HISTORY OF A GLASSMASTER.
Clown on bicycle
Clown on the Moon
Moon fish with fishes
Moon fish with fishes small size
Moon fish with squid
Aquarium with jellyfish and seahorse
Glass aquarium with fish and jellyfish
I decided to collect some photos of my objects and some steps of my work,
just as, each of us, collects in a family photo album, the most beautiful photos
of my own loved ones and the pictures recording most happy times of our lives.
This is not vanity, it is love for the fascinating material called GLASS,
generated by the fire that melts sand and lime and extracts color from oxides;
itas my daily bread, not only the bread I bring home to my family but the
tangible expression of my desires, my aspirations and my creative skills.
GLASS has always been and continues to be what I gather up every morning
with my blowpipe, which I shape, sculpt and invent and return to the fire to
regenerate, to give strength and color to the material, and to allow me to
dominate it so that it even becomes the art of myself.
GLASS is the unrivaled Master of my life, the despot that forces me, its happy
slave, to fulfill my destiny before the fire that consumes but materializes my
fantasies and my skills, requiring a perfect, direct, and active synchronization.
I grew up in the tough school of an unrivaled glass master, Alfredo Barbini, who
was quick to mock my desire to learn and to make; he would strike my
blowpipe to destroy what I was creating, as if to say: "Forge ahead young man,
this is a taste of the incomprehension, the hurdles that await you in the future,
consider the fragility of your creation which can be lost in an instant.
Persevere, young man, because if you are stubborn, determined and steadfast
you will be successful in achieving your desires, the sense of form and color
which I see inside you and which I hope you will be able to perfect."
I did pursue this goal: now others call me Maestro but inside I know how much I
still have to learn. In any case I am proud to be a Glass Master, a title which
eight centuries ago, Venice considered equivalent to the nobility of the
patricians. For a Maestro, there was the nobility of art, for the patricians, the
nobility of blood.
The Glass Master cannot turn back: his work remains indomitable, he has no
margin for error.
I have found my lifeas purpose in this search for perfection.
Now my name is a name written on fire, and remains indelible no matter what
is said or written.