Body Sculptures by Hans Breder, Found at I'M Revolting

Some of the very first mirrors were made from polished obsidian and sometimes bronze or copper. Sizable pieces of highly polished metal were not easy to come by and were reserved for the very rich. The Romans thought to combine the reflective quality of polished metal with the rigidity and clarity of glass, and developed a technique of coating blown glass with molten lead. The reflection, however, was no better than the surface of a lake. By the medieval period, religious superstitions drove mirrors out of the market, and by the time they returned in the 13th century they were still expensive and imperfect.

In the 1600s, the Venetians finally succeeded in making flat glass mirrors coated with a mixture of tin, bronze and gold, lighting up the insides of royal villas with glittering reflections. The feat was nothing short of a masterpiece: the price for a single mirror was comparable to a large naval ship.

Yayoi Kusama, Infinity Mirror Room, 1965, Courtesy Yayoi Kusama

Over the next several centuries mirror-making made a few advances, but it wasn’t until 1885 with the invention of the modern technique known as “silvering” by chemist Justus von Liebig, did mirrors become more widespread. This process of backing sheet glass with a thin layer of silver has been refined and altered over the years, but it is still basically what we have today. Silvering involves a chemical reaction in which the nitrate ions in a silver nitrate solution attach themselves to another ion, leaving just the silver on the glass. This is then coated with protective paint.

CHOOSING YOUR REFLECTION
Today the most economical mirrors are made with aluminum, though the process is still called silvering. Cheaper, but it comes at a price. Silver mirrors reflect warmer red and yellow tones that flatter a person’s complexion, while aluminum mirrors reflect cool blue tones that are less likely to make you feel good about yourself.

Beyond the standard clear mirror, ultra clear mirrors use glass with a reduced iron content to eliminate the slight green tinge, and are great for fur salons and all-white interiors. For absolute clarity, first-surface mirrors have the reflective coating in front of the glass rather than behind it, so there’s no “ghosting” (the slight secondary reflection made on the glass rather than the reflective coating). Since the silvering substance is exposed, these mirrors are rather delicate. First-surface mirrors are used for camera lenses and optical applications, though designers and artists use them too.

Taxi Driver, 1976

Other than a good dose of confidence, the best way to control what you see in the mirror is with tint. Color is layered on the glass before being silvered, producing various effects and moods. Gold is used in restaurants to flatter the clientele, pink and peach mirrors are used in gyms and dressing rooms for flattery with a touch less seduction. Bronze, gray and black mirrors make dramatic architectural statements and more subtle reflections of people. Green mirrors are used for plant display areas, but make people look ill, and deeper blue mirrors are popular in Florida to create the illusion of coolness and water.

The charming scratches and cloudiness of old mirrors comes from deteriorating protective paint and the silver flaking off the glass. It is easy to have a mirror stripped and re-silvered by a professional so long as the glass is in good condition. Likewise, with a bit of nitric acid, a toothbrush and a good pair of goggles, you can strip off some of the protective backing and give a modern, well-silvered mirror the streaks, splatters and fogging of an aging Venetian masterpiece.

FURTHER READING
This Way to Infinity, Harper’s
Mirrors as Medicine, New Yorker
Mirrors, Design Boom
Mirrors: A History by Sabine Melchior-Bonnet and Katharine Jewett, Google Books

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Pipe Models "Meerschaum" ("Sea Foam") and Nylon, 1974-1976

Bauhaus brought the world mass-produced modernism, but it was post-war Finland that was ready to carry the torch. Never having had a tradition of lavishness or luxury materials, Finnish designers embraced the concept of clean lines and truth to materials, and combined it with a naturalist craftsman feel.

Courtesy of Tapio Wirkkala Rut Bryk Foundation (Click on Image to Enlarge)

Tapio was trained as a decorative carver and sculptor, graduating in 1936 from the Institute of Industrial Arts in Helsinki. He was so adept in his art, that he would often carve the molds for his pieces by hand, including the ones made of metal. This unusual level of personal skill ensured that the hand of the designer was evident in the final product, and allowed him more control over the surfaces and textures of each piece than if he were simply handing over a stack of flat sketches to be interpreted by the factory foreman.

"Ultimate Thule" Sculpture, Laminated Birch, 1967

Today, when design consumers think of Tapio Wirkkala we think of elegantly carved wood and sophisticated chunky glass, but for many years his most widely recognized design contributions were the table service for Finnair and the Finlandia Vodka bottle.

