There it hung, with sky for background. Saturn. With its green orb and ruby red ring. Dark clouds lumbering by behind, with patches of sunshine brightening things momentarily. Then back to grey. And Saturn changed colors and feel at the whim of the clouds and breezes. The wire that she hung on was most sturdily fastened to the very edge of roof over my lanai, so as I sat under cover in the drizzle I could just see the drops striking those ruby lips. And accumulating, until they rolled off the edge. I hoped Lino would be proud. I wondered how many of his Saturns were hung out in the elements, as those that weren’t considered seconds were quite pricey, more than I would ever afford. But I remember the first time I saw her. It was on a shelf in the back back room of a Seattle gallery that specialized in glass artists. I was cruising through with the owner one day and spied the piece. It was really beautiful though quite dusty. Obviously been there awhile. The ring was just a bit larger than a big dinner plate and the sphere in the center about the size of a cantaloupe. Much smaller than the later ones in the series. More colorful as well. There was one tiny little glitch in the glass. Not a problem for me, but obviously enough so that Lino wouldn’t sign it. Too bad. Having it signed by Lino Tagliapietra, considered by many to be the best living glassblower, would be nice for the value it would add to the piece. But I don’t really care. Nobody that knows glass art would doubt who made it  and I certainly know who made it. I’ve really enjoyed looking at her for years hanging in the window of my Seattle home facing west so sunsets would pass through in the evenings. That is after I finally got it off the living room floor where it spent the first few years until I gained the knowledge and confidence to decide the best way to hang it. Then, very carefully double boxed and delivered with much more glass art to my new home in Maui. And, they all made it. I do remember shortly after I bought the piece I mentioned to the gallery owner that the next time Lino was visiting Seattle from his home in Murano I’d get him to sign it. The owner was adamant that I not do that. So I didn’t. But I’ve always wondered what that was all about and if he was really supposed to sell it to me.

I was forged in fire so hot it hurt to get near me. The hands that made me were skilled from many years of apprenticeship and servitude which was given the chance to blossom into incredible creativity. Hands that were stigmatized, then later redeemed, for sharing the secrets of Murano glassblowing with the students of the Pilchuck Glass School an hour north of Seattle. Nobody had ever shared these long held secrets with the outside world. What an honor to be birthed from the furnace of he who is called Maestro by his peers. Over the years more respected, more able to bridge the gap between Murano and Seattle, so finally some of those peers also came to teach at Pilchuck. But the one who made me took the art and craft of making things from glass in many new directions. Creating things never conceived before. But certainly copied since. Though none has reached the pinnacle my maker has. The grand experiment of my unfolding was a brilliant idea for a whole new style of glass creations in a series known as Saturns. But alas, as one of the first I did not achieve the perfection of form that my later brothers and sisters did. But I’m proud of my one small flaw. It shows my humanity. And also let someone that really loves and cares about me be my owner instead of someone that might’ve just stuck me on a shelf, though a custom made one, and never let the sun shine through me and the wind blow over me and the raindrops land on me. I like it here in the Maui breezes. I hope I get to stay.