, so there is nothing more to lose. I try to follow Oleg's directions again, and finally, I find the right platform. The train leaves at 22:00. The ride is supposed to take 40 minutes. I guess I might as well just give it a try and see what happens. I buy a bottle of diet coke, take a few sips, stick it in my bag and sit down to catch my breath and wait.
21:50
I board the white train. As I am getting settled in my seat, a man comes up to me, asking me something in Russian. The last thing I want to do right now is talk, to anyone, in any language. "I DON'T SPEAK RUSSIAN."
"Is this the train to the airport?" Of course, this has to be the only person in Russia who speaks English.
"I'm not sure. I hope so."
He giggles. "You are on this train with a suitcase and you're not sure if it's going to the airport?"
"I'm not sure about anything anymore. I think it is the right train. It's white." I roll my eyes.
"Where are you from?" he asks.
I am so desperately not in the mood for friendly chit-chat. "Israel." I stare in the other direction, hoping he will take the hint and go away.
"Where?"
"Israel. Is-rael. Tel Aviv."
"You are from Israel?
"Yes. Israel."
He laughs, again. "You live in Israel, where there are so many Russians, and you don't speak Russian?"
Oh my fucking god. SHUT THE FUCK UP.
I bite my tongue, shrug and raise my eyebrows.
"Have a nice trip", he says, and to my delight, walks away.
22:00
Finally, the train starts moving. Maybe this isn't the right train after all, I begin to wonder. Maybe I am going somewhere else right now... like... ummm... Kazakhstan, or something. Yes. With my luck, this is probably the train to Kazakhstan. Where the hell IS Kazakhstan?
There is nothing I can do about it at this point, but sit back and try to enjoy the ride.
22:30
The train slows down and comes to a halt, mid-track. The doors remain closed. I look out the window and there is no station or anything, just trees and a few log cabins. It is the middle of nowhere, definitely not an airport, and the train - which I am now convinced is headed for Kazakhstan - is not moving. I am curious as to what the hell is going on, but English-speaking-guy is gone and there is no one to ask. Everything is silent, till someone in the car begins hiccuping loudly. The whole situation is so absurdly surreal, that I have to giggle quietly to myself.
22:45
Kazakhstan Express, which, theoretically, should have reached the airport five minutes ago, begins moving again.
I am SO going to miss my flight.
23:04
Incredibly enough, I arrive at the airport. It doesn't look like Kazakhstan. I look at the screens to see where the check-in line for my flight is... or was? Counter 4, simple enough. I check to see what number the nearest counter is. 106. One-hundred-and-six. Of course, it would have to be 106. GODDAMMIT.
I grab my suitcase and run across the hall like mad.
23:07
Counter 4. El-Al. Here, at least, people speak English. The check-in is still open.
"I packed my own suitcase, no one helped me, it was with me the whole time, no one gave me anything to take with me, no one suspicious approached me at the airport, I don't have any knives or anything sharp in my hand-luggage, I don't have any guns, bombs, missiles, tanks, weapons of mass destruction or manicure scissors, I'm not a terrorist, I know you have to ask for security reasons, CAN I PLEASE STILL GET ON THE PLANE? Please tell me I'm not too late. PLEASE."
"We were just about to close the check-in", she says. "If you go to the boarding gate right now, you can still make it."
I sigh with relief, grab my boarding pass and RUN.
23:15
Passport control.
Normally, when headed home after a trip abroad, this is the point where I start to feel the going-home-blues. Israelis are known to be really bad at standing on line, and this is most evident and frustrating when you're at the airport, after spending some time in a foreign country where people are civilized. But, as it turns out, Russians tend to be exactly the same way. Whether you're standing on line at the metro station or at the museum, you might as well be invisible. It's not really a line; the fact that you were standing there first bears no importance - it's just a race to the finish line. You can try to protest all you like, but if you don't speak the language, all you will get is a "Shto?" (what?) and a rude, mocking smile.
Same for passport control, obviously. I'm not much of a pusher, so the people standing behind me make their way to the counter before me, while I wait behind the yellow line like an idiot. The clock is ticking. My heart is racing with stress and frustration. No one cares. Shto?
"Flight 616 to Tel Aviv is now boarding", says a voice on the loudspeaker. "All passengers, please arrive immediately at the boarding gate."
Fuck.
Eventually, I somehow manage to make my way through passport control.
23:30
Now for security, my favorite part of the airport... NOT.
"This is the last call for passengers on flight 616 to Tel Aviv", says the voice. "All passengers, please..." Oh fuck off.