Jäänsäro (Iceblock), molded & cut crystal, 230 mm diameter, Produced by Iittala Glassworks 1951-1969, Courtesy of Finnish Glass Museum

The collection for Finnair, particularly the cutlery and the eggcup, were no doubt inspired by Tapio’s time in New York working for Raymond Loewy. This was the era of streamlined, motion-inspired design, and Tapio looked to the innovative form of the jet, particularly the wing, to inform the collection. In addition to accessorizing the heyday of international jet-setting, Tapio designed many, many utilitarian products that do not bear his name: plastic toilet seats, wall sockets, light bulbs, and ketchup bottles. This legacy of careful design paid to everyday objects is perhaps what endears him most to the Finnish people and makes him unique among internationally lauded designers.

Bolle Bottles, 1968, Produced by Venini

As much as he influenced the design of everyday things, Tapio was best known as a glass designer. Among his most memorable collections were Ultima Thule for Littala, a Finnish company, and Bolle for the Italian glass house, Vinini .

First row: "Caravelle Cup", Produced by Stroemfors 1960-1972. Second Row: "Lufthansa Cup", Never Produced.

Ultima Thule was inspired by the Finnish landscape, with vases, glasses and pitchers cast with the look of eternally melting ice. The original molds for the collection were hand carved by Tapio in wood, so that the first pouring of hot dripping glass altered the mold as it ran down the sides, making the distinctive dripping effect.

'Caravelle' Flatware Series, 1960, Designed for Finnair

The Bolle collection makes beautiful use of incalmo, the Italian technique that uses two or more colors for blown glass. Tapio worked very closely with the master glassblowers at Vinini to perfect the colors and blow the glass as thinly as possible.

Whether working with plastic or fine crystal, his own hands or directing a master Murano glassblower, Tappio Wirkkala was dedicated to making art. High-brow or low, sleek or crafty, he always produced something delightful.

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At 16, a late bloomer by some standards, two friends and I admitted we’d never really been drunk. Wanting a quick remedy, my friend had just the fix in his mother’s garage: “Her last boss gave her a case of some French Champagne when she left last year, I think it’s getting pretty old now anyway.” Drinking premier cru champagne from coffee mugs, we spent several hours perusing our favorite periodicals and commenting on the finer aspects of this new favorite beverage. The next morning, the pile of Playboys and empty ’85 Mumm Grand Cordon bottles attested to one simple truth: people should drink more Champagne.

Marilyn Monroe holding a Coupe Glass

Because it’s a perfect compliment to so many foods — from salty to sweet, spicy to mild, salad to dessert, and most anything else, because nothing makes a good time that much better, and because nothing quite raises your spirits like those little bubbles. And Champagne aside, from beautiful Californian sparklers like Roederer and Iron Horse, or the great New Mexico Blanc de Noirs and Blanc de Blancs from Gruét, to the spectacular Crémants of Jura and Loire, there’s no end to the great sparkling wines out there.

DEVIL IN THE BUBBLES

Not knowing the carbonation resulted from yeast eating remaining sugars in the sealed bottle, these defining bubbles were once considered a defect. So much so that early wine makers in Northern France, struggling to figure out how to prevent this strange phenomenon, referred to the strange sparkling wine as “the Devil’s wine.”

This, of course, seems odd today because it’s the bubbles we love so much. How pleasant it is to briefly tune out during some mundane toast while watching them lazily trail up the edges of a flute, or pool up at the top a coupe. And few things so clearly declare a party as that ‘pop’ of a cork.

Niki Lauda after winning the Italian Formula One Grand Prix, 1975, Courtesy of The Age

Nonetheless, while we see these bubbles as a boon rather than a flaw, perhaps unknowingly, there was a kernel of truth in early, “devil’s wine” moniker. Conjecture has long held that the bubbles may get us tipsy quicker. Researchers at the University of Surrey put this to the test, conducting experiments which demonstrated that 5 minutes after drinking, those who had traditional, bubbly Champagne had 54 mg of alcohol in their blood stream as opposed to those who’d drank the same amount of flat Champagne, who had only 39 mg.

CAPTURING

It seems that for delivering and protecting these precious bubbles, stemware is essential. Be it long and elegant flutes showcasing the rise of the bubbles while limiting the surface area to slow the trapped gas’s release, or small saucers arranged in tower, wine cascading from one glass to the next, appropriate stemware is a must.

