stained glass

Order And Chaos by Sasha Ward

Towards Order 740 x 740 mm

I made the big, square panel above recently. It combines one of my melted pieces of slab glass with a lovely piece of old window glass. The small bubbles and wobbles in the large clear section don’t show up in the photo, likewise many of the textures in the coloured glass surrounding it. Handling a big glass panel with the hole I had cut in it was tricky, so was inserting the central piece of glass (with a lead wrapped around it) into the hole. The front is very neat, so is the back but it is copper foiled.

Left, tracing paper removed giving a better idea of the textures in the glass. Right, detail of the top section.

Left, colour selection from my scrap box. Right, on the light box, cutting the scraps to a plan.

The design followed on from the shapes of the glass scraps I chose for the border, with colours getting darker towards the edges and harmonising rather than jarring with each other. At one stage, I was going to paint in a loose style over these border pieces, but then my desire for order got the upper hand and I made a plan (below) that returned the composition to a geometric framework, with straight lines and right angles.

The painting and sandblasting plan.

As I planned the painting stage, I tested each type of glass I had used in the composition by firing it in the kiln with splashes of enamel, oxide and silver stain. The pieces looked great all together, so I spent a happy evening leading the sample pieces together (below) in a panel that returns the glass scraps to a jumble of chaos.

Towards Chaos 300 x 240 mm

Tree patterns by Sasha Ward

Combination Trees 350 x 350 mm.

As you can probably tell, I made the panel above by leading together glass pieces from two different styles of work, both based on trees. I happened to have the two painted pieces of glass shown below in a pile on my work bench and had a feeling they would go together well. The finished panel also uses other pieces of glass from the same two series as I fitted the two patterns together in the best and most treelike way.

Tree patterns, left from the Theme and Variations series 2020, right sample from front door window 2023.

The original background tree pattern, the tops of four windows for a private house, 2018.

The coloured tree pattern is one I invented to show a woodland scene (I don’t think I stole it from anywhere) for a commission that I never got a great photo of, the one above was taken in my studio window before installing it. I then made a series of panels that were deliberately a cross between a design and a colour sample (below). Three years later I made the black and white trees pieces as samples for a front door commission where I tried out different blacks and greys as well as different methods for making the foliage patterns.

Theme and variations 2020

Some of the samples for a black and white front door commission 2023.

With my leftover pieces I made a second and opposite combination panel (below) where the coloured pieces float across the black and white sample like patches of light in a woodland scene. I’m able to chop these pieces up into complex shapes and then lead them together because it is the right type of glass - i.e. 2 to 4 mm thick whereas most of my work from the past thirty or so years has been made of glass at least 6mm thick and often toughened or laminated, as are many of my samples. These are not commissioned pieces and it’s a wonderful novelty for me not to have to get a beautifully drawn design agreed by a client before starting the making stage. The downside of this spontaneous way of working is that I don’t see mistakes (in the design) until the glass is cut, leaded and soldered so I have to pull the panel apart and change things, aiming for the sort of perfection that happens very occasionally.

The Opposite Combination 375 x 360 mm.

Woman in an Opera Dress at a Prison Camp by Sasha Ward

Left, Ray Ward’s painting, egg tempera and indian ink on gesso. Right, my stained glass interpretation of Woman in an Opera Dress at a Prison Camp, 420 x 360 mm.

This is the latest in my series of so called collaborations with Ray, made as a request by one of his collectors who missed out on buying the original black and white painting (above left). Sometimes Ray’s characters are adapted from visual sources, like a snapshot, but this one comes from a story told in her memoirs by Evgenia Ginzburg who served an 18 year sentence in labour camps at the eastern edge of the Soviet Union. Here she met women who arrived at the camp in their tattered finery because they had been arrested while at the opera. This was a great choice of painting to interpret as it is covered in lines and textures, with the dress and her flesh that is visible through it seemingly the focus of the piece.

Although I trace directly from a photocopy of Ray’s work, I have to do the lines in a completely different way - too many black lines on coloured glass would look like a load of dirty scribbles. Instead for the dress I chose two shades of streaky pink flashed glass and sandblasted the colour off to make fine white lines. You can see in the photo of the dress detail above how deep I had to go to get to the white, creating a texture that looks pleated and scruffy, as I imagine the original dress was. I covered the background in fine sandblasted lines and smoky paintwork too, with the only bit of sgraffito scribble on the ground behind the figure. All this talk of detail makes me think I should concentrate less on the technique and more on the subject matter.

Choosing the glass, painted pieces on the lightbox.

Evgenia Ginzburg survived her ordeal in the gulag, as did my mother’s cousins. She met them for the first time when we went to visit the family in Gus-Khrulstany in the year 2000, a photograph (below) marks the happy occasion The two cousins are in the back row in the centre of the photo, I can see that I could have used either of their faces for the portrait of the woman. Next to them sits my mother Elizabeth (wearing glasses) with me in the right foreground.

