"If you wear contacts and open the kiln, they'll melt to your eyes."
Thus began our lesson in fusing glass. Said kiln heats to 1400 degrees, but since our friends Will and Robert's basement was like a meat locker, I still managed to lean up against it for warmth. Go figure.
The lesson was their generous birthday gift for Floyd and it began with cutting the glass, something for which we had neither the talent nor the skill:
Then we laid it out:
Then we baked it (and by we I mean they), adding the vaguely obscene-sounding "frit balls" for texture. Then baked it again slumped over a mold, a process called--get this--"slumping."
Here's the final product, of which we are absurdly, disproportionately proud.
You'd think we'd gone to the beach and ground the sand into glass ourselves. That said, neither of us have any inclination to do it again. Cross it off the list. Done. Moving on...