Pommery

FROM COUPE TO FLUTE, TULIP AND BACK TO COUPE

Although now thought of as myth, early sparkling folklore held that the Champagne coupe was molded on the breast of Marie Antoinette. Upon hearing this ages ago, and at the time familiar with only the ubiquitous Champagne flute, images of Madonna’s Blonde Ambition tour and Gaultier designed cone-bras instantly came to mind. Intrigued, I thus became acquainted with the small curved glass that is the champagne coupe, or champagne saucer.

Synonymous with mid-century, the coupe recently came into vogue again. Perhaps Mad Men is to blame (or to thank) for this development, nonetheless, many purists dismiss these small glasses because they quickly allow the carbonation to dissipate; further, they spill more easily and don’t hold as much (4 to 5 ounces per coupe as opposed to the average 8 ounces for flutes). All the same, there’s something eternally classy about a black tie, a long dress, and these little saucers.

More often than not, the flute is the vessel of choice when serving sparkling wine. There are several advantages to the flute as compared to the coupe. Most striking is the length of the glass, allowing the signature bubbles a leisurely assent. In addition, the narrower bowl and mouth of these glasses result in less surface area, meaning the wine retains its carbonation longer.

Champagne Straight From the Bottle

Yet, the flute still as a couple of drawbacks: while protecting the bubbles, the shape doesn’t truly allow the drinker to appreciate the aromas of the wine. Also frustrating, is the way one has to upend the whole glass to get the last of the wine. The Tulip glass is thus my stemware of choice.

Really, only just a slight variation on the flute, the bowl of Tulip widens a bit near the top of the glass and then narrows again. The advantage to this design allows for a bit more swirling, permitting one to more appreciate the aromas of the wine. While not usually quite as dramatic as the flute, the length of a tulip glass should still be striking. Crystal or traditional blown-glass, the tulip should have the same nucleation bead at the bottom of the glass. This is a small rough point at the bottom of the glass upon which bubbles of trapped gas in the champagne will collect and float upward.

French Antarctica Expeditionist J.B. Charcot (left) enjoys a glass of Mumm with Raymond Rallier du Baty, Antarctica, Bastille Day 1904.

Whether you’re into the style of the coupe, the striking silhouette of the flute, or the class of the tulip, make sure to get at least 6: few things are shabbier than having friends over to celebrate a new promotion, lament a recent firing, or simply to watch Damages and discovering that someone has to drink from your 4 year-old’s sippy cup because, “Well, at least this one is sort of the same size.”

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Image by Nina Lee, 1952, Courtesy of LIFE Magazine

Compared with the sourness of fermentation, the desiccated texture of drying, or the cloyingness of candying, canning altered the flavor and texture of preserved produce only slightly, a technological innovation that turn-of-the-19^th-century society went mad for.

Rogers Canning Co., Milton-Freewater, OR, 1941, Courtesy of The Library of Congress

In basic terms, canning is the heating of food isolated in hermetically sealed containers. The heat deactivates plant enzymes and kills off harmful microbes. Along with a tight seal preventing re-contamination, food properly tucked into a canning jar can be stored at room temperature without spoiling.

1858 was a watershed year for home-canning. Prior to this date, home-canners had to use ‘wax sealers’, which featured glass tops and bottoms sealed together with wax. It sounds quaint, but in practice was time consuming and error prone. And discovering just before dinner that instead of a jar of fresh from the vine tomatoes, you had in fact been storing moldering mush, is a sad error indeed. When the young tinsmith John L. Mason invented the threaded lip and two-piece sealing lid, home-canning became far more foolproof.

Indiana "Farmerettes" at a War Garden Exhibit in Washington, 1918, Courtesy of Shorpy

Mason jars are made with thicker glass than single use commercial jars, allowing them to withstand the boiling temperatures of the canning process without cracking. The sealing compound on the lids creates a barrier impenetrable to microbes, and the screw band holds the lid in place. After boiling to create the seal, pressure form outside on the cooling lids makes a taut indentation. Press down on the lid, and if pops, the jar hasn’t sealed and you know to either give it another shot, or put the jar in the refrigerator and get to eating it quickly.

From Great Aunt May's Cellar, 1967l Courtesy of Leader Jar

Hot on the heels of the success of mason jars, in 1882 Henry William Putnam filed a patent that combined the all-glass construction of ‘wax sealers’ with the gasket seal of mason jars. Called lightning jars, Putnam’s invention kept food from touching metal and had easy to open wire closures. Lightning jars were made for home canning up until the 1960s, and these more beautiful, decorative jars still use the wire clasp today and the aesthetic appeal of all-glass canning jars continue to maintain a strong following.

