Il Maestro Mio
Ethan “Eta” Bond-Watts
Elio on The Allegory of the Animals
“Proud, very proud,” Elio pulls back his shoulders and puffs up his chest. He lowers his chin, “but humble, always humble.” He is modeling the “drago,” the dragon that carries the cup on so many of his goblets. “For the swan,” he continues, “multo delicato,” this time it's in the hands and wrists. He makes two dainty A-OK’s, and tilts them up as he lowers his arms, forming two tiny winglets at his waist. I am amazed at how convincingly a muscular 70-year-old Italian man can go into character as the mythological archetype of femininity and grace. “Please... I show you,” he silently whips an iron out of the pipe warmer. He takes his gather, the light and heat of the furnace make his face glow.
Elio on Glass for Everyone
“Too expensive,” he looks over the price list accompanying his stunning collection of goblets, candelabra, and sculpture displayed on top of the CMOG Studio’s big belly toploader in HotShop A. “Today... more small, less decoration.” For Elio, that means only one creature, four flowers, and two frilly bits on the decanter. It means a two handle optic stem on his mezzo-stampo goblet. It means only a six-bar cage entrapping the swan on his hipped chalice. As the students, both his and those of his colleagues, quietly buy up his pieces over the next few days, they find that there is a gorgeous piece they can afford, whatever their budget. Even more quietly, he slowly gives away all the little animals he’s made before class, during lunch, whenever there’s a free moment on a bench, to the kids sitting in the bleachers. “It’s nice for everyone to have glass,” he explains to me, “for beauty, for inspiration.” He hands a little snail to a young man who has been hovering over the annealer display for half an hour. “Don’t tell,” he says to the young man, “please, enjoy.”
Elio on Seizing Opportunity
“For six weeks I watch him make the piece,” Elio remembers, of his experience as a young assistant at Barovier & Toso. “One day, my maestro no show up for work. The boss at the fornace look at the bench and he scratch his head,” Elio shows us what he means. “I go to him and I say, ‘I am young, but I have been assistant on this piece for six weeks. Let me show you how I can make it.’ When my maestro show up the next day for work, the boss say, ‘Elio is making this piece now, this is his bench, now you have a bench over there.’” Elio recounts the story with pride. “I was very nervous, but I showed very relaxed. You must show relaxed, and focus very hard.”
Elio on Mistakes and Personal Integrity
“You will be in charge of the garage,” Elio’s hand is on my shoulder, his face is uncomfortably close to mine. I don’t know whether it is an Italian difference in the size of the personal bubble, or if he means to convey the importance and intimacy of the critical and unglamorous post he is assigning me.
“I’ll do a good job,” I say with a hard swallow.
“Don’t let anybody else touch it,” he continues, “it is your responsibility alone.” I nod affirmative. He nods too, and whips around to attend to the day’s preparations. I walk a slow circle around the massive and elaborate annealing garage that Harry Seaman, CMOG’s prodigious shop manager, has recently fabricated to Elio’s specifications. Venturi burner, check, dual chimneys, check, two sets of doors within doors within doors, a chain driven turntable, thermocouples all over the place, check, check, check. “Okay,” I think, “show relaxed and focus very hard.”
The obsessive compulsive brain circuitry kicks in, and for the next few days, every thirty seconds I think of the annealer. I wake up under the threadbare sheets of the Days Inn, “drago... what’s the garage temp? Oh yeah, it’s the middle of the night.”
At the end of the week, just as I think I have gotten the hang of the garage, I return from dinner to find every door completely closed, my elaborate system of radiation and drafts is undermined. The sailor in my mind’s ear lets loose the worst of his four letter assessments as I run up to check the temperature. *!?#, 1,300 degrees ;*%@, =^&$!!!!!!!! I throw open the doors, and the worst is confirmed. A long day of the maestro’s brilliant work is reduced to a single fused slumber party of birds, dragons, and horses on a bed of wilting flowers.
My first reaction is the classic American reaction. “There must be someone I can blame for this!” I race around the studio, “who closed the doors?... Who closed them?...” Luckily no one owns up to it, and I am forced to deal with the situation for what it is, an honest mistake that led to lost glass, with my hand on the tiller. I find the TA, Matt Urban, and bring him up to speed. With Elio gone for the evening, we decide to consult with his dear friends and colleagues Shin-ichi and Kimiake Higuchi, who are teaching pate-de-verre down the hall.
“It is just too bad,” Kimiake says. “But someone must take full responsibility this. And you should tell Elio as soon as you can.”
“Classic Japanese response,” I think, “funny, my first reaction was just the opposite. Defer, deflect, deny: the three D’s of personal responsibility.” “Of course, you’re right,” I say to Kimiake, “Thank you.” We exchange a little bow, and Matt Urban and I walk back to the hot shop to strategize how we will break the news to our Maestro.
We knock on the door of Elio’s hotel room. “Mattyu, Eta,” he greets us with a smile. His room is warm and humid from a hot shower. It smells of European cologne. Elio looks good enough to hop on a private jet. College basketball is humming on the TV, “Please, what’s wrong,” he can read it on our faces right away.
“Drago, sleeping,” Matt says.
Elio knows what he means right away. For a moment, his head falls with a sigh... Just as quickly, he picks it back up. “Okay, it’s okay. Please, not this long face,” he says to me as he pulls his own face into a frown with his hand. “When I was assistant in Murano, my maestro had thirty goblets in garage, my responsibility, all slump. I look like this,” he grabs my face with both hands. “Tomorrow I tell Harry and tell the class, ‘no one touch the garage but Eta.’ Okay? Okay.”
He does.
Elio on Confronting Fear
“When I was very young in Murano, I would help to prepare the fornace very early in the morning. It was the war, and sometimes the lights would be dark so the airplanes could not see the city.” As Elio recounts his earliest memories, I can’t believe my ignorance of the history.
“It was very scary for me,” he continues. “Everything was dark, and there were big shadows from the fornace. But the people around me were very brave, so I was brave too.”
Elio on Innovation in Glass
“The piece was very beautiful, but it took a very long time,” Elio is describing a giant luminaire he used to make at Barovier & Toso. “One day, I say to the designer, ‘Look, we open from the bottom, and no need to punty. We blow it thin here and no need to trim.’ The designer say ‘fine,’ and now we make three or four more pieces in a day. The boss was very happy.
“The glassblower who makes the piece always knows the better way to make the piece. He makes the work, he wants to make it better, faster.”
Elio on Travel and Home
Elio speaks four languages. Italian, English, French, and Spanish. He can use them all in the same conversation, in the same sentence. “You should travel the world,” he says, “but you should live where you are from. That is your home, your culture. You will never be at home in the same way anywhere else.”
Elio on Learning Glass
“You learn from your maestros,” Elio says. “You should have many maestros. You take a little bit from here, and a little bit from here, and a little bit from here.” He is picking imaginary berries with his right hand and placing them into his left hand. “And you have all of this, and you have something that is you and your own. That is your style.”
Elio on Courtship
Elio and I are walking west on Market Street in downtown Corning, toward the setting sun. He is incredulous that I don’t have a girlfriend. “Eta, please. You are young, you should have a girlfriend.” He continues, “when I was young in Venice, the boys, my friends and I, we walk the promenade along the canal like this.” He casually strolls, chest out, hands in his pockets, eyes relaxed. “The girls would walk like this.” He walks the other direction, hands folded in front of him, a little sway in his hips, “and we would pass. If you saw someone you liked, you smile at them. They smile back. The next day, your friend talks to their friend and says, ‘my friend likes your friend. Maybe she likes him too.’ And then you meet, and you walk the canals, and then she is your girlfriend.”
“I guess I’m a little shy,” I half laugh, remembering the cool bravado, tight jeans, and slick hair of the gangs of Venetian boys I had seen during my month in Venice the previous winter.
“Please, I show you.” He turns toward the window of a little boutique, “You see her? Very beautiful, right?” A gorgeous young woman is cleaning glass on the shelf in the store.
“Of course,” not knowing what I am getting into.
“Please,” he says, as he opens the door for me. Despite full cardiac arrest, I slink into the store with the Maestro right behind me. We browse for less than a minute before he engages her. “Good afternoon, the glass is very beautiful. I am a glass blower from Italy, this is my assistant, Eta.” He turns to me.
“How’ya’doin, good’to’meetchya, beautiful stuff,” I manage to squeak out.
Elio continues, “Eta told me the glass is very beautiful, but you are more beautiful. Eta?” looking back to me.
“Heh...” I smile awkwardly, I can hear my heart pound in my forehead, “everything is beautiful here,” my face fire engine red at this point. She smiles, and blushes a little too.
“Thank you very much,” Elio breaks the silence, “I hope we will see you soon.”
“Hopefully,” she says. Elio leads me out the door, my ears ringing.
Back on Market Street, I am grateful for the cool air and open sky. I have barely caught my breath when we see three young women approaching from the other direction. Elio nudges me on the arm in a way that I am sure they notice, and know involves them. He tucks his left arm casually into the small of his back, lifting his chest at the same time. It sets him up for a graceful little bow as we move into conversational distance with the young women.
“Escus’e me’e,” he says, Italian accent extra thick for the special occasion, “please, do you have the time? Eta, please translate.”
“Your speaking english,” I laugh, and turn to our new friends, “do you know what time it is?”
“Almost five,” one says. “You guys aren’t from around here, are you.”
“I am from Venezia,” Elio’s english back up to speed, “and my friend is from Vermont. We are visitors, glass blowers. Please, what is fun for young people to do in the evening here? For my friend Eta.”
The chat is under way. We end up exchanging phone numbers and promises of meeting up later in the week. Elio never lets his posture or smile fade. He says “farewell,” with another little bow, and as we continue past them, strolling west down the promenade, he pulls that left arm out from the small of his back and lets it drop to his side, his watch hanging gracefully from his wrist.
