Where technique, function & feeling, and beauty meet

In Ivy’s home flows an indoor stream. During renovations, this water feature was added to separate the work and living spaces by sound. In the hall, where the trickle is most soothing, light pours in through the high windows and Ivy’s glass works stand quietly. There is an air of reverence in the space.

“I want to make things somewhere between ‘design’ and ‘object’,” he says. “The technique, the functionality and feeling for the one who uses it, the beauty in the form: the work is at the intersection of these three.”

Ivy makes his glass with the free-blowing technique, one that does not use molds. The typical image of free-blown glass is bulky and thick, yet Ivy’s work is quite thin.

“It’s hard,” laughs Ivy.

“It’s not that I wanted to make them thinner, I just chose a method I felt comfortable with. I’m not looking for it to be difficult, but the techniques I want to use and the ones I want to challenge myself with are the basis for my work.”

In his workshop, Ivy takes a week or more to shape one piece. Because of the high level of technical difficulty, the first day inevitably fails. But through days of continuous trials, he’s able to stabilize the work. Therefore, he doesn’t make individual products to order.

“In order to create a good shape, you have to tap into your subconscious. You have to push your limits beyond what you think is insurmountable. But if I can do that, then anyone can. [Laughter.]”

“Functionality and feeling” is the meaning and purpose of a form when it’s used. For example, the way the hand closes the wire snap on a jar, and the way the snap fits comfortably under pressure.

“The wire isn’t necessary for the jar to function. But when it closes with a snap—Ah!—it feels just right. If it were simply functional, there’s no sense of human presence, but with the wire, that sense is born.”

Beauty draws the eye. Attaching a wire creates a frame. Glass is soft; steel, straight. And the eye is attracted to the contrast.

The elements are meticulously constructed from the material, the physicality, and their embodiment. There is a high level of skill and artistic training. And yet, even among two pieces following the same shape, there is a subtle difference created by the nature of the hand. Ivy’s work develops at the intersection of these elements.

“When it comes to glasswork, as your skill increases, your eye goes beyond that. Your technique improves and you can see more, and what you envision making becomes more difficult. I like the things I used to make, but I can’t make them the same way anymore. You can’t go back to the past.”

When you turn your attention inward, glass becomes a “glass space”

Peter Ivy was born in Texas, U.S.A., and after high school, worked as a car mechanic and a carpenter before attending a school for design.

His experience as a mechanic and carpenter inclined him to work more with his hands, and so he took a class in glasswork, just as computer-aided design was coming into vogue.

After graduation, he created works of art while teaching at art schools. The work was enjoyable and on a good track, but Ivy felt the future was too set in stone. With the start of a new relationship, he moved to an unknown place, Japan.

“In the United States, glass is a material for artistic expression, but in Japan, it’s a vessel for food. I used to make object d’art that combined glass and other materials, but in Japan, my interest in making things with functionality was piqued.”

When Ivy began working in Japan, lacquer and woodworking included many artists designing with simplicity, but most glasswork was colored or patterned. However, he wished to focus on transparent pieces.

Ivy created as he wished and attracted customers from the start. Many were looking for “simple, cozy, hand-made” things. Ivy has also become one of the more popular artists of the Seikatsu Kogei movement [meaning “fine crafts for daily living”], whose works are hard to come by.

It was not Ivy’s intention to become part of an artistic movement in coming to Japan. However, “I wouldn’t want to do this work in America,” he says.

“In the U.S., you sign a contract with a gallery, exhibit in a designated building, and that’s it. But in Japan, the gallery people come to see your exhibition in the studio with the artist present, so immediately there are relationships among the artist, gallery and the visitors. You can communicate your thought and creation processes, and the relationship between everyone deepens.”

For example, Ivy’s work has a rounded “point” at the bottom of each piece. It’s usually something that’s removed but, “I like things that have little hints of how they were made, so I left them as is.” When listening to Ivy talk about his work, I can imagine the role of the point in production, and the mark becomes endearing.

And just how did the cone at the bottom take its shape?

“It’s a design element, but there’s beauty in the shape and a change in the focus of our attention. The cone draws my attention there, and I’m aware of it, and when I use the glass, and my attention is there, I can see a new world through it.”

It also has an architectural element.

“Glass is a craft that uses light as a medium. With a window, that means the light from outside. With a container, it’s the relationship between the light and the contents within, and the light is a material in which the physical elements of the work are incorporated. That’s why it’s very much influenced by space.”

Life is My Work

Ivy has been renovating his house bit by bit since moving to Toyama fourteen years ago. In the barn of the house across the road, the staff work on carpentry.

The staff of six now have a variety of skills, including carpentry and welding, and some are artists themselves. Everything related to craft and construction is shared in Ivy’s workshop, not only glass production techniques.

The workshop’s name, Flow Lab, comes both from the fluidity of glass material and production and from the need to be flexible in learning new techniques and in the nature of the studio.

“There are art schools where you can study glass, but it’s largely for artistic expression, and the time frame isn’t sufficient for developing the skill. Gone are the factories where one could once learn artisanal handicrafts. That’s why I decided to pass on the skills that were once available in such factories to my private workshop.”

The production line “Kobo Series” was jointly developed with food stylist Midori Takahashi, to whom he passed on basic techniques and trained with the creation of a few pieces. At the same time,  the staff’s access to the facilities for private works was alternated with the production line to reduce the demand on the kiln and to keep the work from feeling monotonous during the apprenticeship. They were able to practice a methodology for gradual independence while honing skills and supporting each other.

“There’s so much to learn from teaching. When people come together, and various techniques are gathered and kilns are shared, you can learn great things to pass onto others. It’s why I’m increasing the facilities at my studio now.”

Ivy’s concern about craft is that it’s becoming too narrow. “I get the impression that categories are considered important, but what’s more important is the ability to create something.”

Something might not always fit into one category. The staff not only blow glass, but they also install ceilings, making fittings, and weld. They learn from each other’s techniques, and what they learn is reflected in their glass production.

“Reconstruction is interesting and educational work. I’m also interested in fixtures and want to do more with architecture. But first and foremost, I want to work with light. Glass and architecture are both creative in terms of their relationship to light.”

And in his daily life, Ivy finds motivation and inspiration for his work. While giving shape to fluid things, he resists rigidity, and instead continues to explore and attend to everything that surrounds him.

“Life is my work. Even the reconstruction of a house is an education for me. It’s very important to me to not be divided.”