In front of me, there is an old man who has been asked to take his shoes off. "Please, I need to get through", I tell the security lady, only to get another one of those blank stares. I point at the time on my boarding pass and at the ceiling, where the announcement is coming from. "I am going to miss my flight."
Blank. Stare.
When my turn finally comes and I walk through the gate-thingie, it beeps. I forgot to take my stupid belt off. I take it off and walk through again - no beeps this time, but the lady is saying something to me in Russian.
"English? Angliski?"
"Nyet."
I want to scream, at the top of my lungs: YOU WORK AT AN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT!!! HOW COULD YOU NOT SPEAK ENGLISH?!?!
Instead, I bite my lip. Security people at airports scare me. I am always afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing and somehow being perceived as a terrorist - or, of looking like I am trying too hard not to say the wrong thing, thus being perceived as a terrorist anyway. I have no idea what they do with people they suspect as being terrorists, but I have always imagined a small, dark interrogation room, where they lock you up for hours, strip-searching you, asking you questions, possibly torturing you for information - then, of course, they throw you in jail and don't let you go home, ever. Or something.
"I don't understand what you are saying", I tell the woman, rapidly losing it but trying to look as calm as possible. "My flight is leaving in 15 minutes and I am going to miss it. What do you want? What? WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!" Calm down, Sarah, this isn't helping.
"Vada", she says.
"Vada?!"
"Vada." She points at my bag.
"Vada? WATER?! WHAT?!?!"
"This is the last call for passengers to Tel Aviv..." the voice says again.
I try pointing at my boarding pass again. "PLEASE."
"Vada." She points at a water bottle on her desk, then at my bag again. "Vada."
"Ohhhhhh." I finally understand that she is referring to the weapon of mass destruction in my bag - the diet coke bottle from the train station, which I had totally forgotten about. Don't even get me started on stupid arbitrary airline security regulations. I take the bottle out of my bag and leave it in the damn tray, along with the small change and whatever crap was in my pockets. I grab my hand luggage, my belt, aggressively push past some people who are standing there (when in Russia, do as the Russians do) and run. Run. RUN.
23:45
All sweaty and out of breath, I make it to the boarding gate at the last possible second. The plane is leaving in 10 minutes, and I am the last one to board. Never in my life have I been so happy to get on a plane back home.
"Brucha Haba'a", says a flight attendant - 'welcome', in Hebrew.
"Toda". I smile from ear to ear, feeling so incredibly relieved to be back in a place where I can communicate with people.
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Later on, when they serve hummus and pitas as part of the meal, I feel so... well, just happy. Food is familiar again, people understand me again, and I am going home.
Don't get me wrong - I had a wonderful time in Moscow. I met some wonderful people, saw some wonderful places and learned a whole lot, and I am grateful to have had the opportunity to be there. Hell, I will probably be going back again next year - at least next time I will know what to expect. There are many good things I could say about this city, and I will write about those tomorrow.
But for now - seriously - there's no place like home.
"Lenin told Stalin he thinks you're pretty..."
Talk about a sentence you never thought you'd hear in your life.
I don't think I'm ready to write the wordy post yet. There are just too many words floating around in my head (some are in Russian, and I don't remember what most of them mean). Moscow is quite overwhelming.
Visiting Moscow is truly like visiting a different planet. If there weren't normal-sized people walking around, you'd think it was inhabited by a gigantoid alien species with a very developed sense of creativity. Once you get past the initial shock, grow accustomed to the sheer size of everything, discover that you actually can read Cyrillic if you try hard enough and just accept the fact that the hotel staff does not / will not speak English and has absolutely no interest in serving you, it is a very cool place.
Today was "Silver Secrets" day. The abnormal awful heat that was going on for my first couple of days here seems to have subsided, and I think we had a good class. The students are great and everyone (well, besides the hotel staff) is really nice and friendly.
It doesn't get dark here till 11PM, which is kind of awesome. It gives me lots of time to go sightseeing after teaching, which is really good because there's a whole lot of sights to see. After today's class, the girls took me to do some touristy stuff.
I am madly in love with Saint Basil's Cathedral.
This wasn't my first visit to Red Square - I tried to go there a coupleof days ago, but it turned out to be Day of Russia - RussianIndependence Day. Imagine my surprise when I exited the Metro stationto find hundreds of soldiers and policemen rushing around. Has World War III finally broken out?After realizing what was going on and making my way to the square, allI could see was a huge stage in front of the cathedral, and huge crowdsin front of that (have I mentioned everything here is huge?) Today Igot to take a closer look.