Elio on The Future of Glass
Elio is like a proud uncle, leafing through the pictures. “Ah,” he says, “very beautiful.” He is flipping through my portfolio and stops on a big, colorful installation of glass swooshes hanging on stainless wires. “The history of glass is Venice,” he says, “but the future of glass... I think it is America.” He continues through the images, “and this one,” he has stopped on filigrana goblets, “just like Murano.” I know he is flattering me and I don’t care.
“You are my maestro,” I throw it right back at him. “Just like you taught me.”
He hands the folder back to me. “You are my student. And now you will make the glass. And in the future, you will be the teacher and you will have students. You will teach for them like I teach for you. This is how we learn glass in Venice for a thousand years.” He pauses to let it sink in. “Now, it is your turn, in America.” He smiles, with pride, with humility.
Remembering Elio Quarisa
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Maestro Elio Quarisa worked for years at the finest glass factories in Murano. In his "retirement," he taught glass at schools throughout the world. A well-loved instructor at The Studio, Elio inspired hundreds of artists through his works and instruction. After his death in 2010, a scholarship fund was created by Elio's friends and students to support furnace glassworkers who shared his passion for Venetian glassblowing.
In Elio's memory, Roberto Donà, proprieter of Carlo Donà, maker of fine Venetian glassworking %%tools%% and important friend of Elio, has generously donated a set of 14 %%tools%% to The Studio to be presented to an artist who learned from, or was inspired by, Elio. These %%tools%% will help an artist continue Elio's tradition of Venetian glassblowing.
Those interested in participating may submit one entry with their personal information, a statement about how they were influenced by Elio (either in person or by his work), and up to three images of their own work. The images and statements may be added to this page below. The deadline for submissions is December 1st. Submissions will be reviewed shortly thereafter and the %%tools%% will be presented to the chosen winner.
Special thanks to Roberto Donà for making and donating these %%tools%% in Elio's memory.
Employees, trustees, and fellows of The Corning Museum of Glass may submit images and statements in Elio's memory but are not eligible to win the %%tools%%.
Entry to the contest is now closed. View some submissions below, or to see all of the submissions, visit the Remembering Elio page on Flickr.
Submissions
Ethan Bond-Watts
Terri Sigler
Ethan Bond-Watts
John Volpacchio
I received an e-mail from a friend in Italy the other day saying that I should come to Murano and open up a glass studio. He said that “things are not good.” Then I thought of Elio and the six hundred year tradition of glass there. I see Elio’s smile, I hear his voice, and I visualize his graceful movements and calm demeanor, even when constructing the most difficult of goblet compositions.
I first met Elio through an introduction by Dino Rosin. I was staying with some friends in Vicenza, about an hour away from Venice. Elio and Adriana drove his car to pick me up. They stayed for lunch, and of course the highlight for me was Elio’s lively political debate with my friend’s father. We drove back to Venezia Mestre to take the ferry to Murano. Elio took me to a refurbished monestary where I would live for two months while I worked at the Signoretto Furnaces. Elio visited often, and we would talk about my plans to start a glass program at Salem State University. We even watched the Italian soccer team play in the world cup on T.V. Elio was so excited and alive. His passion for his countrymen was evident as the Azzurri went on to win.
Elio was a classical glass artist. Not only was he a master of the material, he was also a true gentleman. Elio could see beyond the surface, and truly understood the essence of one’s soul and work.
I took five classes from Elio, mostly at The Studio at Corning. In addition, he visited Salem State twice for one week workshops. One of his proudest moments was when we presented him with the University’s first ever lifetime achievement award in the arts. I was honored to share with the community aspects about all of my experiences with Elio. Elio was not just a mentor to me as a glass artist, but also as a human being. I learned just as much about life from him as I did about glass. I told the crowd the story of how I was down and out, and I was losing most of my money in the stock market crash. Elio advised me to sell, sell, sell, and get out. I did not take his wise advice, and as a result I lost more money. Elio also gave me balanced advice as I was getting divorced, and supported me throughout many difficult times. He told me to take better care of myself, and things would work themselves out. Again he was right on target.
The first visit to the University was classic Elio. He impressed everyone with his mastery of the material, and virtuoso style. The elegance and grace of the goblets he created was stunning. His second visit the following year was different. I was frustrated with the sales of my work, and I asked Elio to teach me how to make more money. He was happy to oblige, teaching me a variety of new techniques and forms. We made witches, sailboats, hearts and all kinds of critters. This truly defines Elio’s versatility as a glass maestro. Since then, these items have become my best sellers. This visit also included a four day visit to Josh Simpson’s studio in Western Massachusetts. Elio was excited to be collaborating with one of America’s premier glass artists. They were a dynamic duo, and they created some astronomical pieces. As I drove with Elio for three hours each way, we talked about many subjects in Italian.I saw another side of Elio on this journey There was always wisdom conveyed through the stories he would share with me about his life. I could never imagine moving to France to make thousands of glass baby doll eyes. This must have driven him crazy, but he saw the big picture of survival, and providing for his family. I know that he always wanted to learn and be the best that he could be. This is the true lesson for all of us.
I agree with all of the expressions of gratitude and sincerity of others thoughts on how Elio has touched their lives. Elio was a teacher’s teacher. He was a good friend. Elio can never be replicated, but his classes and many students that he inspired will live on. Mille grazie, Elio. You will always be a part of me.
Ciao,
Giovanni
Marc Barreda
John Volpacchio
Marc Barreda
John Volpacchio
Jussi Sistonen-Lonnroth
When I started glass blowing in February 2012 I had no idea what to expect from glass as a material or glass artist community around it. World of glass was totally new thing for me. Only thing I knew when looking delicate and beautiful goblets in Rakow library books or CMoG showcases while visiting there first time was pure overwhelming appreciation on solid craftsmanship that could produce something so astonishing beautiful. After spending several sessions in Hot glass show watching that magic when glass change form and shape by gaffers effortless commands made me try glass blowing.
I had dreamed one day making my own perfect wine glasses and when entering my first glass blowing class I realized while struggling with first bubbles and tumblers how far away that idea was from reality and how much hard work and practice it would require. Somehow achieving didn’t feel important I just kept enjoying learning working with glass and sharing same passion with other people in glass community. While spending more time practising and taking more glass blowing classes that wineglass dream stayed alive and while following this path I had stepped on when starting glass blowing I don’t know where it will lead me but these first steps has felt right ones.
Quite often during my short career with glass blowing I have returned to watch those beautiful goblets and other pieces in CmoG showcaes and Rakow library books and only lately I have noticed that those goblets I have liked most were made by Elio Quarisa. His colour usage proportions between different elements and general form language has been affecting my thinking about goblets and glass vessels and they form and function. Maybe someday I can do those perfect wine glasses I have dreamed about.
Yuri Okamoto
One of the biggest take aways and life lessons that I have learned from Elio from taking his 2-week class in Corning was to never give up and to have sheer persistence.
During his class, when the top part of piece was cracked when it was put into his special annealer, instead of giving up and remaking a new piece, Elio decided to pick up the piece, take off the cracked part, and repaired the piece. Unfortunately, it was cracked again when it was put into the annealer. He repeated this 3 times. I felt strongly his hidden message the importance of sheer persistence. It would have been easier to remake a new piece but he showed me that sometimes it is not about efficiency and ease.
Elio also taught me the importance of respecting tools. Elio said "Every time" when he put his tools into dedicated pouches after cleaning them with dried cloth. I felt very close connections with Japanese culture because we emphasize the importance of taking good care of tools.
I am very fortunate to be able to take his class and to feel and see glass blowing from a true maestro with such a high standard of professionalism.
Grazie Elio!
Nicholas "Skitch" Manion
Eilo was a true teacher whom taught me more then just traditional glassmaking techniques. He was able to show his students that there was more than just skill in glass, that there was also a lifestyle and a way of thinking around glass. He was able to teach how to plan your process out in your head and work through your methodology. Seeing how he breaks down the process in making his cups in his head, has been priceless. I was able to take this knowledge that he gave me, and apply it to any technique in glass. He changed my way of thinking about glass, and that through the proper thought process, it is possible to teach yourself how to make anything.
He showed his students that even when making complicated pieces like a Reticello goblet, chandelier parts or even a recreation of work he made 35 years ago, that learning to control your stress was important. This is something that many glass teachers struggle to get across. Very few have been able to. Elio was one of the only people who taught this well. Before Elio came into my life, I struggled making things because my emotions got in the way. He taught me how to work past that.
I helped him make some of his last cups he ever made. I do not usually consider myself a goblet maker, but as a glass blower, I was able to recognize that he was a true Venetian glass Maestro. Traditional glass blowing in Venice is team process. He showed me how to work in a team, whether its with someone you have never meet before, or someone you have been working with for 10 years.
The tools that Elio taught were ones that most people are unable to because of his intense amount of experience. The lessons that I learned from him are not just ones to be used in the studio, but in my entire life.
Ethan Bond-Watts
Yuri Okamoto
Nicholas "Skitch Manion
Marc Barreda
I walked into the shop and was confronted by a great man, beaming. The twinkle in his eye glistened more crisply than the glint from the gold chain around his wrist. Both were there for a purpose, and that purpose was associated with the material glass. He told me he was given that bracelet when he retired from the factory. That memento marked a stopping point but not an end. Elio shared without end. He pulled his bench right up to the glory hole with just enough room for him to fit; stand up, sit down. His great hands commanding the glass with the delicacy of a surgeon; the grace and dexterity of an entire orchestra. He shared a tradition to so many of us. His actions took the oeuvre of Venetian glass and opened it up. He shared the process exactly as it has been practiced for hundreds of years. And then he deconstructed it, reversed it, and scrambled it. He showed us a thousand ways to achieve the same end with precision and intention. His descriptive gestures, his simple words gave light to subtlety, to detail. A lifetime of refinement distilled into every moment.
