The soul of glass is its heat.These prints function as maps of that heat. They reveal a secret aspect of the glass normally known only to the maker.

The casual viewer may not instantly spot that these prints are made from glass, but no other material would be able to create these high-temperature, organic burns. They have a richness, translucency and liquidity that is an echo of the original glass form. The resulting burntimpressions have a high level of detail as the burns pass through layers of paper and also create embossed areas. They range in color from areas of rich, dense blacks to smoky sepias and watery yellows. The burns are full of light- they have a mysterious photographic quality; in some areas they look as if they are backlit. – – This recent body of work is based in ruins that I studied in 2002 in Italy. By using piles and stacks of traditional Roman glass forms, I once again connect these prints to their glass craft origins. The amphora-style forms I am using reference unearthed antiquities. That feeling of ancient, dirt-covered pieces speaks not only to the ideas of preciousness of the original object, but also extends the meaning of the print when it is completed: the final prints are brown, crusty, and damaged, like an excavated shard. These burn prints are poignant, because they exist simultaneously as aesthetic objects in their own right, and yet also speak of the object that was lost.

The amphora becomes a symbol for the human that is not longer there. These prints remind me of other residue from events in the past- the blast shadows created by the thermic rays from the atomic bomb at Hiroshima, trick ‘spirit photography’ from the early 1900's, and the mysterious prints on the Shroud of Turin. More recent and for me, more resonant, I think of all the singed pieces of paper from the World Trade Center attack that drifted over my area of Brooklyn- little fragments acting as constant reminders of great loss.

the World Trade Center attack that drifted over my area of Brooklyn- little fragments acting as constant reminders of great loss. In many of these drawings, the glass shapes are stacked in high precarious towers. This again speaks about a fragility or temporality of the subject matter. I also enjoy the play of emotional gravity and implied actual gravity- the object look like they are about to topple, but they can not, since they are no longer objects, but just paper.