Don’t think about it, just give the first answer that pops into your head: Who’s your favorite glassblower?
Yes, of all time. No, you can’t name your top five. Your very favorite. The glassblower for whom you would forsake all others. Your desert island glassblower. (One thing desert islands have plenty of is sand.)
Well, people who actually do consider such things — and we’re not mocking them, nor the noble, if underappreciated, art of glassblowing — say that Lino Tagliapietra is as good as anyone alive, and as good as anybody ever got. “Lino Taglipietra in Retrospect: A Modern Renaissance in Glass,” organized by the Tacoma, Wash., Museum of Glass, and now on view at the Smithsonian American Art Museum’s Renwick Gallery, is the first exhibit to consider every phase of this now 74-year-old master’s long career. There are 140 pieces featured, some of which have never been shown publicly.
Taglipietra’s curved, textured abstractions are striking even if you know nothing about them or their maker. But Tagliapietra is revered for more than just his chops: He’s kind of like the Bruce Lee of glassblowing, in that he mastered an ancient and closely-guarded set of skills, then brought them from his native land — the Venetian island of Murano; the epicenter of Venetian glassmaking since the 13th century — to America. As a teacher at the Pilchuck Glass School just north of Seattle, he shared these secrets with those who possessed the patience and dedication to learn from him. (Given that Tagliapetra spoke no English when first he came to Seattle in 1979, a lot of patience and dedication must have been required.)
Taliapetra’s largesse with his hard-won knowledge was not without controversy: He replaced his brother-in-law, Checco Ongaro, another glassmaking maestro from Murano, at Pilchuck, after Ongaro grew uncomfortable teaching techniques that for centuries had been proprietary. But Taliapietra believed the craft would eventually be lost if its dissemination was confined to tiny Murano. Unfazed by his peers’ pleas for secrecy, he continued to teach at Pilchuck each summer, eventually sharing his knowledge around the globe.
Teaching led him to many notable collaborations. A.D. Copier, a glass artist from Holland, was particularly influential, urging Taglipietra to think of himself at least as much an artist as a craftstman. By the mid-1980s, Taglipietra had come to see the discipline he’d begun studying four decades earlier as a medium for individual expression. He embarked upon a career in studio art, creating vessels and sculptures that oozed modernity despite the centuries-old processes he used to make them. By the 1990s, he was designing and executing his own original work exclusively. (Designing the pieces and rendering them in glass have traditionally been separate jobs for separate people.)
Taglipetra’s newfound freedom led him to some unexpected places. Consider, for example, Renwick’s display of four pieces from his “Batman” series, inspired by that same Dark Knight who rang up more than half a billion dollars in box office receipts at the movies this summer. (More proof that glassblowing is mainstream-ier than you knew.) Writing on his Web site, Tagliapetra reveals that he wanted his brightly colored variations on the Caped Crusader’s iconic bat emblem to be “resplendent on their own, yet when lit, (to) cast shadows.”
This exhibit brings his mastery of a once-shadowy art from to resplendent light.
If you go
“Lino Tagliapietra in Retrospect: A Modern Renaissance in Glass”: Master glass blower and studio glass pioneer Lino Tagliapietra gets his first thorough career overview exhibition.
Where: Through Jan. 11, 2009
When: Renwick Gallery, 17th Street and Pennsylvania Ave. NW
Info: Free; 202-633-7970; www.americanart.si.edu
