I was busily working away at a commissioned piece and trying to decide if I was too old to throw myself on the floor to wail and kick like a two-year-old having a tantrum. You see, I had apparently regressed with my soldering skills and, for the life of me, could not figure out where the problem lay (and still can’t!)
Having decided that I’d filled my frustration quota for the day I moved to my workbench to try my hand at something new. Success! Plus an unexpected reconciliation with my solder and iron. And the happy accident? A bit of solder dripped onto the tile and landed in the shape of a little dog’s head. A body, two legs and tail later and I had the perfect companion to my soldered tree. Just a few mosaic glass leaves and grass accents
and all done!
I was 14 years old maybe? Or close enough. And somehow three matching pins came into my possession. I’m assuming they were a gift, but I can’t say for sure. (Memory like a sieve, don’t ya know.)
I never wore them. They stayed in a drawer, in a trinket box. Then the day came to clean out the clutter and some clutter left. But the pins stayed. Every once in a while they’d come to hand and I’d put them back.
Almost 40 years later they became the inspiration for one of the pieces in what I call my ‘Brooch Series’ of glassworks – “Heading for Home.”
It’s good to clean out every once in a while. And some things are worth holding on to. At least, that’s what I’ve learned.
My father was a stubborn man, and he fought the cancer standing up until one day in September, 2008 when he suddenly collapsed and passed away. A few months later, in November, I went into the backyard and found this stubborn rose and I thought, “how appropriate, seeing as Dad planted this rose bush and tended it for so many years.”
I decided to immortalize Papa’s rose in stained glass. I think I’ve inherited some of Dad’s stubbornness, and that’s probably what keeps me going when I’m fighting to lay down even solder lines in the pieces I create today.
I don’t know if Dad can see my work from his park bench in heaven, but I sure hope he knows, that as tough as it got between us, I carry some of him within me, and I am proud to be his daughter.
Lelkessen is the name of my business of creating and selling my original stained glass, mosaics, fused glass, and Saori-style woven pieces. Several people have asked me about Lelkessen and what it means. It’s actually a Hungarian word and the best translation I can give it is “with soul”. And that’s why I picked it. I love it when people “put their soul into it”. There’s the musician who plays I don’t know how many instruments, and develops software — which one is the hobby? Neither I think. And there’s the woman who welcomes teenaged girls into her home, teaching them how to pour out their hearts, hopes and hurts into journals that will accompany them throughout their lives.
These are just some of the people I know who do what they do with soul. And they inspire me to do the same. I truly believe we’ve all been created with a spark of divine inspiration inside of us, which can be expressed in so many incredible ways.
At the very least I hope you’re engaged enough to want to come back and visit again.
Until the next time, I wish you peace.