Canning is a satisfying activity. Making a pile of produce into a neat line of shiny, filled jars can make for a wholesome Sunday afternoon. All sorts of fruits and vegetables can be canned, from oranges and plums, to kale and beets. In the winter months, I prefer my canned tomatoes to the tasteless out-of-season varieties, and I don’t mind the constant task of preserving or jellying the beautiful yellow jewels of my over-active Meyer lemon tree.

Odessa Dow Laboratory, 1923, Courtesy of Shorpy

Produce for canning is minimally processed. Lemon marmalade may need a few extra steps to develop pectin and candy the sugar, but tomatoes need only to be peeled and stuffed into jars. The majority of the work goes into sterilizing and processing the jars. In other words: boiling. You have to boil the glass and the lids before filling them, fish them out of hot boiling water (fix a magnet onto a stick to get the metal lids out, and get your tongs ready for the jars), then boil the filled jars again in a canner to create the all-important seal. Under-processing can result in spoiled food, and over-processing may overcook the vegetables. Pay attention to the recommended boiling times to get it right.

Of course the last thing you want to think about while you dream of canning is botulism, but it is important to be aware of its causes. Clostridium botulinum thrives in low-acid, airless conditions. Like most toxins, it is killed off by boiling. However, the spores are hardy and can survive prolonged boiling and proliferate into active bacteria as the cans cool down. Bulging caused by the pressure of gasses produced by the bacteria is a clear indicator, and those should be thrown out. Boiling the food again after opening will also kill the toxin. The high acid content of most tomatoes and citrus fruit inhibits the growth of the bacteria, but other vegetables with pH of 5 or 6 should be processed in a pressure canner for 30 to 90 minutes at 240°F to kill any possible spores.

Mason's Canning Jar, Patent Nov. 30th, 1858

FURTHER READING:

Jaime Gross. “‘Urban Homesteaders’ Are Farming in San Francisco”, The New York Times. April 23, 2010.

Food in Jars — A Canning Blog

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Narcisso Glasses, 1958, by Isabel Antonia Giampietro

Like many glassware designers, she is not very well known outside a small circle of collectors. I doubt I would be familiar with her work if she weren’t my great aunt. We are an artistic family; Isabel’s brother, my grandfather Alexander Giampietro, was a sculptor and art professor at Catholic University in Washington, D.C. My mother is a jeweler and many of my cousins are artists and designers themselves.

Isabel holding her sculpture, "Impressies van Stockholm", circa 1956. Image by Aalt Verbaan

I first met Isabel about ten years ago when I was studying design in New York. Although over 80, she was very independent and living alone in Manhattan. Entering her tiny apartment was like walking into a well-curated and creatively cluttered gallery. Everything — from the dishes she served pastries on to the sculptures and glassware that lined her walls — had a story. She surrounded herself with her art: antique carvings and a beautiful and delicate sculptural portrait of her son as boy. I was struck by her sophisticated appearance. She wore dark lipstick and dramatic hats, managing to look elegant throughout her life.

Glass Drawing, 1956

Isabel was born in 1917  to Matilde and Giuseppe Giampietro.  They lived in the small town of Marsicovetere in the Potenza province of Southern Italy. In 1928, Isabel immigrated to Brooklyn with her mother, brother Alexander and sister Concetta. Like many other Italian immigrants, they followed the patriarch, in this case Giuseppe, who settled in New York. Keeping with the creative tradition, Giuseppe and his brothers were traveling musicians. In high school, Isabel’s innate creativity was apparent as she often dreamed about designing and sewing her own clothes Isabel received her undergraduate degree from Manhattanville College in 1940. She later returned to Italy where she pursued a master’s degree in sculpture at the University of Fine Arts, Rome.

During the 1950s, Isabel worked as a glassware designer in Northern Europe where she designed for such notable firms as Royal Leerdam in Holland and Gullaskufs Glassware in Sweden. She received a certificate in glass design from Konstfack, University College of Art and Design in Sweden.

Catalog of Royal Leerdam, 1960

Riflesso Glass Line, 1960

Her most famous work is probably the Riflesso line of crystal glassware she designed for Royal Leerdam which won the Gran Prix at the Brussels Exposition in 1958. Riflesso is Italian for reflection. The line featured an array of drink-ware including champagne, wine, martini and liqueur glasses. Also part of the line is a unique punchbowl and decanter. Of the collection she would say, “[It was] an excuse to show the tension, fragility, transparency and strength possible of crystal.”