In the 1990s Anastasia, the granddaughter of my mother’s cousin Natasha and therefore my second cousin once removed, brought the branch of the family that had stayed in Russia into contact with the branch of the family that had gone to England at the Revolution. She is in the centre of the photo above and on the left below with her parents and grandmother Natasha. We have a wealth of family stories, diaries and photographs from the pre revolutionary period, then a big gap except for one story from the late 1920s or 30s. My great aunt Lena travelled to Gus in an attempt to bring little orphaned Natasha back to England with her, but the grandfather wouldn’t let her go. As Natasha recounted the familiar story to us she said, ‘think how different my life would have been then.’

Church Camping by Sasha Ward

Inside St Cuthbert’s church, Holmes Lacy, Herefordshire.

Church camping, otherwise known as champing, is an initiative by The Churches Conservation Trust where you can book to stay in one of the churches that they care for. We chose to champ in St. Cuthbert’s, Holme Lacy, in a bend on the river Wye near Hereford, a large church with magnificent marble monuments and a notable window by Henry Payne. You can see our sitting room above, half way along the south aisle, and our bedroom in the north aisle in front of a wooden screen and with a great view of the monuments and the aforementioned notable window.

Left: Monument to James Scudamore who died in 1668. Right: Tomb of Sibell and John Scudamore who died in 1571 with Henry Payne window in the background.

You’re not supposed to drag the camp beds around the church, otherwise I would have been tempted to sleep in the chancel with the Scudamores (above). It was fascinating to see these monuments and windows over a whole night and day as the light moved around the space which was light enough in the daytime (with no artificial lighting) and perfectly dark at night. We went to sleep and woke up discussing the mysterious Payne window (below), which shows the Archangel Michael with the scales of judgement, weighing souls.

East window by Henry Payne c.1920 and detail of right hand panel.

Detail of the Henry Payne window showing the weighing of souls.

There are some gorgeous details, particularly the tiny figures in the scales and in the angel’s drapery (above), but the design of the window is confusing. The angels seem to be jostling unnecessarily for space, with great big overlapping wings and behind, rising feet and heads popping up in unexpected places. The main problem is how dark the window appeared, there is a whole bank of trees in the churchyard outside blocking the early morning light.

In the north wall between our bedroom and the chancel is a great example of a medieval fragment window (below). Here you can also find gorgeous details, with heads and hands appearing unexpectedly. As we sat on our chairs in the evening with the light fading all around us, this one still glowed - its patchwork of colours and painted details perfectly illuminated as the stained glass windows along the east and south walls lost their colour to the darkness.

North chancel window made of fragments of medieval glass and detail.

John Hayward in Wiltshire by Sasha Ward

The Vision of St Hubert 1966. St Mary, Chilton Foliat, Wiltshire, and detail.

Windows designed and made byJohn Hayward are easy to identify just from their style, with distinctive figures, crisp shading and criss crossing leads. Of the three in Wiltshire churches the one in Chilton Foliat from 1966 (above) is the earliest, although to me his work always looks as if it is rooted in the 1950s. It illustrates the story of St Hubert, with a fine stag in the centre where a crucifix hangs between his antlers and the shadowy figures of hunters pass by on a pale blue background.

Mary and Child 1985. St Mary, Collingbourne Kingston, Wiltshire, and detail.

Similarly, the John Hayward window at Collingbourne Kingston (above and below) looks great in its setting, letting in plenty of north light and full of wonderful painted sections and convincing figures. However, it is all a bit of a jumble and, unable to make sense of the imagery (did they once make gloves in Collingbourne Kingston?) I went back to read the blurb in the church leaflet. The window was commissioned in memory of Richard and Marguerita Wilson by their son. Not only do we have their initials and an inscription to them in the design, we also have St Mary holding the church on top of a map of the parish, the Annunciation, the sacraments of Eucharist. Baptism, Ordination and Confirmation all with their own symbols. There’s definitely too much going on here.

St Mary, Collingbourne Kingston. John Hayward window in north choir, detail from the window.

A few years later Hayward made an Annunciation window for Christ Church, Swindon (below), its form is very like the top section of the Collingbourne window. But this one, in a muted golden colour palette, fills the whole of the two lights, with architectural details and folded curtains making a dynamic setting for the beautifully painted figures.

The Annunciation 1987. Christ Church, Swindon, Wiltshire, and detail.

The Church and The Arts 1967. St Peter and Paul, Checkendon, Oxfordshire

Hayward’s window at Checkenden, Oxfordshire (above) is a window in the same vein. Here the background curtain behind the three figures that symbolise writing, painting and music lifts to reveal the virgin and child. The composition is calm and balanced, the colours subtle and harmonious.

It’s not the date they were made, the subject matter used, nor their position with attendant light conditions in the church that has caused the similarities between these two last examples that are simpler than any other Hayward windows I have seen, and all the better for it.

Interior of St Peter and Paul, Checkendon, and detail from John Hayward window.