There's glass in these mountains
It often takes a team: Tadayoshi Littleton assists Kevin Doernen while hearth apprentice Conner Lujan watches and waits. Photo by Loam Marketing
No one imagined a furnace and a vision would transform a quiet, rural Western North Carolina mountain community into a world-renowned mecca for studio glass. All it took was an initial spark and a community, eager to fan the flame.
The furnace was conceived in the early 1960s by Harvey Littleton, a University of Wisconsin art professor who believed glass could be made beyond the confines of traditional production factories. When then Penland School of Craft Director Bill Brown saw Littleton’s working model at a conference, he knew the burgeoning craft school, located about an hour north of Asheville, had to have one. Thanks to Bill Boysen, one of Littleton’s students, Penland’s first furnace was built in 1965. Studio glass classes followed.
The colorful history, intertwined as it is with countless individual artist stories, of which there are far too many to share in a single article, is etched in glass.
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There's glass in these mountains
One of Rob Levin’s glass versions of “still life.”
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There's glass in these mountains
One of Rob Levin’s glass versions of “still life.”
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A few of the region's long-time makers
Not only are Billy and Katie Bernstein part of the movement’s richly hued history; they remain a part of its continued evolution. Both came to Penland to be part of the school’s thriving resident artist program. Katie’s residency was in the well-established ceramics program. Billy was just the second glass resident to wield the blow pipe.
Sitting on a farmhouse porch on the campus one day, Billy, along with fellow glass artists Mark Peiser and Fritz Dreisbach, pondered the potential benefits of getting other glass artists together. “We thought about all the things that Penland offered that might attract people,” Bernstein remembers. “Fritz put the poster together and the Glass Art Society, with its first meeting held at Penland in ’71, was born.”
While Katie was content with her work as a ceramic artist, Harvey Littleton, who had become known as the father of the studio glass movement, had other ideas. Drawn to Penland and the creative momentum that was building, he constructed a home and studio in nearby Spruce Pine following his retirement. He asked Katie to bring a few work samples to his studio. “He had my work cast in glass and told me that’s what I should be doing,” she remembers. “Then he showed me how to make the molds.”
In the 80s, the couple began collaborating. “Billy made the forms, and I did the cane drawings,” Katie notes. Glass became both a colorful canvas and the journal where they illustrated their daily lives. The couple’s collective and individual work has been exhibited and collected around the world.
Like Katie, Rob Levin started out in clay. He was taking his first class at Penland in 1971 when he saw people blowing glass. “Someone let me try it and I was fascinated,” he says. The next year he returned to take a glass class, ultimately becoming an instructor before staying on as a resident artist.
He was in his residency when Harvey Littleton moved to Spruce Pine. “Harvey was incredibly generous with his facilities,” Levin says. “He was one of the first to have a coldworking setup that included grinding and polishing equipment.”
Prior to Harvey’s arrival, it was common for glass artists to create pieces that didn’t need to be ground. “Once he got here, he invited us to come out and use his equipment. I took him up on that offer.”
Levin was fascinated by watching Littleton work. “I had never thought about working on such large pieces.
“Being a craftsman is a couple of things,” he adds. “First, you’re always chasing after something in your head and always trying to figure out a better way. The downside is that once you’ve made it, you’re always thinking you can do better. My tendency was to shortchange myself. Harvey taught me not to.”
When Levin was ready to build a studio of his own, Littleton weighed in. “I showed him a pretty little spot on the property that I thought would be great for my studio space. He told me to keep that spot for inspiration before pointing out the least desirable space where the studio should go.” His perspective, Levin believes, was invaluable.
More than 50 years have passed since that first class, and Levin remains fascinated by the medium. His goblets and sculptures merge form, function, and fantasy. He has taught and exhibited around the world, ever eager for the experiences and always happy to return to the quiet of the mountains.
“What happened here is pretty unusual,” Levin notes. “There are other places around the country that have glass communities, but most are in urban areas such as Seattle or New Orleans.”
Although surrounded by the studio glass movement thanks to his father, John Littleton didn’t set out to be a glass artist. “My dad was a teacher with very strong opinions,” he offers. “I wanted to do something I knew more about than him.”
He set his sights on photography. Although he traveled from Wisconsin to work part-time as a photographer in his father’s Spruce Pine studio, he emerged as a budding glass artist, establishing a successful partnership with his wife Kate Vogel.
What resonated deeply for Vogel was how John’s father viewed glass as an opportunity to express himself. “While so many were influenced by his work, Harvey supported artists in bringing their unique visions to life,” Vogel says.
The dynamic duo, whose home and studio are in Bakersville, and whose pieces can be found in museums and personal collections around the world, clearly followed his lead. To bring their sophisticated sculptural visions to life, they have learned to use architectural design software and build models. They have taught themselves to weld, and, of course, have learned much through trial and error.
Despite the region’s distinctly rural setting, the couple was struck in those early days by the international ambiance in the senior Littleton’s studio. “I remember when Harvey invited 100 different artists from around the world to do prints on glass, even hiring a master printer to provide assistance,” Vogel says. “There were artists from Italy, and the Czech Republic. Dale Chihuly and his team were here. This area had become one of the country’s most densely populated with glass artists who were making a living creating their work. Harvey didn’t hesitate to invite the glass community to his studio to meet guest artists.”
