Lampworking & Glass

For posts about beadmaking and beady stuff

No, not THAT kind of quickie ::frown::. I spent all evening doing all the show prep stuff that I know not to put off until the last minute but do so any­way. I always end up clean­ing the last batch of beads on the last night, and then they have to be sorted, culled, placed into sets, inven­to­ried, placed into the right place in the dis­play boxes. Every­thing has to be fit into as few boxes and totes as fea­si­ble, and then even­tu­ally put into the car. Oops? Did I say put into the car? That didn’t get done yet. It may wait until morning.

Heck, I’m not even sure what I’m going to wear tomor­row! I just know that I bet­ter be at the Cobb Gal­le­ria by 8 a.m. ready to unpack and set up because the doors open at 10, and we HOPE there will be lots of cus­tomers look­ing for unique hand­made hol­i­day gifts…

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I was told sev­eral years ago that if you have round beads that have bro­ken in half due to ther­mal shock, you can use your kiln to slump them down into lit­tle oval cabo­chons and thereby make use of oth­er­wise wasted glass. This cer­tainly appealed to me, being one to not waste any­thing. I mean, other peo­ple have nubs and shorts of glass that they are always try­ing to get rid of, but MY shorts get used up until there’s essen­tially noth­ing left.

Of course, the peo­ple that have slumped their beads were doing it with “soft” glass, aka COE 104 Effetre/Moretti/Vetrofond glass. Did that stop me from try­ing it with my poor borosil­i­cate bead halves?

My first attempt was in my own kiln, which wouldn’t get above 1700 degrees. That isn’t hot enough to slump boro. Although the lit­tle bead halves looked a tiny bit flat­ter and more pol­ished, they still had their lit­tle grooves on the backside.

Then I took them over to my par­ents’ house to use the big guns, er, kiln (my mom’s pot­tery kiln) on them. I was fig­ur­ing what the hell, let’s give it a shot, so I set it to ramp up to 2000 degrees and let ‘er go. Four hours later, that kiln had topped out around 1930 degrees, and I had no clue whether the beads were slump­ing or not. I said to hell with it and cut off the con­troller to let them cool down overnight.

When I went back and pulled them out the next day, they were def­i­nitely slumped into nicely shaped cabs…but almost all of them had turned from their nice bright boro col­ors to a cloudy yel­low!! Dismay!!!

Accord­ing to my friend Jo, that was the sil­ver in the boro color react­ing at such a high tem­per­a­ture with the clear, and there is noth­ing to be done at that point. I still ran the cabs through the kiln one more time on my nor­mal boro strik­ing cycle, which may have helped a few of them, but most remained that cloudy baby-poop yellow.

Con­clu­sion? EPIC FAIL.

Unlike you may think, I don’t torch right up until the night before a show try­ing to make as much prod­uct as pos­si­ble. Tonight, in fact, was likely my last ses­sion on the torch before this weekend’s Down the Street Bead Show.

Any­thing that’s made on a man­drel — that means beads — has to be cleaned after it comes out of the kiln and off the man­drel. That means haul­ing out the handy Dremel and zap­ping all the bead release out of the mid­dle, under water. Yes, it’s messy! Once the beads are cleaned and dried, they have to be sorted and culled. The wonky ones go into the Infa­mous Wonky Box, first-quality exper­i­ments go into the Orphans box, and sets have to be matched up and grouped together before going on dis­play. Sets and focals also have to be inven­to­ried and priced. The beads have to be placed into the appro­pri­ate box or on the rods for the big upright dis­play so that when we get to the show, we just put the rack together and it’s ready.

Actu­ally, I had intended to just do pen­dants tonight, since they are not made on a man­drel and there­fore don’t need bead release cleaned out. All I have to do is pull them out, rinse them off, and voila! ready for inven­to­ry­ing and tag­ging. But I real­ized that I had most of a really cool twisty remain­ing from torch­ing last week, and that I should really fin­ish off that set. So I did reg­u­lar beads, and teeny beads for ear­ring pairs, and a small focal bead to use it up. Then came the pen­dants — two hearts and two stones. I’m hop­ing that the odd lot batch of Solara I got recently strikes as nicely on pen­dants as on the two exper­i­men­tal beads from last week. If it does, it’ll be used for a lot more heart pendants!