I took two classes with Elio. Each time a community surrounded him. A community I recognized in the hunger that we shared. Wide-eyed and eager we were all there to gain knowledge and comradery. Elio was an endless resource for both as he filled long days with answers and questions, exploring knowledge and interaction through practice as a lifestyle.
I’ve been interested in the glass from the Venetian tradition since I started working with the material. Elio cemented my experiences together unifying history, tradition, and craftsmanship with personality and sent me on a path that has helped define my career as a glassmaker and an artist. A master is identified by his perception and ability with a material and its process. He is also defined by his role in relationship to his counterpart: the pupil or apprentice. Our master, Elio Quarisa, was human and yet his perception superceded ours. He could see into the material as he could into people in ways that I have yet to learn. He continues to challenge me and to teach me to surpass my limitations.
Grazie Maestro.
Yuri Okamoto
Nicholas "Skitch" Manion
Bruce Ferguson
I met Elio when taking a class in February 2004. Though Adrianna translated most of the time, the first thing he did when walking into the studio was introduce himself to all of us individually and repeat our names as we introduced ourselves. He could have just started working or laid out the manner in which the class would progress, or left the introductions to his wife. Instead, he chose to put the interpersonal relationship first. That was our first clue that he was there to share, not just make glass. The others in the class were more skilled, so I just hung out rather than jump in and risk messing up a piece. I soon found out that wasn’t the way to get the most out of his class. While the requests were coming for more and more fancy techniques, he had Adrianna call me over to the bench and asked what I would like to see. I told him something basic and simple so I could improve my skills after he left. He started building a simple goblet on the blow pipe and after the transfer to the punty handed it to me and said to finish it. I was so nervous I hit the yoke too hard with the iron and it was a floor model. It didn’t break though, so Elio picked it back up on the punty and gave it back for me to try again. That was my introduction to his “No Problem” attitude and dealing with whatever comes your way. I can think of a lot of teachers who would have never given a klutz another shot much less coaching him along.
A couple of years later I took a class from him again and knew to jump in if I wanted to learn. He wasn’t bothered if things weren’t going smoothly, he just made it all work. It was the first time I’d seen a finished goblet, when at one time or another, ALL of the components had been on the floor. It didn’t even matter when the annealer was left too hot and pieces slumped. He’d show us how to bring them back up to temperature and work them all over again (easier said than done – check the inset pic of the curved spring stem). It was during this class that I began to appreciate more what he was experiencing teaching in another country. During one demo he wasn’t quite satisfied with something he’d done and muttered to himself as he went to reheat. There was a student from another class observing who spoke fluent Italian. He responded to Elio and it took a couple of moments for it to register. Elio’s face lit up like a child at a party and he began talking non-stop. Who knew he was such a chatterbox! They talked the rest of the day about everything under the sun, not just glass. It made me realize his passion and joy extended beyond just making glass, but to sharing his knowledge with others. Even if it meant dealing with somewhat of a language barrier. It certainly would have been easier on him to have the students adjust to another language instead of him. He treated that just like the goblet on the floor – No Problem. If the words wouldn’t come, then a gesture or drawing would do the job. I don’t think any of us remember him just for a special technique or a spectacular piece he made. That would be a shame. What he showed us wasn’t just for incorporating into a body of work. It was putting your passion and joy into what you do and sharing with others. It didn’t require a Primo Maestro; it took a really good guy showing how to get the most out of life.
Carina Cheung
Robert Comploj
Elio was a fun guy! Especially when I was flying with him back to Europe. He wanted to come to Austria for teaching but only when i serve him good food! That was the most important thing for him :) GOOD FOOD!
Also important for him was a good drink.
When I took his 2 week class, sometimes we went out for dinner and he always had to have his "Dr Pepper" drink. He loved it! The best thing was, in the States u can drink as much as u can and you only had to pay once!!
WE LOVED IT.
He showed me HOW to blow glass
Gathering glass with a cold pipe and than make a goblet out of it :)
Gathering glass - when there was a bubble in it - throw it back in the furnace and at the same time gather new glass.
It was fantastic!
We miss you Elio! Thank you for all the fun!!! :)
Bruce Ferguson
Carina Cheung
Pat Frost
Working with Elio was a incredible privilege. There is no other glass maker that I know of that had the same passion for the material, I remember hearing Elio say how glass was magic and he really believed that was true. His years of experience made for an vast understanding of the glass making process. And the way that he worked with the glass was very natural and wonderful to watch. All who have had the experience to truly study with Elio have came away with a new understanding of how to blow glass. Everyday in the shop there were moments which dramatically changed your way of thinking about glass. Many glass makers with such knowledge would keep their tricks closely guarded secrets. Elio embraced the idea of sharing his love and knowledge for glass. He proved that sharing is the only way to keep the traditions alive and to advance the progress of glass as an art form. For me I also learned many other lessons that were important for the Maestro. The importance of hard work, drawing, study, being a gentleman, and believing in the magic. Although I greatly miss Elio I still feel that he is with us every day that we work, and the short time in our lives that overlapped made a great deal of difference in my future. He has given fueled my ambitions, designs, and proven that there are no boundaries. These lessons stay with me and give me the courage to pursue glass with the faith that if I can make Elio proud of what I create, and remember his lessons about life, that success will surely follow.
Bruce Ferguson
Carina Cheung
I never fully realized the profound impact that Maestro Elio Quarisa had on my glassblowing career until I found myself sitting next to my teacher the day before he passed away. When I heard that Elio was not doing well in December 2010, I visited him at the hospital. Despite his weak condition, Elio still greeted me with the same light and smile, and we just sat there together as I held both of his hands. It was in that last moment I had with him that I truly understood what I learned from him: love for glass, dedication to teaching, lightness of heart, perseverance, and respect. Perhaps that moment was the passing of the torch, and seeing Elio off has served as an impetus to reassess my own purpose with glass.
I met Elio during a tough period in my life, the summer of 2005 at the CMOG workshop, shortly after my grandmother had passed away from lung cancer; I only share this as it was ironically the same path for him. Elio’s zealous energy, love, and playfulness with glass revitalized me quickly, and offered what my soul had been longing for—a passion to work with a magical molten material. It was then that I knew that I wanted to learn more from him firsthand in Murano, as he had learned as a boy in the glass factories.
Elio’s love for glass transcended all facets of life as he dedicated his time to impart all his glassblowing knowledge to willing learners. I remember how he took the time to explain and write out all of the Venetian terms for the tools on a large piece of paper. Glass was still so fresh to me, and it was there that my love for Venetian goblet making blossomed and offered me solace. Elio was like a grandfather to us all, being present to mentor everyone in the class. During his demonstrations, it did not matter if the piece was crooked or broken, because he always found a way to fix it. He was never afraid of making a mistake, nor did he ever get upset when something went wrong. He would just shrug it off and would say, “It’s okay.”
Elio made a lasting impression on my passion for Venetian glassblowing. In 2006, my determination and hard work granted me the opportunity to work with Elio again as his assistant in Murano, while he was working at the Scuola di Vetro Abate Zanetti. I was always amazed at how he could effortlessly put on an avolio and connect the goblet and stem together, and be willing to accept bits and blown feet from me, an assistant who was still learning. His overwhelming wealth of knowledge was so awe inspiring, it made it seem like anyone could learn how to make fish, dragons, swans, mezzastampo, and reticello goblets with ease. Whenever I make swans or reticello bowls, I recall the lessons, the lightheartedness, and the passion that Elio imparted in me. Elio was a creator and had a unique dialogue with glass. I appreciated his relaxed demeanor in making and in repairing things, and how comfortable he made me feel around glass.
The path of a glass maker requires years of dedication, hard work, and practice. Through my continued experiences as an unpaid apprentice in Murano, I have learned that working with glass is more than a reflection of technique; it is an acute awareness of the material and the time that is invested to understand and to perfect the skills. Elio instilled in all of his students that same love for glass, with hopes that we would each create our own stories. I intend to carry on the tradition of Venetian glassmaking in the same caliber of workmanship, with the mutual respect, exchange of ideas, and spontaneity that Elio shared with us all.
The set of tools kindly given by Roberto Doná, proprietor of Carlo Doná, on behalf of his friend Elio, will certainly facilitate me in continuing the traditions of Venetian glassblowing. Throughout the years, my focus has largely been put towards building my skills and acquiring new techniques. Now it is time to begin to carve out my own artistic path by investing in the proper tools that will take me to the next level. I still believe that it is not the tools that make the creator, but what the creator can do with the materials at hand. Yet I know that quality tools are essential and will provide me with the long-sought opportunity to initiate the next phase of my own creative research in Venetian glassmaking. I trust that this set of tools will help me to carry on the practice of Venetian glass in hopes of inspiring others, just as Elio has done for me.
Pat Frost
Pat Frost
Cydney Ferguson-Brey
I met Elio when I was a fledgling glassblower, interning as a tech in Chicago. He was a joy to learn from, endlessly patient. I'll always remember him pulling on his own lips to demonstrate how to properly shape a dolphin's mouth. With his lifetime of training and practice, Elio was the embodiment of the Venetian tradition. His selfless sharing of technique with students was amazing to me, in a profession where so many artists jealously guard the secrets of what they do. As an aspiring professor, I learned so much about how to relate to students from him. As a glass artist, he was always an extraordinary example of humility.
Jon Goldberg
Jon Goldberg
I do not need these tools, please award them to someone who does. However I do want my experiences with Elio memorialized.
A turning point in my artistic development was a class at CMOG with Maestro Elio Quarisa in 2004. Although I learned many techniques during the class, the most important thing gained from Maestro Quarisa was confidence. During a casual conversation at lunchtime during the class, I mentioned that my dream of building a glass studio.
Rather than dwelling on the difficulties of such a venture, Maestro Quarisa encouraged me to move forward and build the studio. He then offered to come and teach after the studio was built. This gesture validated what previously had been a pipe dream and was a defining moment in my journey as a glass artist.