This must be the most beautiful building in the world. In fact, according to a legend (according to my apparently out-of-date guidebook), Ivan the Terrible had the architect who designed it blinded when he had completed the work, so he would never be able to design something so beautiful again.
No, you can never have enough photos of this building - but they really don't do it justice. You should try to see it yourself someday.
If you ever do visit Moscow, expect the unexpected. Make an effort to learn some Russian phrases, or you'll be beating yourself up about it later. Be aware that if you ask for water you may get a glass of something that tastes like carbonated pickle juice. If you're a vegetarian, run for your life (in the direction of the nearest Italian restaurant. If worse comes to worst, they have Pizza Hut and Sbarro. And Pringles). Don't forget to bring your camera!
I can definitely see some cathedral-inspired beads in the not-so-distant future. Ambitious, I know. I'm not exactly sure what they're going to look like yet.
Hey, this came out more wordy than I thought it would. Yay me!
Tomorrow is "Glass, Glitter and Gravity" - the last workshop for this "session". Then, I have a couple of days off - and then another session of classes. As of now, life is pretty good.
I would love to end with a "good night" in Russian, but for the life of me, I can't remember how to say it. Russian is hard. Will "good morning" do? Dobre ootra!
More photos on Flickr.
Stuff I've been meaning to write about
Teaching in Tel Aviv
Yesterday was the last lesson for my advanced beadmaking course here in Tel Aviv. This was my first time teaching an actual course, as opposed to one-day workshops, and I think it was a good experience. They were a great group, and this kind of class structure - 3 hours once a week, for 6 weeks - definitely has its advantages. I got to know the students pretty well, understand their individual strengths and weaknesses and try to point them in good directions. I think having a week's time between lessons was good for them as well, because it gave them time to practice the techniques at home, and come back the next week with questions and results. This kind of course would obviously not be practical when I'm traveling (haha, I wish I could stay in one cool place for six weeks just to teach a course), but I'm glad I got the chance to do it locally - and I do hope it will happen again. (A special thanks to the staff at Gilraphal for being so helpful!)
I guess the more I teach, the more I learn about teaching - and about myself as a teacher. For instance, the concept of teaching beginners' classes has never really appealed to me in the past - you know, too much responsibility involved, and I like teaching my own techniques to people who are already familiar with glass. But these days, I'm thinking I might give it a try at some point. I think I have the ability to give students a good foundation - in some cases, possibly better than what some other teachers are giving them - and I feel like it's my "duty", in some way. Who knows, it might even be fun. Definitely something to think about.
In the meantime - during this class, I put together a list of glass definitions in Hebrew. Since there seems to be a general lack of glass information in Hebrew (online and otherwise), I've decided to make this available for download. Click here for a PDF version (in Hebrew, have I mentioned?)
Many thanks to Pam Dugger for granting me permission to translate her list. You can find the original English version on Torch Bugs.
The D-Word
This is something I've been contemplating blogging about for a while. It's a long story, really, but I'll try to keep it short and to the point.
There's this new glass on the market. They call it Devardi. It is being imported to the US from India, and it is cheaper than most other brands of glass available. The glass has been reported to be of poor quality, compared to the other brands out there. This has caused a lot of the other d-word (drama!) on the lampwork forums, and if you're interested in the whole story, you can read about it there.
I have not tried this glass, and I have no intention of doing so. To be honest, I don't think anyone should be using it. Artisan glass beads are meant to be durable and long-lasting, and beads made of crumbling low-quality glass could negatively affect the entire lampwork bead market. But it's not my job to tell people what to do. I do want to explain why I'm not using it, and assure my buyers that I do make a point of using only premium glass from reputable companies in my work. So, in no particular order -
1. I have a problem with the people who are selling the glass. Their entire marketing plan (if one could call it that) has been paved with deception and ignorance, not to mention utter rudeness and ridiculous accusations being directed at respected members of the lampwork community. Once again, I won't go into it here, but you can read about it on the forums. I don't like these people. They're not getting my money, no matter what they're selling and no matter how cheap it is.
2. Out of the people who have actually tried the glass, some have reported low-quality, dirty, shocky, bubbly rods which are difficult to work with, and incompatibility issues which have caused their beads to literally crumble. However, others report that the glass is great and they have had minimal issues, or no problem at all. As I have no reason to believe that any of my fellow lampworkers are lying, this leads me to the conclusion that the glass is inconsistent, at best. Low-quality glass makes low-quality beads. I won't use it. I like my beads and I want to know that they are going to be around, in one piece, for a very long time.
