A Quest: Part II

As I mentioned in an earlier blog post, there was a second place that was a "must see" while I was in Murano.

It was the studio of Pino Signoretto, an Italian Master of glass. Mostly known for his intricate glass sculptures, Pino is often commissioned to do custom work.


This is the story of Pino's Studio:

As I left the home of Dino Tedeschi, with my new Jacks in hand, I set out for Pino's Studio. I just wanted to see it, but hoped for a tour. That alone would have been memorable.

(This was much easier to find, as I had passed it twice while searching for Dino's)

As I stood outside the iron gates, I could see through the courtyard, and into his studio. A few people were milling about, but I wasn't certain if one of them was Pino (this was in July, and it was possible that he was in the US, teaching a class).

I rang the doorbell.

Everyone inside stopped what they were doing, and looked out, over the courtyard at me.

Soon after, a young woman arrived at the gate. She was American (hooray!). Her name was Amber, and she was Pino's Assistant.


I introducted myself, and asked if it would be possible to get a tour of Pino's studio. She was friendly and welcoming, and said that they were done working for the day, and if I returned the next day, I could watch him work.

um.......what?

Sure thing. "I'll be back", I said, calmly.

I returned to the Villa in Venice, broke the news to my cousins that I would be unable to accompany them to the mainland the next day, as I had "better plans." And they agreed.....my plans were much, much better.

The next day, I arrive at Pino's, and I'm met, once again by Amber. She bring me inside, introduces me to some of Pino's assistants, and then introduces me to Pino. His English is not very good, but it's better than Dino's (thankfully). We have a limited conversation about who I am, where I'm from, etc....and we smile, and nod (a lot).

"somebody pinch me", is all I can think


As they prepare to start working, Amber takes me on a tour of the studio and gallery. I'm amazed, to say the least. And still in shock, a bit. I'll be honest. None of this was sinking in.


We return to the Studio, where Pino had started working on a sculpture. He is so skilled, it is awe inspiring. He is working on a small scale, very intricate sculpture. It requires precise movements, excellent control, exact temperature and a quick hand....and makes it look effortless.

Over an hour later, he's finished his sculpture. It is stunning. I ask if I can take a picture of Pino with it, before it gets put into the cooling oven. He agrees.....and stands up, holding the punty rod, with the finished piece attached to the end.

I snap a picture.

He moves to sit back at his work bench (where he is seated in this photo), and as he sits down, he hits the end of the punty rod on the bench, sending a shock wave through the punty rod. The finished sculpture fall to the floor and shatters.

SHATTERS!!!!!

*gasp*

It's not saveable. None of it. It's in a million (or so it seemed) pieces on the floor. The studio is silent, I'm shaking, and Pino just walks away, speechless.

*this was all my fault* is all I can think. Great. Just great. Now what do I do? Run away? Change my name? Cry?

Amber looks at me, sees the fear in my eyes, and tells me it's okay. I apologize profusely.

The next 20 minutes or so are just a blur......I think I've blacked it out of my memory. I decide that I've done enough damage for the day, and should head back to Venice. She takes me outside so I can say good-bye and thank you (and of course, "I'm sorry") to Pino.

I apologize again........he looks at me, shrugs his shoulders and says "eets ok. Eet happenz".

I say "I know. It happens to me a lot." And he laughs.

*phew*

Then......

He invites me to an Opening for a commissioned piece that night in Venice.

*clearly, he doesn't hate me, not even a little*

I meet up with Pino, Amber and a few others later that night for the Gallery Opening. It was pretty darn cool.

A few hours later, and a few glasses of wine later, I found myself sitting outside a cafe, with a handful of people (Pino, Amber, and others) drinking wine and listening to them share stories and jokes. Lots of jokes. I tried out some of my Italian (that I learned from a 365 "learn Italian" calendar.... not what I would recommend.) They laughed.

So, there I was, drinking wine and laughing with Pino.......and 24 hours earlier, I had hoped to get a tour of his studio. Just a tour. And 8 hours earlier, I was watching the remains of a demolished sculpture be swept into the trash.

Crazy.

Eight years later, as I retell the story, I still feel like I have to pinch myself. And it's one of the reasons why I pursued Glass. How could I not? In 48 hours, I had experienced more than I could have imagined. The Jacks, the book, the studio, the untimely death of the sculpture, and the opening....it was 100% inspiration.

And I learned that even the best make mistakes, recover from them, and move on to make something else.

What a day.

A Quest

8 years ago, I spent a week in Venice......Tanner Glass was just over a year old, and I was trying to find my place in the Glass world. I knew Venice would provide so much inspiration, but I had no idea how much. There were two places on the island of Murano that I could not miss visiting on this trip.

This is the story of the first place.....the home of Dino Tedeschi.

Dino made glass tools......the best glass tools (in my opinion). To buy them, you had to know someone who knew someone who knew Dino. Or you had to knock on his door. I chose the later option.

Armed with only a sketchbook, and a map (similar to the one pictured) I set out to find him. A daunting task.....as I don't speak Italian, and using a Murano map is about as effective as directions on finding a needle in a haystack.

Based on an address scribbled in my sketchbook, I managed to arrive at the doorstep of a toolmaker, named Dino. Wrong Dino. Through broken English and Italian, he directed me elsewhere.

Those directions landed me on the doorstep of a toolmaker, named Carlo Donna. Not Dino. But, I was getting closer. Carlo Donna was a leading toolmaker, spoke decent English, and knew Dino personally. I explained that I wanted to purchase some Dino jacks (his signature tool), and asked if he could help me.

He called Dino, told him what I was looking for, and gave me explicit directions to his doorstep.

I thanked him profusely, purchased a super sweet set of tweezers, and headed out to find Dino.

(as an aside, Dino speaks about 4 words of English, and I speak about 8 words of Italian. "Andiamo a sciare".......let's go skiing. Not terribley helpful in this situation).

I arrive at another doorstep, ring the bell, and the door is answered by a woman (Dino's wife). She is about 65 years old, little, and speaks no English. She invites me into their kitchen, sits me down at their table, and offers me some tea (I only know this because I said "si", and tea is what I was given).

Dino appears in the doorway, "ciao" is said all around, and he sits next to me and places 3 sets of Jacks on the table.

I picked out the ones I wanted. There was not a lot of talk, but there was a lot of smiling and nodding going on. It is amazing how well you can communicate without speaking. I managed to understand how much they cost......paid him, and was ready to say thank you, and good-bye, fully content with my purchase, and my experience thus far.

Not so fast.

He sits me back down, and places a small, red journal in front of me....and a pen.

*my heart is racing as I tell this part*

I open it, and quickly notice that this is a list of all the people that have sat right where I was sitting. Heavy hitters in the Glass world, from all over the world......had all sat at the same kitchen table, and purchased their Dino jacks. Some shared stories, some shared photos. It was amazing. Artists like Dante Marioni, Sonja Blumdahl, Lino Tagliopietra, and countless others. I was speechless.

And he wanted ME to sign that book? Um, okay.

I wish I could remember what I wrote (aside from my name and state). Regardless, the fact that I became part of that history is something that will stay with me forever.

I left the Tedeschi home, walked around the block, found a bench, sat down, and cried a little, as I was overwhelmed by what had just happenned.

I signed "the book."

It was at that moment, that I knew I was a glassblower.


(My Dino Jacks).



Sadly, Dino passed away a few years later. And his tools have become highly sought after.....




And these aren't for sale.