Spurred on by the courage Maestro Quarisa had given, in 2006 I founded a public-access glassblowing studio, East Falls Glassworks, which has grown to be a focal point of the Philadelphia glass community. The studio continues to be a place where many glass artists create their work and learn from each other. It also makes glass accessible for the greater community through classes and public demonstrations.
Maestro Quarisa visited the studio and taught a master class the first year the studio was in operation and twice returned to teach over the next few years.
Nikolaj Christensen
Elio Quarisa actually had an impact on our studio long before it was even in existence; truth be told, he was an integral part of how it came to be. The story begins in 2004 when Jon Goldberg, the eventual founder of East Falls Glassworks, Philadelphia's only public access studio, took Elio's class at Corning. Jon had gotten interested in glass about 5 years earlier and it was during Elio's class that he learned not just about how a true maestro creates those venerable old venetian goblets, but also about the great joys of teaching. It was through experiencing Elio's enthusiasm firsthand that the idea was planted for starting a teaching facility in Philadelphia. Before long, this idea became East Falls Glassworks, the shop which I have managed for almost 5 years. In that time, we have had the pleasure of Elio leading two masterclasses (as the first guest instructor the studio had shortly after its opening in 2006 and again in 2009) and it was with much sadness that we posted the news of Elio's passing 2 years ago to the month. Needless to say, he made a lot of friends through sharing his expertise with students who still, in turn, share stories about the man. I have a couple of my own (and an autographed t-shirt to go with a particular story that I will always remember as long as I remain a glassblower) and we are proud to host a couple pages on the website that honor his memory (www.eastfallsglass.com/elio.php), as well as showcase examples of his work in our office on permanent display.
I am writing to request consideration for the set of tools that Mr. Dona has created and generously donated, not directly for myself, but on behalf of the East Falls Glassworks and it's students, to whom the tools will be made available. There are certainly other professionals who are more worthy, if measured on technical merit alone, than the students who come through our doors and struggle with avolios, blown feet, various bits, and all the other difficult aspects of goblet making... however, I can guarantee these tools will be well used and will keep alive the spirit of a man who most enjoyed seeing talent as it was developing (not to mention a good joke).
We have a host of great pictures of Elio Quarisa in action, but the picture I'd like to include is the one that has ended the slideshow on our website homepage for years. This is one that, I think, really captures the nature of the man.
Ezra Hunt
The first time I had the privilege of working the Maestro Elio Quarisa was in 2000 at San Bernardino Valley College. I was amazed by the how easy he made it looked when he worked with the glass. His movement were so pure and true. His passion was infectious and he was eager to share the ways of venetian glassblowing. Elio returned to San Bernardino Ca. often over the years and each time I had the chance to work with him on many occasions and the opportunity to assist Elio with lots of goblets. Its because of Elio I have a thing for goblets. Elio taught me a lot about glassblowing and about life. He inspired me to put all my passion, heart, and body to my glass and to cherish every moment in the glass studio like it was my last.
Alexander Rosenberg
Elio Quarisa was the first person I ever saw blowing glass in the Venetian style. Before seeing him work, glass seemed to be an uncontrollable material that just kind of ended up in unplanned blobby shapes. I met Elio when he was demonstrating at San Bernardino Valley College where I was enrolled in a glass-blowing class. The shop was small and crowded and I couldn’t get very close to him, but I saw him making glass objects with skill and grace, using mathematically precise cane-patterns and hot applications to create incredible detail. I knew immediately this was the way I wanted to learn how to work with hot glass.
After his demonstration I collected some broken pieces of a discarded vessel and heated them up in attempt to recycle them. To my surprise, Elio was still hanging around the shop and when he saw me working alone (as was customary at the time in that studio), he sat down and helped me finish my piece. I was nervous to work in front of such a skilled craftsman, but he put me at ease quickly, reminding me to “be cool,” that if I moved in a graceful way, that grace would carry over into the work. I felt honored to bring home a vessel that had been shaped by his and my hands together.
This workshop helped me make the decision to study glass at RISD when I began studying there as an undergraduate in 2002. I practiced glassblowing intensely and with great frequency, often at odd hours before the studio was officially open or after it had closed for the evening. By my third year of college, I was relatively proficient at glass-making and was awarded a partial scholarship to take a summer course at The Studio at Corning MOG. I chose Great Venetian Goblets, with Elio Quarisa.
Elio’s teaching was extremely individualized. He focused on the specific strengths and weakness of each student and coached us while we practiced, encouraging us to try new things in different ways than we were used to. This class was a major technical turning point for me and it was Elio’s criticism that incited the change.
One day he approached me when I was practicing with my partner. In his unique combination of gesture, English and Italian, he communicated to me that I was getting to be decent at glassblowing, but unless I changed the way that I was getting in and out of the bench, I would never be able to move fast enough to get much better. He also pointed out that changing this would at first make it quite hard to produce the vessels I had become comfortable with, but over time, I would be able to surpass my previous abilities.
He was right. I began standing up and sitting down in the way he suggested, and I promptly began dropping everything I made on the floor when my pipe or punty would collide with the rail of the bench. It was incredibly frustrating but Elio offered only encouragement and I continued to work in this way until I got used to it. Soon, I was making things better than I ever had before.
Toward the end of the class, the flameworking instructor came into the studio and saw me working on a delicate clear beaker. He was impressed and went to get Elio to point it out. Elio agreed that it was very well-made and I was flattered to receive the compliment from my teacher. The next day I gave the cup to him. He smiled and put it into the garage. I was confused - I thought maybe he had misunderstood my intention and somehow thought I was asking for a demonstration. He went on with the morning’s demos, and when the cup I had made was sufficiently hot, he began making a delicate goblet stem and foot. He was brought the cup and he attached it to the stem. After retrieving the piece from the annealer the next day, he casually handed it to me, saying something to the effect of, “You gave this glass to me, now I'm giving it back to you.” and that was that.
Today I am a full-time glass professor, so I think about Elio often when I am demonstrating the techniques that he once (not so long ago) taught me. In my office at the university is a shelf holding two objects that he and I made together, marking two moments in my life when Elio had made a lasting impression on me.
Jon Goldberg
James Pingel
I feel lucky to have met Elio on a few occasions. The first was while taking his Venetian glass techniques class at Abate Zanetti in 2006 which opened my eyes to the possibilities of glass working by a true master. The ease and deliberateness of his motions to shape the glass, fast but not rushed, were amazing and even though he must have made those same goblets thousands of times before he always seemed to enjoy it none the less. He told us to always relax at the bench, sit up with good posture and be gentle with the glass to guide it to the right shape. I felt he had different respect for the glass than us or anyone I had worked with before- it basically was the history of Murano and his own as well. I say this now when thinking how a pained look would come onto his face if one of us abandoned a piece half way though, ditching it into the bucket because we were having trouble instead of trying to finish it though to a final piece. If a piece cracked, he would try to save it. If it dropped off the punty and didn't shatter, he would make the fastest punty I’d ever seen, pick it up, and hand it back to us. One of the students overheated a blown foot which collapsed onto itself making it undeliverable- Elio grabbed a pipe, gathered, blew, and almost magically presented a new foot to the waiting gaffer in what seemed like seconds. He pushed us to never quit, never give up, and always keep focused and working until the end. Decades of working in the glass factories, making thousands of pieces in repetition didn't dull his appreciation for any single piece as I would have thought. In fact, it was the opposite as he seemed to genuinely care about every piece and making sure it got finished and put away safely- not because our skill level allowed us to make anything even close in quality to his, but because I think he felt every bit of molten unformed glass taken from the furnace should be given the chance to fulfill its potential of becoming something better then it started as. I don’t want to sound overly dramatic, but it’s a feeling I never had in any other class.
The last time I saw Elio was autumn of 2010. A small group of us had traveled to Murano to blow glass at Abate Zanetti for a week. Before our studio week began, he and Adriana hosted us on their back patio for way too much wine and snacks while everyone caught up. They were such welcoming and unassuming hosts, making everyone feel truly welcome. We worked in the studio for a week and on the last day they dropped by to say hello and see the progress of some of his former students. As we were still nowhere near his skill level, you may imagine being observed by a true master during his surprise visit while trying to assemble a goblet was not the most relaxing of situations. After observing us for a while, he asked to take the bench not to blow glass but to teach us. He sat and simply rolled a pipe back and forth on the rails, repeating “Relax! No stress.” Sitting up with perfect posture, he rolled the pipe again, shaping the imaginary glass with the tools, “like this… always elegante, always tranquillo. Okay?” I always remember these words when working in the glass studio and often times while I’m not as I think his lesson applies to both the glass studio specifically and life as a whole. Thank you, Elio.
Ezra Hunt
Alexander Rosenberg
Lee Harris - "Homage to Elio"
Elio inspired me as a person, to accept life as it is, to love people.
He taught me to that when I am blessed to work in glass...to enjoy the moment, to listen to the glass.
By example-the importance of body posture..."Lee, Elegante, Relax"!
I miss, but will always picture his reassuring smile-his joy of sharing food, art, life!
Ciao, Elio!
James Pingel
Ezra Hunt
Jonathan Yao
Murano is miserable in July, but I would choose no other place to have spent it back in 2005. This is where I met Elio for the first time, taking a goblet class from him at La Scuola del Vetro Abate Zanetti. It is said that the true skill of a craftsperson is that they are able to make very difficult techniques look effortless. In that respect, Elio was Mr. Cool. He was a glassblowing version of The Fonz. If things broke or went wrong, it only took a couple of bits or a visit to the garage for him to fix it.
Elio created an environment where everyone was welcome to gather around his bench and soak up the decades of experience he was so eager to share. Goblets can be very intimidating objects to make, yet he finessed them into being with an ease and familiarity that was inspirational to all, and made the techniques actually seem approachable. This was one of the great advantages he had as a teacher. It encouraged all of us in his class to push ourselves and tackle techniques that were probably a little over our heads at the time. Up to that point, I had never learned so much in such a small amount of time. This was the moment that took my material understanding of glass to the next level and has inspired my art making ever since.