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There's glass in these mountains
Katherine Zeilman’s glass is front and center at Hearth Glass’ gallery. Photo courtesy of VIsit NC
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There's glass in these mountains
Tadayoshi Littleton “applying a bit.”
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There's glass in these mountains
Keikichi and Tadayoshi Littleton are proud to continue their grandfather’s legacy in glass.
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There's glass in these mountains
Hearth Glass—merging past, present and future
When Keikichi Littleton thinks of her grandfather, Harvey, she remembers him as the man who read her There’s an Alligator Under My Bed. Although she grew up around renowned glass artists and has spent time working at Spruce Pine Batch Co., the glass materials company founded by Harvey and currently owned by her father, Tom Littleton, her interest in the medium wasn’t piqued until a college trip to New York’s Corning Museum. There, standing in front of a series of work entitled “Eight Heads of Harvey Littleton,” created by German Artist Erwin Eisch, she recognized the magnitude of her grandfather’s legacy.
Drawn as she was to the art form, she realized she was more interested in the business aspect of glass. “Because I don’t work directly with glass as a material, I will never have the same perspective as my grandfather, but I understand, just as he did, the importance of being a facilitator for the medium and the glass community-at-large,” says Keikichi, who, along with her brother Tadayoshi, owns and manages Hearth Glass and Gallery in downtown Burnsville.
The idea to open a public access studio had long been on Tom Littleton’s mind. He had, in fact, been collecting equipment for years. His vision was brought to life during a neighborhood quandary about what to do with an unsightly, unused gas station on West Main Street. Keikichi laughed as she heard herself respond that it should be turned into a glass studio. “The region is a hotbed of well-established glassblowers,” she adds. “I thought a glass studio would be a great way to support aspiring artists as well as those who are aging out of managing their own studios.”
“People sometimes have the impression this business is for my brother and me to make our own art or have a career,” she says. “In reality, our goal is to support the growing community. Our artists have access to batch from Spruce Pine Batch Co., access to equipment, and are able to market directly to the community.” Tadayoshi, who manages Heath’s studio, ensures the batch is the highest quality by melting it weekly on-site.
Given the duo’s mindset of inspiring future glass artists, it comes as no surprise that the three-year-old business already has an apprenticeship program. One young apprentice, who had never picked up a pipe until learning at Hearth, is now a paid employee, a source of great pride for the Littleton’s. Like their grandfather, the Littleton’s firmly believe that apprentices should be paid.
Tadayoshi Littleton wears several hats. Not only is he testing the batch for quality before it gets shipped to glass artists around the country, but the talented craftsman also blows his own pieces and makes sure the studio is properly maintained for the artists who rent space there. “I take great pride in catering to our renters, knowing their processes, and having the studio set up in the manner they need,” he says.
The Bernstein’s, whose studio was destroyed during Hurricane Helene, are among Hearth’s current renters. “We knew Keikichi and Tadayoshi’s grandparents,” Billy offers. “Working at Hearth, we’re treated like honored grandparents.” While the couple miss having their studio, they appreciate the freedom that comes from not having to maintain a facility or get up in the middle of the night to check on the furnace or kiln. “They know how we work and have everything set up for us when we get there.”
Visitors are welcome to watch artists work and can also sign up for an introductory class. The gallery side of the facility offers a brief regional glass history as well as shelves lined with a kaleidoscopic array of functional and decorative work-for-sales by Hearth artists.
There's glass in these mountains
Nick Fruin, Penland’s Studio Coordinator, and Courtney Dodd, Penland’s program Manager
Penland keeps fanning the creative flame
Penland School of Craft’s continued influence on not just the local, but national and international glass studio scene is unmistakable. “I went to a conference in Venice,” notes Studio Coordinator Nick Fruin. “Glass artists from around the world know Penland.”
“I never thought I would move somewhere so tiny, but people from all over the world are coming here, learning and sharing what they know,” adds Fruin’s wife Courtney Dodd, Penland’s Program Manager and a glass artist herself. The two met at Penland.
Dodd’s journey is like so many before her—she came as a student, returned as a core fellow, and then realized she was destined to stay. “I realized in being here, it was the first time I ever felt totally at home in a place.”
Fruin, who, like Tadayoshi Littleton, works to ensure student artists and instructors have what they need, believes it’s important to pay homage to Penland’s history. “We are not getting away from our history, but function now at a higher level. That on its own is exciting.”
In addition to their Penland roles, the two collaborate on a line of barware, Shaker and Salt.
Although there are no formal statistics, both agree that every year, a certain number of people, whether students or instructors, will be drawn to stay in the Penland area just as they have, helping the creative community continue to flourish.
“Penland has an everchanging generational guard,” Fruin says. “It’s a steady flux and flow. Dodd adds, “there’s always a certain amount of nostalgia in being here, but at the same time, it’s amazing to be part of the ongoing evolution of the studio glass movement.”