3. This glass comes from India. Glass factories in India are known for their poor working conditions, child labor, and a long list of horrors. Some say this is a good reason to do business with third-world countries, because supporting them is the only way to make things better for the workers. I don't really buy this - not in this format at least. I have no reason to believe that my money would be going towards improving factory conditions and not into the wallets of the factory owners. Now, of course, the people selling the glass in the States claim that the conditions in the factory they are working with are not really that bad - but, as previously mentioned, these people are not exactly credible; and appear to be willing to say just about anything to make an extra buck. Besides, you can see for yourself - here are the images that the factory itself is proud of, apparently. Nice, eh?
4. Yes. As you can see in the video, the factory that makes the glass is also a manufacturer of cheap, mass-produced glass beads - a problem the lampwork community has had to deal with for years. Why would an artisan beadmaker want to support such a company?
Well, I don't.
Let's just leave it at that.
PTSD
Pre-Travel Stress Disorder, that is.
I love traveling. It's one of the best parts of my life. Really. I wouldn't trade it for the world. And yet, before every trip I take, I get these horrible stress attacks. There's always a million things I need to do before my trip and no chance I will be able to finish them all in time. There's always a bit of fear of the unknown. I keep having weird dreams about getting to the airport and realizing I forgot my passport, or ticket, or laptop, or something else I really need, or just generally arriving late and missing my flight. Other dreams feature people I really don't want to see, showing up in my hotel room and stuff. Ah, the wonders of the sub-conscious.
It's always like this before my trips. Once I finally get to the airport, it all fades away and things are wonderful, but in the meantime... argh.
I'm leaving for Russia in a couple of days, and I'm really excited. I've been looking forward to this trip for a while. But still, I'm stressed out. I've been reading a lot about Moscow, but I still feel like I have no idea what to expect - like this is going to be a dramatically different experience from any of my past travels. I'm nervous. I don't know the language, and in this case, I can't even pretend to read it - I've been trying to learn the Cyrillic alphabet, but it still looks like a bunch of confusing little spaceships to me. I think vegetarian food is going to be hard to find. Various other potential difficulties keep popping up in my mind. But things will be okay, I know - they always turn out to be. I can't wait to meet my Russian students and tour the city and take lots of pictures. This is going to be great.
Right?
YES.
I mean, DA.
Classes in the Netherlands, October 2009
I think I may have already mentioned this at some point, but anyway - I will be teaching at Miriam's studio in Leende again this autumn, and registration is now open!
You can find more information here.
Besides my usual workshops - Silver Secrets, Freestyle Focal Fun and Glass, Glitter and Gravity - I am adding a sparkling new one to the menu! This is a two-day class, called "Everything Beads". It's a version of the advanced beadmaking class I am teaching here in Tel Aviv these days, and it covers many of the techniques I have been working with over the past year or two - fun! I hope to see you there.
I wanted to tell you about some of the beads I've been making lately, but my blog's control panel is acting all weird tonight and I am running out of patience, so I will do that tomorrow. In the meantime, don't forget to check out my latest eBay auctions for a bunch of new focals and sets!
My Television Debut
A few weeks ago, I was contacted by someone from Channel 23 - an Israeli TV channel no one ever watches; "Israel Educational Channel" or something. They asked if I'd be willing to participate in a daytime talk show, in a piece they were doing about people who work at home and have interesting jobs. Now - while the thought of "being on TV!" doesn't excite me quite as much as it seems to excite the general public - I had never done anything like that before, so I figured it would be a cool experience. You know, the kind of thing I should try at least once; kind of like working with Bullseye glass, listing $0.99 auctions during a recession or going to an ISGB Gathering.
I had a long telephone interview with a researcher, who asked a lot of questions about my work and my life, and kind of gave off the impression that the piece was actually going to have something to do with that. My work. My life. Me? I was imagining a little interview, where I'd be able to show off some beads, maybe even some travel stories, and tell them what my life is really like - then there would be a discussion panel about working at home. "Bring as many beads with you as you can", the researcher reminded me at the end of the interview. "We will want to display them on the show".
They had me come in just a few days later, at 8am. Why anyone would want to do anything at 8am is totally beyond me. Blah. Things were not quite what I had expected them to be.
After they slathered 3 tons of make-up on my face, thus wiping out all my facial features and making me look like a weird Barbie-doll version of myself, someone pointed to a sofa and told me to wait there with the others; the shoot would start in a few minutes. The girl who had interviewed me on the phone wasn't there, so I tried to show someone else the two boxes of beads I had brought with me. "Uh, yeah, we can put a few of those on the coffee table once we get started", she said, and ran off to take care of something or other. So, Barbie-me sits there and waits patiently.