I returned from Italy refreshed, inspired, and ready to make the most of my last semester at San Francisco State University. I began incorporating traditional goblet making techniques in my conceptual art practice, usually in non-traditional forms. Taking a variety of influences from my experience in Italy (Baroque and Rococo reliquaries, Muranese glass-making tradition, the tourist economy, monuments and landmarks, and Venice itself), I created delicate works dealing with issues of history, religion, material, imprisonment, celebration, and decay.
Although my experiences with Elio were brief, few, and far between, he has played a huge role in shaping my approach to glass object making and my artistic practice. I will always be grateful for having spent those two weeks in Murano with him.
Matthew Urban
The first time I watched Elio work was on the island of San Servolo outside Venice in 2001. I was taking a class there and Elio came in one afternoon to do a demo. He worked up a large dragon stem goblet, reheating in the furnace, he knocked it out quick and easy, I was hooked. I was able to take my first class with Elio the following winter 2002 at the Studio. It was Elio's first class at Corning and we had a good group of students. Elio's first demo right out of the gate was the Guggenhiem cup with an assistant who did not speak Italian and Elio spoke very little if any English at that time. Now you can see that on youtube, nobody was making them then, and especially not in a workshop situation. The students and I in that class were picking out, from books, what we thought were the most difficult cups to make and Elio was making them like he ran production on them all. When the five day class was over I had seen so much my head was spinning. Up to this point I had taken workshops and mostly instructors would work in the comfort zone of their product line. Murano was Elio's production line, and it was with ease he would transition from old Salviati designs to Venini and Barovier and Toso designs. All you needed to do was open a book and point or do a chalk drawing on the floor and he was off to show you how it is done. I had taken numerous classes with Elio at the Studio always telling myself it was the last one, and he would always have profoundly new information from solving problems to different ways of assembly, to color application you name it, and that keep me coming back. One class that I took on incalmo, I wanted to make these Venini bottles so Elio made one in class. I tried it that evening failed miserably, I showed him what I had done the next day. He looked at me scratched his chin and proceeded to make the exact same bottle completely backwards from the way he had made it the day before and made the same object .This is when I realized Elio literally knew glassmaking backwards and forwards. Elio started in the factory while there were still wood burning furnaces on the island he watched the old masters, and I believe he worked to emulate the way they worked. What I mean is very little blocking and marvering, most work was made straight out of the furnace. He distilled the process down to the essence where it became a simple dialogue back and forth between he and the glass. I was fortunate enough to take five classes with Elio at the Studio and to assist him nine times in schools and studios across the midwest. The efficiency that Elio has taught me continues to inform my studio practice and enables my studio to survive. I still hear Elio's voice when I am at the bench guiding and reminding me of the tradition that was so much a part of him. I always realized and valued the time I had working with Elio Quarisa, it was for me, a real gift.
Jussi Sistonen-Lonnroth
Terri Sigler
Sustaining Venetian Tradition in Elio Quarisa Memory
Influences are conjurors and tricksters coming to us on the winds of various forms, and at the most inopportune times, often disguised as something small and insignificant, working their way into our souls in the dark recesses of our busyness. And so it was with me when I was gifted a glassblowing class from my husband. I didn’t have the time, with young children to tend, and a newfound convenient love of bead making, his plea for me to explore all areas of glass before committing completely to the art of glass beads seemed excessive; and so when I was gifted a glassblowing class for Christmas in 2005 little did I realize the path to Elio Quarisa had been set. Like water in the smallest crack that class worked into the sinews of my soul and one path led to another and another until now I find myself at a keyboard trying to articulate how a man I never met, has become so important to my sense of the creative spirit, the life lived courageously through art. Words of course are slippery little devils prone to go on permanent vacation when we need them the most, and so I seek the help of those that came before me to articulate what Elio represents to my path to a greater understanding of working within the flow of transitioning liquid thoughts to solid pieces of art.
D.H. Lawrence, the great Victorian poet said it far better than I ever could hope to in his poem “We are Transmitters”,
As we live, we are transmitters of life.
And when we fail to transmit life, life fails to flow through us…..
And if, as we work, we can transmit life into our work,
Life, still more life, rushes into us to compensate, to be ready
And we ripple with the life through the days……
And so it has been for me since that first class seven years ago. Way led on to way, of course, and I found myself in the Venetian-Style class of Bill Gudenrath, and in his teaching, and stories ‘life, still more life’, rushed into me. I was allowed through those stories to come along to Italy, to see how glass flowed from Italy to other parts of the world, to be in the room as Elio made the Dragon goblet again and again, to walk the streets of Murano, to hear Elio’s words of life growing up in Venetian factories, and to hear countless other meandering stories of Elio, Lino and many other Venetian Maestros and in those words something important was seeded in me. My desire to learn the Venetian craft became insatiable. Over the course of Bill’s class, and subsequently others, I spent hours and hours inside the walls of the Rakow Library pouring over texts, photographs and videos of the Venetian masters. And again, in the Corning Museum discussing and absorbing permanent and temporary Venetian collections. I have spent countless hours over the past five years building my own furnace and glory hole and at each roadblock asked myself how does its design and function lead me to becoming a better Venetian glass artist. I have to admit to some moments of doubt and to the occasional wandering of thoughts, “Did Elio have these problems when he worked with Harry in building the gas annealer at The Studio?” And time and time again with the help of Harry and Bill, my design became more refined, more crystal clear in its ability to lead me to becoming a better transmitter of the life I am pouring into my glasswork. I am proud to believe that through Harry, Bill and the greater Corning Community that Elio has touched my humble studio in my home. In the solitude of late night sessions I realize that the history of the Venetian glass resides within me in the life I put into my studio and that Elio contributed towards that life when he committed to ensure the Venetian glass tradition would not be lost, as members of the Murano’s glass community began to pass on, by teaching and becoming a Transmitter in the truest sense of D.H. Lawerence’s poem.
Even if a woman is making an apple dumpling, or a
Man a stool,
If life goes into the pudding, good is the pudding
Good is the stool
Content is the woman, with fresh life rippling in to her
Content is the man
I wonder would Elio be as content as I knowing that his teachings, transmitted through others have touched and led to so much happiness in a backyard homemade studio in Asheville, NC. Could he have ever known the unseen support that his invisible reach provided to the doubt that existed in someone who started late in life on the path of glass. That history, that unseen touch of a master since passed, is important to me and I would be humbled to work with the tools of Roberto Dona as I know the life of Elio has been put into those tools and that they will transmit that life in a way that I would honor on a daily basis.
Jonathan Yao
Matthew Urban
Jussi Sistonen-Lonnroth
Terri Sigler
Jonathan Yao
Matthew Urban
Eric Meek
Elio's greatest lesson for me - Whatever you bring into the shop will manifest itself in your glass. If you approach your work with passion, humility and respect great things will happen.
Eric Meek
DH McNabb
DH McNabb
DH McNabb
When I first met Elio Quarisa, I was quite green or naïve in my glass experience. In the summers between semesters at Centre College in Danville, Kentucky I would take classes at the Studio in Corning to expand what I knew, how I thought and what I made. I am deeply enamored and enchanted with Venetian glass. However, I am an American, a melting pot of travelers who came here to the United States starting in the 1600s. The work I make is set up and approached from what would be a Venetian perspective. I believe in making things new and learning from the past. Elio was someone who showed glass enthusiasts, and makers the past, specifically the golden age of Venetian glass. Dragons and Seahorses – Guggenheim’s and Veronese’s were all part of the dialog that swirls in the Venetian Lagoon.
A few years later I took another class with Elio, he had been to Pilchuck and his lore had spread. He was one of the maestro’s at Elite, the legendary goblet firm now defunct on Murano. I remember while taking the class and watching a demo that Beagles, a friend in the class, said to the rest of the class and Eric Meek the teaching assistant “ It wouldn’t surprise me if he took a piece of sheet glass on the marver and bent it”! That stuck with me – regardless of the challenge Elio never gave up. A piece would fall on the floor and he would put it in the garage, a piece would break in annealing and he would be pick it up again and fix it. He never stopped pushing the boundaries or limitations of self and material. What one knows is just the simple beginning. These moments along with others from many other glassmakers have influenced me as a maker and a thinker of glass.
I remember the last time I saw Elio, it was on Murano. In February of 2006 Chihuly sent a crew to Finland to work and I was a part of the crew. After the trip a friend and I traveled to Murano to work for a week. On the Island it was my goal to see Elio, as well. We were walking and stopped in one of the many places for a juice down from Venini. As I walked out there was Elio, tall and smiling. We shook hands, had a hug and talked. These are the fading memories I now have of a man who helped so many create beauty with glass.
I have now finished my Masters at RISD and am traveling around the country searching for work much as I did a decade ago when I met Elio at the Studio in Corning. In my thesis I came to the conclusion that it is not necessarily about what one can make, but what one can expose, and Elio exposed all of us to a lot.
Daniele Fratarcangeli
In 2008 after graduating from college, I flew to Murano and began an apprenticeship at the Abate Zanetti School of Glass. There I apprenticed under the direction of Elena Rosso, Vittorio Ferro, Livio Sereno and Elio Quarisa. I worked for each of these glass masters and learned a great deal about glassblowing. More importantly, I learned about the history of Murano, the Venetian language, and eventually I was able to work for Silvano Signoretto in his factory.
Working in the factory was such hard work. We made up to 12 chandeliers a day. I would get up at 5 in the morning and work harder then I had ever worked in my life for 30 euro a day. I would get burnt during production and had to grit my teeth and bare it while putting away chandelier parts. One day when coming home from work on Vapperetto I ran Into Elio who greeted me with a bright smile. He saw the soot on my face the burns on my arms and kind of laughed. He asked how long I planed on staying on Murrano. I told him, “as long as I could.”
