MURANO GLASS AND I
"Venice stands still in a Renaissance Time warp. I plunge into the past, marveling that there is no traffic, and as the next millenium approaches with the din and cacophony of new technologies, here people still move silently, traversing narrow cobbled lanes and little bridges on foot. It is beautiful beyond belief. The boat takes us to Murano each morning and behind the ancient walls the venerable Glass Works of Gino Cenedese exude a convent-like atmosphere, a gentle ambience. Skirting the medieval well in the courtyard, I enter the studio of Antonio Da Ros with a sense of awe. Here is an artist of the old school, innocent of airplanes, with a life-time of work behind him done in the manner of his forefathers. The professore as everyone lovingly calls him, is Cenedese's link with it's continuing glory. If they have progressed to more commercial times where American tycoons sit in the upstairs showroom ordering billions worth of chandeliers to be shipped to Texas, the prof seems untouched by it. We work with great intensity in the quiet confines of his studio, flanked by racks of shimmering glass and plaster models dating back to the fifties. Somewhere in the distance I can hear an aria from Aida. We are both ecstatic; the prof so happy to be doing something new, his old eyes shine with excitement. It is difficult to explain what a Lingam is and he seems baffled that in a strange land far away it should be an object that is reverred! Ganesh he has already understood...Down in the furnaces it is another story. Burly helpers stripped down to their banyans to withstand the terrible heat, juggle the molten glass with consummate ease and skill, bellowing to each other, whistling and singing loud songs which I suspect are somewhat raunchy. The maestri work through it all with intense absorption. They follow my fibreglass models with great accuracy and laugh uproariously when I try my hand at the furnace. I am surprised at the sheer weight of the crystal at the end of the rod and realize how clumsy my attempts are. I learn very fact that split second timing is of the essence. If it goes a little bit wrong they dump the whole mess on the floor quite cheerfully and start again. The flowing glass lava is sensuously beautiful, the jewel like hues so gorgeous that it is very hard to exercise restraint, to limit each piece to the pre-chosen colours, not to go recklessly overboard. We plan the next pieces while we wait for the previous day's work to cool in the cooling furnaces. Meanwhile we are plied with food and wine. In Italy it is always food, glorious food. The moment of truth arrives days later when our work is retrieved from the cooling chamber and I can cradle it in my hands... The euphoria is unbelievable but two of the pieces have shattered inexplicably.
Gayatri is beautiful, young and gentle but her surprisingly strong presence is very re-assuring. We make many trips to Venice over two years, becoming friends, oblivious of the fact that two generations separate us. She grapples with the logistics like a new millennium woman, while I am allowed to be thoroughly retro, soaring on a creative high. I am grateful to her for making possible the most treasured of my digressions and forays into new avenues. I hope that in showing these "Indo-Venetian" pieces I can share a modicum of the joy I experienced in making them."