My busi­ness part­ner Andrea com­mented on Twit­ter this week that

I totally fail at brand­ing. I tweet about res­cue dogs, acad­e­mia, early music, lam­p­work and jew­elry, words, health care, and politics.

She’s not alone — I could almost have writ­ten that tweet, though mine would have said “I tweet about res­cue cats, com­put­ing, lam­p­work and jew­elry, bel­ly­danc­ing, chain­maille, and teach­ing.” The same thing is true of my blog­ging, as you know if you read Art of the Fire­bird reg­u­larly. I blog and Tweet and post about what­ever I damn well please, which means I may focus on beads one day, cats the next, and my sore abs the third.

Of course, this goes against every­thing you see from the self-proclaimed “social media experts” who state that your Brand must be tightly focused and con­tain noth­ing extra­ne­ous or unre­lated to your major prod­uct. By this the­ory, my blog/website/Twitter/Facebook should be focused only on my lampworking/jewelry busi­ness because every­thing else con­fuses my brand­ing. I should have another set of accounts for ani­mal res­cue, and yet another for teach­ing mat­ters (okay, I DO have a sep­a­rate web site for the teach­ing, but still…).

I sus­pect that the peo­ple who say this either a) don’t have a real life into which they fit social media and mar­ket­ing, or b) have no clue about being a Poly­math (or, as Bar­bara Sher terms them, a Scan­ner). It’s just not real­is­tic to man­age mul­ti­ple blogs or social media accounts for dif­fer­ent things. There’s the time fac­tor, of course, but there’s also the “keep­ing things straight” fac­tor. Sure as any­thing I’d mis-post half of what I write to the wrong place.

I’m NOT only a lam­p­work glass artist, or a chain­mailler, or an ani­mal res­cue activist, or a com­puter sci­en­tist, or a pro­fes­sor, or any­thing else. I’m all of these, and more. If I limit my post­ings to only one aspect, that isn’t the true me. Any poly­math will tell you that we can’t be lim­ited to one thing — even my brother the social media maven doesn’t man­age to limit his Twit­ter and Face­book to one focus!

In truth my “Brand” is ME, ALL of me, and that’s what my blog, and my Twit­ter account, and my Face­book account, reflect. So SEO/marketing/branding rules be damned, I’m brand­ing the Poly­mathic Me, all of her, because that’s what makes me unique!

Obser­va­tions:

  • Even after rush hour ends, Atlanta traf­fic, even in the off-direction, is no fun.
  • There’s a Carhartt out­let at Com­merce. I won­der if they carry women’s stuff.
  • Bull­dogs are love­ably slob­bery fun to pet.
  • Play­ing tug-of-war with a 40 pound bull­dog is a good work­out for your del­toids & such.
  • The guys at Moun­tain Glass Arts don’t see me very often, but they do seem to like it when I (and my credit card) stop by.
  • Burger King’s food hasn’t improved in recent years.
  • What goes up, up, up on I-26 must even­tu­ally come down, down, down into Tri-Cities.
  • Andes Mint ice cream sand­wiches are rather tasty.
  • It gets dark early in east Tennessee.
  • I-81 still has its share of crazy dri­vers after dark.
  • Some­times it’s just as well to have snacks in the room instead of going back out hunt­ing down a real dinner.
  • Three-Buck-Chuck Mer­lot is just fine when that’s all you got handy.
  • CSI trilo­gies are intensely creep­ily good at reveal­ing that some peo­ple in the world are real sickos.
  • Some peo­ple out there are even worse pro­cras­ti­na­tors than I am.
  • My hus­band is still good at putting one over on me, though I’m still good at find­ing out pre­ma­turely that he’s done so.

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