He told me, “six months here (Murano) and you will make una sacca di soldi for the rest of your life.” His words encouraged me to stick through the hard work. I saw Elio several times after that. He always greeted me with a “Ciao DANIELE” and it is hard for me to imagine returning to Murano and not seeing Elio drinking an espresso at a local bar. The international glass blowing community was so lucky to share in the genies of Elio Quarisa.
I now design and fabricate modern chandeliers and teach glassblowing classes to students of all ages at the Fallbrook School of the Arts in San Diego California.
Daniele Fratarcangeli
Daniele Fratarcangeli
Submitted by Lee Harris
One day, a partner of Chicago Hot Glass came to me in a panick..."we have an opening for Maestro Elio Quarisa's workshop, and miscalculated the budget"! I smiled, though goblet's weren't my area of sculpting, agreeing to meet the shortfall, and attend this workshop. From the first moment of meeting Elio, and his wife Adriana, I knew I was in the presence of not just a great & passionate Maestro, but one who loved life, his wife, people.
My wife & I were asked if we could show Elio & Adriana Chicago, and immediately connected, like old friends. I was fortunate to spend many times (though not enough), at our homes in Murano & the US. Elio and I became something greater than friends, he was like the brother I always had envisioned. Many times, without speaking, we found we had the same thoughts, at the same time...could finish each others sentences.
One of the hardest things I've experienced, along with losing my father, was losing Elio.
On the one hand, I know a friendship, besides your spouse, is possibly something that happens once in your lifetime, if at all. And, times you experienced, profound & amazing as they are at the time, become benchmarks of your life. To me, each time with Elio was like that. I think of times, laughing with Elio, of watching him walk thru the streets of his beloved Murano, with anyone & everyone near him yelling out "Ciao, Elio", and knowing he then asked how they were, their family, friends, listening intently-to each word. Elio constantly demonstrated his passion-of glass, of life, for people.
I told Elio, if he ever ran for Mayor of Murano, he would win by a landslide!
So, now as we approach 2 years since losing Elio, I realize how fortunate I was, how fortunate we all were, for having Elio with us, as a teacher, husband, Maestro, friend. My heart still has the same heaviness as when Adriana told me that he had passed on, but the joy of knowing the place in my heart-where he lives, as with so many others he touched & loved him. He is in my mind when I'm working in glass, I hear him saying "Lee, easy, easy, breathe...elegante!", meaning, love the glass, relax, enjoy.
I think to the month before he passed away, how energetic he was, still, without anyone knowing his suffering & battle with cancer. I remember our visiting Roberto Dona, at Carlo Dona Tools watching Elio & Roberto conversing, like father & son, Elio's hand on Roberto's shoulder, with such concern...their laughter together!
Elio affected so many lives, from the aspiring future glass Maestro thru Maestro Pino Signoretto, who knew each other since children, to some of the last people to collaborate Elio...Josh Simpson, Dante Marioni (both speaking of him with reverence). Watching him on You Tube, assisting him, you share the feeling of being in the presence of a great person, a caring person, an unspoken Maestro of Maestro's.
I know Jeff Mack was right when he told me "I believe that Elio will live forever, that more & more people will look at his legacy, his work, earning him the place he so deserved"...a Maestro that comes around every few generations.
Elio's only request was to have his beloved Muranese Glass techniques, which he passionately learned & embraced, from 9 years old, not die with his generation, with the end of his life.
I know this, he repeated it to me many times, as his greatest hope.
To this I end..."Ciao Elio"-we love you, always will.
Submitted by Lee Harris
Elio pointing to the ancient gate on Murano-which I used for my logo-as Elio knew-in homage to him.
Submitted by Lee Harris
Elio with Roberto Dona -
Submitted by Harry Seaman
Elio was amazing. From the Venetian stemware and cane vessels to the small whimsies he would make, Elio never ran out of things to make and techniques to share. The Studio and I worked hard to create a comfortable atmosphere for him, and it was this desire that had us build our first gas annealer. We literally worked off a drawing on a napkin. Elio designed and used a turntable inside to adjust and tweak his stemware to perfection.
When watching him work, I never ceased to be amazed at how Elio could boil down the process to a few crucial steps. He worked casually, with a smile, and would happily take bits and help from the students only to wave them away half the time as they showed up too early or too late for what he needed. Working with Elio was fun. Often times we didn't dare take our eyes off the glass for fear we'd miss some nuance or hand movement. This only made us worse assistants, trying to gather and still watch what he was doing.
The image I am including is a small branch with a bird and 2 flowers, something Elio made and gave me after the gas annealer was finished. Even though he made a lot more stemware, he always had time to, without anyone knowing what the finished item would be, put together these little glass animals and constructions. These are something that I always found attractive, and the process, along with the subject, seemed a good symbol of freedom and pleasure in glass, and a good way of remembering Elio.
Tracy Weisel with Elio Quarisa
In 2004, my wife and I had the opportunity to go to Italy. Being a glassblower, there was no way that we would miss visiting Murano. Prior to the trip, I had gone to a workshop in California where Elio was showing his skills. Just before we left, a friend of mine said that he would send me Elio’s contact information in Murano. As it happened, I never received it before I departed for Europe. After arriving and settling in Venice on our first day, we made plans to go to Murano on our second day. We did the typical tourist things of going in and out of a couple of studios and galleries, and then decided to venture down some of the side streets. We basically got to a dead end and were turning around when someone started to speak to us in Italian. I’m sure we looked lost. As I looked into the eyes of the person speaking to us, I realized it was Elio. He didn’t personally know me or my wife, but my friend Jim Stewart from CA was a friend of his so I mentioned his name. Elio’s eyes lit up. From that point on, he made our day in Murano incredible. One of the first things he did for us was to take us to his home and we sat on his back porch and had a glass of wine in an absolute incredible setting on the water. I got to play darts with him a little and then we went out to lunch. After that we went to a number of studios through the back door as opposed to the front door. Only he could have gotten us in, and found the places. We got to watch incredible artists work. Then I mentioned that I was looking for a specific optic mold that was unavailable in the States. Elio took us to a small shop, in a residential area, with no signs on it, that only a glassblower from the island would know how to find. I was able to purchase the “pineapple stampa” which I have used many times in my career, and every time I use it, I think about my adventure with him. After that point on our trip, everything else seemed like a small piece. That day was the highlight of our adventure to Italy. His generosity with his time and efforts was at a standard I only hope to reach in my life.
Austin Littenberg
Austin Littenberg
Austin Littenberg
My first introduction to Elio Quarisa was in the summer of 2005 while I was attending a goblet making class with Emilio Santini in The Studio at the Corning Museum of Glass. Elio was teaching goblets in the adjacent hotshop at the time, and every opportunity I had, I would go over to watch him work. I was pretty sure at the time that I wanted to learn goblets, especially in the Venetian approach, but I was a lampworker at the time. Seeing him working in the hotshop changed my interest to hot glass in the hotshop on the spot. I started college at Bowling Green State University in the spring of 2007 and we welcomed Elio as a visiting artist, as the glass program did there every year. I was again blown away (pardon the pun) by his work and was introduced to Jeff Mack (currently my manager at the Toledo Museum of Art's Glass Pavilion). the following year Elio came to visit Bowling Green again and I was by that time at a level where I could lend a hand. Even though I was still a novice in the hotshop, he made me feel like I knew what I was doing and was very encouraging. In the spring of 2009 he visited Bowling Green for the last time. Again I was able to lend a hand while he was working, as well as create a relationship with Jeff Mack based on Venetian work that has continued to this day. While Elio was working, I told him in my best italian, I had been studying the last year in college for this very reason, that I was due to be married in August of that year. Over the course of a few goblets he agreed to make our champagne flutes. That summer the GAS Conference was held in Corning and while walking toward the museum, Elio yelled to me and my soon to be wife to congratulate us again, all be it a little early. The GAS Conference of 2009 was the last time I saw Elio before his passing. Since that last demo I watched and before, I have been studying Venetian glass with Jeff Mack who had directly taken Elio as a mentor and now mentors me. I am sure that I would not be where I am now if it weren't for the generosity of Elio and his kind heartedness in teaching the Venetian techniques to preserve this history that I am now a part of professionally.
Steven Harrie
The rich tradition and awe-inspiring skills shared by Elio Quarisa, carries on through our understanding of how these magical Ventian objects are made.
Steven Harrie
Steven Harrie
David Russell
David Russell
I had the privilige of studying with Elio more than a few times. The comradery bred in that first class along with the vast information that was brought forth compelled me to study with him more and more in the coming years. Elio had always said how glass had taught him how to live life outside of the shop. Over time while he was teaching and sharing with us, it was us, his students that were learning how a glass master works in and out of the shop and how to shape our trajectory accordingly. When we would gather outside of the studio we would all discuss our lives back home and the things we enjoy apart from glass. It was like a personal, intimate, cultural exchange where Elio was as interested in your origins as you were in his. It was never long before wide eyed students veered the talk back towards his incredible glass history. Factory stories from his childhood all the way through the stories of being caught working for factories in the black after retirement, Elite comes to mind, Elio was enriching us with a dose of culture and technical skill that was unrivaled. Perhaps my greatest and most influential moment with Elio was just before my last class with him and on the way to Corning we ran into each other in the philly airport. I had opened my own hot shop since last I had studied with Elio and was eager to show him my promotional materials for the upcoming Baltimore and Philly shows. With Adrianna and his daughter we all sat down for a meal and begun to discuss my images and body of work. After studying with Elio several times over the past years it was with great pride that I showed him my body of work. That conversation with its compliments and advice still resound with me and rudder me to this day and will stay with me forever. Thank you maestro! And thank you Adrianna and The Studio at Corning.
David Russell
Amy Schwartz
The thing that impressed me most about Elio was his ability to inspire his students. When he was teaching at The Studio in Corning, he was always with his students, both in class and outside of class. I remember seeing tall Elio surrounded by a group of students, all happily walking together. Elio shared his strong glassblowing technique and his many Venetian-style tricks freely with his students. We are all grateful for the time he spent teaching here at The Studio.