"Okay, they're ready for you now".
I got up, along with two women and a man, none of whom I had been introduced to, and went inside the studio. "Uh... I have these beads here with me. They told me to bring them", I told one of the producers.
"You can set those up here", she points at the table, "but please hurry because we need to get started".
"Well, actually, this could take a couple of minutes." I had brought some bead stands that needed to be assembled.
"We don't have time", she said. "I'll help you". She starts grabbing random beads, and, to my horror, places them on top of eachother in random stacks.
"Uh, no, they don't go like that. Each one stands alone."
"Okay, this will be enough", she says, whisking away the boxes and most of the beads I had brought. This was annoying. I mean, if they only wanted to display a few, I would have made a point of selecting them more carefully. Oh well. I guess it didn't matter much, as the beads only got about 2 seconds of blurry airtime anyway.
So, I sit down on the set with the other three people. I figure out that the woman with the reddest lipstick is the show host (whom I probably should have recognized or something, but hey, I live in a bubble, and I don't watch Channel 23). The other woman turns out to be a journalist who works at home, and the man is an organizational psychologist who seems to think he knows a whole lot about working at home. It doesn't take me long to catch on to the fact that this piece is not about me, my work, or the fact that I live a weird and/or interesting life.
Which I do. Have an interesting life, that is. I quit a lucrative career to pursue what I wanted to do. I work in a fascinating, magical medium. I teach classes. I write E-books. I travel the world. I had a freaking solo exhibit just a few months ago. But none of this is why I am here in this TV studio. The only thing that is interesting about my life, in the context of this show, is the fact that I work at home. Yes. I work at home. Millions of people work at home; this is not a new and revolutionary concept. No wonder no one watches channel 23. Why did they choose me? It could have been any random person who works at home. I guess I will never know the answer to that.
"So, you make these... things... from glass", says the host. "These are really amazing, you can just look at them for hours and keep discovering new things", she tells the camera. This is completely phony, of course - she never looked at my glass "things" for a second. She's just there to do her job. With that, the glass section of our program is over.
The other woman, the journalist, describes her life, which is the complete opposite of how I live. The psychologist goes on and on about a pile of stereotypes concerning working at home. Yawn. The other woman fits in with this just perfectly. Oh yes, of course she makes sure to go out and see people every day so she doesn't get too lonely. Yes, she is meticulously organized - hell, she even pays a financial adviser to organize every moment of the day for her. No, of course there is no way she could pull it off without her husband's salary. The shrink nods in approval.
I sit there, debunking these ridiculous theories.
"You don't have to get dressed up and go out every day", the host turns to me. "You don't get to have conversations at the water cooler. Isn't that depressing?"
"Why would that be depressing?"
"You wake up in the morning, you grab a cup of coffee and a croissant and sit at your computer..." the shrink describes what a typical day in my life must be like.
"I don't wake up in the morning." Everyone laughs.
"You must be really organized. People who work at home need to be very, very organized, or else they can't make it work."
"I am actually not very organized."
And so on. And so forth.
At some point I realize - this is what the masses want to hear. They want to hear that working at home is difficult and depressing; nothing but a pile of disadvantages and not a water cooler in sight. They want to hear that there is no way they can make it work unless they are superhero-organization-freaks and their spouse makes a nice salary. Be afraid. Be very afraid. You'll get lonely. You'll miss the water cooler. There's no way you could possibly do it on your own. No one wants to hear about the wonderful sense of freedom and independence that comes with being your own boss; the possibility of life without a water cooler. If they did, how would they all get themselves out of bed tomorrow morning and go sit in their offices all day?
Anyway. TV. Been there. Done that. Woohoo.
The only person who actually showed any interest in my beads was the make-up artist. She was nice.
The airdate is tomorrow, May 17 at 8:00, 12:00 and 18:45 (it was originally supposed to be May 19, so in case you are my mother or something and you actually plan on watching it on TV, please note the change). If you're a Facebook friend of mine, you can watch it on my profile page. Enjoy.
Wanna see what insanity looks like?
Look! $0.99 auctions!
Who would be crazy enough to do a thing like that at a time like this? Hmph.
Meet my Bullseye beads. I'm having trouble deciding if I like this glass or not. One thing I definitely like about it is the colors.
Who would be crazy enough to do a thing like that at a time like this? Hmph.
Meet my Bullseye beads. I'm having trouble deciding if I like this glass or not. One thing I definitely like about it is the colors.