On the Cover: Gather Glass

The door of the tiny building is already open. We set our bags by the front windows, dotted with glass baubles. Doves, pumpkins, clear cubes with suspended drops of bright blue, all glow in the evening sun. A few strides away stand the ovens from whence they came. Start to finish. Every foot of studio space matters. A class is finishing up, so we are whisked into the adjacent room, a spotless space with the beginnings of eclectic decor (most walls are still empty, except for one that is plastered with local posters). Clear walls expose the glassmaking below. This is where they hold ice cream-making classes, we’re told (!!), so some ice cream tasting may be in store after the photoshoot we’re here for. Armed with that delightful prospect, safety goggles, and our cameras, we head back down and start taking photos.

Our subject: a red cardinal, spun into glowing physical form by instructors Benny and Vinnie. Benny Giguere gives us a demonstration of the process: A red-hot orb of glass is gathered on the pipe. Roll the orb in red frit (ground glass pigment). Stretch its tail, cardinal crest, and beak like pieces of taffy, all the while keeping it hot with dips in the furnace. The bird is finished sooner than you’d expect. But this, it seems, was just a warmup. “This will be the biggest cardinal we’ve ever made,” Benny proclaims, shaping the next glob of molten glass. He has a flair for theatrics, encouraging us to capture the fiery reflections in his sunglasses and miming a peck on the bird’s beak. We all weave in and out of each other’s way – a high stakes dance with fire and glass. He slows the steps down to allow us better angles. Finally, after its whirlwind experience with the paparazzi, our giant cardinal is shuttled away to gradually cool.

We re-enter the ice cream room to do the same. Embedded in the floor by the counter is a glass square big enough for two people to stand on. Vinnie hurries underneath to flip a switch, and below our feet the square becomes a dizzying, multicolored tunnel to infinity. The mirror illusion box was hand built as a Kusama-esque backdrop for glass objects. A mother and child enter and stare at it, mesmerized. We settle at the counter for a treat and watch through the windows. Another glass working class begins, without skipping a beat.

We sit at the sterile white counter and watch streams of vanilla ice cream pour from the spout of a large, metal container. Culinary aficionado Keyla De Hoyos uses a spatula to scoop the ice cream into an industrial sized plastic tin. She turns around, looking at us with a smile, as though we are all in on a secret, “This is my favorite part.” Keyla grabs a spoon, puts it in the current, and quickly hands it to me. “Try this.” It’s like I have just put my mouth on the udder of an ice cream cow. Instantly I am jealous of her job. How much easier would work be if we had access to these tasty treats at all times of day? Probably for the best… a future of larger pant sizes and monstrous dairy demands appears before me. Keyla laughs, “It is hard to not eat the ice cream all day, it’s so damn good.”

The ice cream is a product of Gather Farms in Johnston, RI. A local farm that prioritizes education in art, food, and farming, Gather Farm hosts the glass-making classes that birthed our cardinal, and offers ice cream making classes as well. Between the two, there is the perfect harmony of hot and cold. One can go and watch glass dust form a piece of art in an inferno, and then traipse into the adjoining room to cool down with a cup of ice cream. •