Amy Schwartz
Ethan Bond-Watts
Il Maestro Mio
Ethan “Eta” Bond-Watts
Elio on The Allegory of the Animals
“Proud, very proud,” Elio pulls back his shoulders and puffs up his chest. He lowers his chin, “but humble, always humble.” He is modeling the “drago,” the dragon that carries the cup on so many of his goblets. “For the swan,” he continues, “multo delicato,” this time it's in the hands and wrists. He makes two dainty A-OK’s, and tilts them up as he lowers his arms, forming two tiny winglets at his waist. I am amazed at how convincingly a muscular 70-year-old Italian man can go into character as the mythological archetype of femininity and grace. “Please... I show you,” he silently whips an iron out of the pipe warmer. He takes his gather, the light and heat of the furnace make his face glow.
Elio on Glass for Everyone
“Too expensive,” he looks over the price list accompanying his stunning collection of goblets, candelabra, and sculpture displayed on top of the CMOG Studio’s big belly toploader in HotShop A. “Today... more small, less decoration.” For Elio, that means only one creature, four flowers, and two frilly bits on the decanter. It means a two handle optic stem on his mezzo-stampo goblet. It means only a six-bar cage entrapping the swan on his hipped chalice. As the students, both his and those of his colleagues, quietly buy up his pieces over the next few days, they find that there is a gorgeous piece they can afford, whatever their budget. Even more quietly, he slowly gives away all the little animals he’s made before class, during lunch, whenever there’s a free moment on a bench, to the kids sitting in the bleachers. “It’s nice for everyone to have glass,” he explains to me, “for beauty, for inspiration.” He hands a little snail to a young man who has been hovering over the annealer display for half an hour. “Don’t tell,” he says to the young man, “please, enjoy.”
Elio on Seizing Opportunity
“For six weeks I watch him make the piece,” Elio remembers, of his experience as a young assistant at Barovier & Toso. “One day, my maestro no show up for work. The boss at the fornace look at the bench and he scratch his head,” Elio shows us what he means. “I go to him and I say, ‘I am young, but I have been assistant on this piece for six weeks. Let me show you how I can make it.’ When my maestro show up the next day for work, the boss say, ‘Elio is making this piece now, this is his bench, now you have a bench over there.’” Elio recounts the story with pride. “I was very nervous, but I showed very relaxed. You must show relaxed, and focus very hard.”
Elio on Mistakes and Personal Integrity
“You will be in charge of the garage,” Elio’s hand is on my shoulder, his face is uncomfortably close to mine. I don’t know whether it is an Italian difference in the size of the personal bubble, or if he means to convey the importance and intimacy of the critical and unglamorous post he is assigning me.
“I’ll do a good job,” I say with a hard swallow.
“Don’t let anybody else touch it,” he continues, “it is your responsibility alone.” I nod affirmative. He nods too, and whips around to attend to the day’s preparations. I walk a slow circle around the massive and elaborate annealing garage that Harry Seaman, CMOG’s prodigious shop manager, has recently fabricated to Elio’s specifications. Venturi burner, check, dual chimneys, check, two sets of doors within doors within doors, a chain driven turntable, thermocouples all over the place, check, check, check. “Okay,” I think, “show relaxed and focus very hard.”
The obsessive compulsive brain circuitry kicks in, and for the next few days, every thirty seconds I think of the annealer. I wake up under the threadbare sheets of the Days Inn, “drago... what’s the garage temp? Oh yeah, it’s the middle of the night.”
At the end of the week, just as I think I have gotten the hang of the garage, I return from dinner to find every door completely closed, my elaborate system of radiation and drafts is undermined. The sailor in my mind’s ear lets loose the worst of his four letter assessments as I run up to check the temperature. *!?#, 1,300 degrees ;*%@, =^&$!!!!!!!! I throw open the doors, and the worst is confirmed. A long day of the maestro’s brilliant work is reduced to a single fused slumber party of birds, dragons, and horses on a bed of wilting flowers.
My first reaction is the classic American reaction. “There must be someone I can blame for this!” I race around the studio, “who closed the doors?... Who closed them?...” Luckily no one owns up to it, and I am forced to deal with the situation for what it is, an honest mistake that led to lost glass, with my hand on the tiller. I find the TA, Matt Urban, and bring him up to speed. With Elio gone for the evening, we decide to consult with his dear friends and colleagues Shin-ichi and Kimiake Higuchi, who are teaching pate-de-verre down the hall.
“It is just too bad,” Kimiake says. “But someone must take full responsibility this. And you should tell Elio as soon as you can.”
“Classic Japanese response,” I think, “funny, my first reaction was just the opposite. Defer, deflect, deny: the three D’s of personal responsibility.” “Of course, you’re right,” I say to Kimiake, “Thank you.” We exchange a little bow, and Matt Urban and I walk back to the hot shop to strategize how we will break the news to our Maestro.
We knock on the door of Elio’s hotel room. “Mattyu, Eta,” he greets us with a smile. His room is warm and humid from a hot shower. It smells of European cologne. Elio looks good enough to hop on a private jet. College basketball is humming on the TV, “Please, what’s wrong,” he can read it on our faces right away.
“Drago, sleeping,” Matt says.
Elio knows what he means right away. For a moment, his head falls with a sigh... Just as quickly, he picks it back up. “Okay, it’s okay. Please, not this long face,” he says to me as he pulls his own face into a frown with his hand. “When I was assistant in Murano, my maestro had thirty goblets in garage, my responsibility, all slump. I look like this,” he grabs my face with both hands. “Tomorrow I tell Harry and tell the class, ‘no one touch the garage but Eta.’ Okay? Okay.”
He does.
Elio on Confronting Fear
“When I was very young in Murano, I would help to prepare the fornace very early in the morning. It was the war, and sometimes the lights would be dark so the airplanes could not see the city.” As Elio recounts his earliest memories, I can’t believe my ignorance of the history.
“It was very scary for me,” he continues. “Everything was dark, and there were big shadows from the fornace. But the people around me were very brave, so I was brave too.”
Elio on Innovation in Glass
“The piece was very beautiful, but it took a very long time,” Elio is describing a giant luminaire he used to make at Barovier & Toso. “One day, I say to the designer, ‘Look, we open from the bottom, and no need to punty. We blow it thin here and no need to trim.’ The designer say ‘fine,’ and now we make three or four more pieces in a day. The boss was very happy.
“The glassblower who makes the piece always knows the better way to make the piece. He makes the work, he wants to make it better, faster.”
Elio on Travel and Home
Elio speaks four languages. Italian, English, French, and Spanish. He can use them all in the same conversation, in the same sentence. “You should travel the world,” he says, “but you should live where you are from. That is your home, your culture. You will never be at home in the same way anywhere else.”
Elio on Learning Glass
“You learn from your maestros,” Elio says. “You should have many maestros. You take a little bit from here, and a little bit from here, and a little bit from here.” He is picking imaginary berries with his right hand and placing them into his left hand. “And you have all of this, and you have something that is you and your own. That is your style.”
Elio on Courtship
Elio and I are walking west on Market Street in downtown Corning, toward the setting sun. He is incredulous that I don’t have a girlfriend. “Eta, please. You are young, you should have a girlfriend.” He continues, “when I was young in Venice, the boys, my friends and I, we walk the promenade along the canal like this.” He casually strolls, chest out, hands in his pockets, eyes relaxed. “The girls would walk like this.” He walks the other direction, hands folded in front of him, a little sway in his hips, “and we would pass. If you saw someone you liked, you smile at them. They smile back. The next day, your friend talks to their friend and says, ‘my friend likes your friend. Maybe she likes him too.’ And then you meet, and you walk the canals, and then she is your girlfriend.”
“I guess I’m a little shy,” I half laugh, remembering the cool bravado, tight jeans, and slick hair of the gangs of Venetian boys I had seen during my month in Venice the previous winter.
“Please, I show you.” He turns toward the window of a little boutique, “You see her? Very beautiful, right?” A gorgeous young woman is cleaning glass on the shelf in the store.
“Of course,” not knowing what I am getting into.
“Please,” he says, as he opens the door for me. Despite full cardiac arrest, I slink into the store with the Maestro right behind me. We browse for less than a minute before he engages her. “Good afternoon, the glass is very beautiful. I am a glass blower from Italy, this is my assistant, Eta.” He turns to me.
“How’ya’doin, good’to’meetchya, beautiful stuff,” I manage to squeak out.
Elio continues, “Eta told me the glass is very beautiful, but you are more beautiful. Eta?” looking back to me.
“Heh...” I smile awkwardly, I can hear my heart pound in my forehead, “everything is beautiful here,” my face fire engine red at this point. She smiles, and blushes a little too.
“Thank you very much,” Elio breaks the silence, “I hope we will see you soon.”
“Hopefully,” she says. Elio leads me out the door, my ears ringing.
Back on Market Street, I am grateful for the cool air and open sky. I have barely caught my breath when we see three young women approaching from the other direction. Elio nudges me on the arm in a way that I am sure they notice, and know involves them. He tucks his left arm casually into the small of his back, lifting his chest at the same time. It sets him up for a graceful little bow as we move into conversational distance with the young women.
“Escus’e me’e,” he says, Italian accent extra thick for the special occasion, “please, do you have the time? Eta, please translate.”
“Your speaking english,” I laugh, and turn to our new friends, “do you know what time it is?”
“Almost five,” one says. “You guys aren’t from around here, are you.”
“I am from Venezia,” Elio’s english back up to speed, “and my friend is from Vermont. We are visitors, glass blowers. Please, what is fun for young people to do in the evening here? For my friend Eta.”
The chat is under way. We end up exchanging phone numbers and promises of meeting up later in the week. Elio never lets his posture or smile fade. He says “farewell,” with another little bow, and as we continue past them, strolling west down the promenade, he pulls that left arm out from the small of his back and lets it drop to his side, his watch hanging gracefully from his wrist.
