There’s a certain magic in stained glass that I always return to—how light and shadow dance across a surface, how color is suspended in silence. My latest piece, titled “Celestial Passage,” was born from that sense of stillness meeting movement. It’s about the space between things—the pause, the threshold, the moment before a shift.
Inspiration
“Celestial Passage” was inspired by a recurring dream I had last winter—walking through a cathedral with no roof, where the stars became the ceiling. The geometry of the arches remained intact, but above, there was only the night sky. That vision stuck with me: the contrast between architectural structure and cosmic openness.
I began sketching versions of this scene, not literally, but as an abstracted interpretation. I was drawn to angular forms—arches, doorways, stars, and layered planes of color. The piece became a meditation on movement through space: portals, time, memory.
The Process
I started by selecting a palette grounded in deep blues, antique purples, and iridescent whites, with accents of amber and gold. Each glass piece was hand-cut and treated to emphasize its textural contrast: smooth next to rippled, translucent against opaque. I incorporated kiln-fired painting to add a celestial motif—tiny points that mirror constellations—scattered gently across several panels.
The lead lines were a dance in themselves, curving where needed but always returning to a kind of quiet symmetry. The final soldering felt like sealing a spell.
Installation & Light
One of the joys of stained glass is how it changes throughout the day. In morning light, “Celestial Passage” is soft and quiet, almost meditative. By afternoon, it ignites with warmth, casting amber shadows. At night, under artificial light, the cooler tones rise again, and the whole piece hums like a quiet song.
It was installed in a private studio space in Brooklyn—facing east, where it captures the rising sun.
Reflection
Working on this piece reminded me that stained glass isn’t just about color or craftsmanship—it’s about time. Each panel carries hours of cutting, refining, waiting. And then, when it’s complete, it waits for light. Without it, the glass rests in silence. But with it, it lives.
Thank you for stepping behind the glass with me.