While she never labeled herself a modernist, her work reflects a simplicity and sophistication that were hallmarks of modern decorative arts. She plainly resisted the idea of any aesthetic dogma, instead articulating, “I was interested in the process of how crystal was made, not just the design”.

Isabel’s work was certainly recognized and appreciated during her life but she also expressed frustration at being unable to fully support herself solely with her art. In 1978, she received a National Endowment for the Arts fellowship in design. Then in 1984, her work was on display at Alan Moss gallery in New York, by which time it was already collectible. The National Glass Museum in Holland has a large collection of her glass, and the Hanneke Fokkelman gallery, also in Holland, had a retrospective of Isabel’s work in 2007. In the United States her work is part of the permanent collection of the Corning Glass Museum.

She is survived by her son Andrew Knoll and granddaughter Dakota Brewster, as well as our large extended family. She will be remembered as a vibrant woman and an inspiring artist and designer.

FURTHER READING:

The National Glass Museum’s extensive collection of Isabel’s glassware

Regina Lee Blaszczyk. Imagining Consumers: Design and Innovation from Wedgwood to Corning. 2002. The John Hopkins University Press.

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Borosilicate Glass Beaker

Boron is the magic ingredient that makes borosilicate glass so exceptionally strong. It handles extreme temperature ranges (thermal insulation tiles on the Space Shuttle are coated with a borosilicate), and is chemically resistant — even to nuclear waste!  Needless to say, borosilicate glass is the standard for laboratory use.

Boron / Photo by Images of Elements

All these qualities make borosilicate glass a perfect material for many kitchen utensils, both for its durability and visual appeal. It can be made almost impossibly thin. It feels so fragile in your hands that you distrust the science. See for example the Chemex Coffeemaker.

Unfortunately, Pyrex, once synonymous with borosilicate glass, switched from borosilicate to soda-lime glass in the 1950s, with the majority of the U.S. kitchen industry following suit in the 1980s. Soda-lime glass is the most commonly used and least expensive form of glass. Another sad story in which the quest for lower prices led to the sacrifice of quality. Ironically, the European manufacturer of Pyrex, Arc International in France, still uses borosilicate glass in their Pyrex kitchen products today. So in order to get the original quality of an American icon, you have to buy it in France.

Since soda-lime glass extends more when subjected to heat, breakage of the glass is more likely. Pyrex’s answer to all this: “The Cookware Manufacturers Association considers soda lime an appropriate material for glass bakeware.” Of course, borosilicate glass also breaks under extreme conditions. But thanks to its singular quality, it is much more likely to crack or snap rather than shatter, making injuries less likely.

Today, you can still buy a good amount of borosilicate glassware for the kitchen (many manufacturers actually buy the glass in sheets from Schott).

Pyrex Glass Cooker 1943 / Photo by Sharpy.com

Pyrex Coffee Percolator from the 1950s

Inside The Percolator

Otto Schott in 1890

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Peter J. Schlumbohm, Ph.D, moved to New York City in the mid-1930s and was desperately searching for a great cup of coffee amid the city’s stale automats and late night diners.

Peter Schlumbohm (Check Out his Cigarette Holder) / LIFE Magazine 1949

Finally — fed up — he decided to construct his own coffeemaker with the tools on hand. In his case, laboratory tools. The result, 50 years later, is still winning design awards (it’s also part of the MOMA permanent collection), and brewing an excellent cup of joe.

I have had the pleasure of owning two Chemex. My first, the classic Chemex coffee maker — with the wood holding ring and leather cord — was one of my favorite breakfast fetishes, a hippie classic and a combo of all the things I love — the clean lines of the beaker glass, the earthy wood, the worn leather cording… and the hot, delicious coffee on a foggy LA morn.

I dropped it and broke it, which is something I tend to do, so my next Chemex, although still beautiful, is of the glass handle/contemporary model, a better way to brew for a klutz like myself. Thank you Dr. Schlumbohm!

Photo is Courtesy of The Hagley Museum and Library

Chemex Patent 1947

FURTHER READING:

Article in TIME MAGAZINE from 1946, article in LIFE MAGAZINE from 1949, article in THE NEW YORKER from 1954.

The LIFE Magazine image found at Google Books.

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