Elio on The Future of Glass
Elio is like a proud uncle, leafing through the pictures. “Ah,” he says, “very beautiful.” He is flipping through my portfolio and stops on a big, colorful installation of glass swooshes hanging on stainless wires. “The history of glass is Venice,” he says, “but the future of glass... I think it is America.” He continues through the images, “and this one,” he has stopped on filigrana goblets, “just like Murano.” I know he is flattering me and I don’t care.
“You are my maestro,” I throw it right back at him. “Just like you taught me.”
He hands the folder back to me. “You are my student. And now you will make the glass. And in the future, you will be the teacher and you will have students. You will teach for them like I teach for you. This is how we learn glass in Venice for a thousand years.” He pauses to let it sink in. “Now, it is your turn, in America.” He smiles, with pride, with humility.
Terri Sigler
Ethan Bond-Watts
John Volpacchio
I received an e-mail from a friend in Italy the other day saying that I should come to Murano and open up a glass studio. He said that “things are not good.” Then I thought of Elio and the six hundred year tradition of glass there. I see Elio’s smile, I hear his voice, and I visualize his graceful movements and calm demeanor, even when constructing the most difficult of goblet compositions.
I first met Elio through an introduction by Dino Rosin. I was staying with some friends in Vicenza, about an hour away from Venice. Elio and Adriana drove his car to pick me up. They stayed for lunch, and of course the highlight for me was Elio’s lively political debate with my friend’s father. We drove back to Venezia Mestre to take the ferry to Murano. Elio took me to a refurbished monestary where I would live for two months while I worked at the Signoretto Furnaces. Elio visited often, and we would talk about my plans to start a glass program at Salem State University. We even watched the Italian soccer team play in the world cup on T.V. Elio was so excited and alive. His passion for his countrymen was evident as the Azzurri went on to win.
Elio was a classical glass artist. Not only was he a master of the material, he was also a true gentleman. Elio could see beyond the surface, and truly understood the essence of one’s soul and work.
I took five classes from Elio, mostly at The Studio at Corning. In addition, he visited Salem State twice for one week workshops. One of his proudest moments was when we presented him with the University’s first ever lifetime achievement award in the arts. I was honored to share with the community aspects about all of my experiences with Elio. Elio was not just a mentor to me as a glass artist, but also as a human being. I learned just as much about life from him as I did about glass. I told the crowd the story of how I was down and out, and I was losing most of my money in the stock market crash. Elio advised me to sell, sell, sell, and get out. I did not take his wise advice, and as a result I lost more money. Elio also gave me balanced advice as I was getting divorced, and supported me throughout many difficult times. He told me to take better care of myself, and things would work themselves out. Again he was right on target.
The first visit to the University was classic Elio. He impressed everyone with his mastery of the material, and virtuoso style. The elegance and grace of the goblets he created was stunning. His second visit the following year was different. I was frustrated with the sales of my work, and I asked Elio to teach me how to make more money. He was happy to oblige, teaching me a variety of new techniques and forms. We made witches, sailboats, hearts and all kinds of critters. This truly defines Elio’s versatility as a glass maestro. Since then, these items have become my best sellers. This visit also included a four day visit to Josh Simpson’s studio in Western Massachusetts. Elio was excited to be collaborating with one of America’s premier glass artists. They were a dynamic duo, and they created some astronomical pieces. As I drove with Elio for three hours each way, we talked about many subjects in Italian.I saw another side of Elio on this journey There was always wisdom conveyed through the stories he would share with me about his life. I could never imagine moving to France to make thousands of glass baby doll eyes. This must have driven him crazy, but he saw the big picture of survival, and providing for his family. I know that he always wanted to learn and be the best that he could be. This is the true lesson for all of us.
I agree with all of the expressions of gratitude and sincerity of others thoughts on how Elio has touched their lives. Elio was a teacher’s teacher. He was a good friend. Elio can never be replicated, but his classes and many students that he inspired will live on. Mille grazie, Elio. You will always be a part of me.
Ciao,
Giovanni
Marc Barreda
John Volpacchio
Marc Barreda
John Volpacchio
Jussi Sistonen-Lonnroth
When I started glass blowing in February 2012 I had no idea what to expect from glass as a material or glass artist community around it. World of glass was totally new thing for me. Only thing I knew when looking delicate and beautiful goblets in Rakow library books or CMoG showcases while visiting there first time was pure overwhelming appreciation on solid craftsmanship that could produce something so astonishing beautiful. After spending several sessions in Hot glass show watching that magic when glass change form and shape by gaffers effortless commands made me try glass blowing.
I had dreamed one day making my own perfect wine glasses and when entering my first glass blowing class I realized while struggling with first bubbles and tumblers how far away that idea was from reality and how much hard work and practice it would require. Somehow achieving didn’t feel important I just kept enjoying learning working with glass and sharing same passion with other people in glass community. While spending more time practising and taking more glass blowing classes that wineglass dream stayed alive and while following this path I had stepped on when starting glass blowing I don’t know where it will lead me but these first steps has felt right ones.
Quite often during my short career with glass blowing I have returned to watch those beautiful goblets and other pieces in CmoG showcaes and Rakow library books and only lately I have noticed that those goblets I have liked most were made by Elio Quarisa. His colour usage proportions between different elements and general form language has been affecting my thinking about goblets and glass vessels and they form and function. Maybe someday I can do those perfect wine glasses I have dreamed about.
Yuri Okamoto
One of the biggest take aways and life lessons that I have learned from Elio from taking his 2-week class in Corning was to never give up and to have sheer persistence.
During his class, when the top part of piece was cracked when it was put into his special annealer, instead of giving up and remaking a new piece, Elio decided to pick up the piece, take off the cracked part, and repaired the piece. Unfortunately, it was cracked again when it was put into the annealer. He repeated this 3 times. I felt strongly his hidden message the importance of sheer persistence. It would have been easier to remake a new piece but he showed me that sometimes it is not about efficiency and ease.
Elio also taught me the importance of respecting tools. Elio said "Every time" when he put his tools into dedicated pouches after cleaning them with dried cloth. I felt very close connections with Japanese culture because we emphasize the importance of taking good care of tools.
I am very fortunate to be able to take his class and to feel and see glass blowing from a true maestro with such a high standard of professionalism.
Grazie Elio!
Nicholas "Skitch" Manion
Eilo was a true teacher whom taught me more then just traditional glassmaking techniques. He was able to show his students that there was more than just skill in glass, that there was also a lifestyle and a way of thinking around glass. He was able to teach how to plan your process out in your head and work through your methodology. Seeing how he breaks down the process in making his cups in his head, has been priceless. I was able to take this knowledge that he gave me, and apply it to any technique in glass. He changed my way of thinking about glass, and that through the proper thought process, it is possible to teach yourself how to make anything.
He showed his students that even when making complicated pieces like a Reticello goblet, chandelier parts or even a recreation of work he made 35 years ago, that learning to control your stress was important. This is something that many glass teachers struggle to get across. Very few have been able to. Elio was one of the only people who taught this well. Before Elio came into my life, I struggled making things because my emotions got in the way. He taught me how to work past that.
I helped him make some of his last cups he ever made. I do not usually consider myself a goblet maker, but as a glass blower, I was able to recognize that he was a true Venetian glass Maestro. Traditional glass blowing in Venice is team process. He showed me how to work in a team, whether its with someone you have never meet before, or someone you have been working with for 10 years.
The tools that Elio taught were ones that most people are unable to because of his intense amount of experience. The lessons that I learned from him are not just ones to be used in the studio, but in my entire life.
Ethan Bond-Watts
Yuri Okamoto
Nicholas "Skitch Manion
Marc Barreda
I walked into the shop and was confronted by a great man, beaming. The twinkle in his eye glistened more crisply than the glint from the gold chain around his wrist. Both were there for a purpose, and that purpose was associated with the material glass. He told me he was given that bracelet when he retired from the factory. That memento marked a stopping point but not an end. Elio shared without end. He pulled his bench right up to the glory hole with just enough room for him to fit; stand up, sit down. His great hands commanding the glass with the delicacy of a surgeon; the grace and dexterity of an entire orchestra. He shared a tradition to so many of us. His actions took the oeuvre of Venetian glass and opened it up. He shared the process exactly as it has been practiced for hundreds of years. And then he deconstructed it, reversed it, and scrambled it. He showed us a thousand ways to achieve the same end with precision and intention. His descriptive gestures, his simple words gave light to subtlety, to detail. A lifetime of refinement distilled into every moment.
I took two classes with Elio. Each time a community surrounded him. A community I recognized in the hunger that we shared. Wide-eyed and eager we were all there to gain knowledge and comradery. Elio was an endless resource for both as he filled long days with answers and questions, exploring knowledge and interaction through practice as a lifestyle.
I’ve been interested in the glass from the Venetian tradition since I started working with the material. Elio cemented my experiences together unifying history, tradition, and craftsmanship with personality and sent me on a path that has helped define my career as a glassmaker and an artist. A master is identified by his perception and ability with a material and its process. He is also defined by his role in relationship to his counterpart: the pupil or apprentice. Our master, Elio Quarisa, was human and yet his perception superceded ours. He could see into the material as he could into people in ways that I have yet to learn. He continues to challenge me and to teach me to surpass my limitations.
Grazie Maestro.
Yuri Okamoto
Nicholas "Skitch" Manion
Bruce Ferguson
I met Elio when taking a class in February 2004. Though Adrianna translated most of the time, the first thing he did when walking into the studio was introduce himself to all of us individually and repeat our names as we introduced ourselves. He could have just started working or laid out the manner in which the class would progress, or left the introductions to his wife. Instead, he chose to put the interpersonal relationship first. That was our first clue that he was there to share, not just make glass. The others in the class were more skilled, so I just hung out rather than jump in and risk messing up a piece. I soon found out that wasn’t the way to get the most out of his class. While the requests were coming for more and more fancy techniques, he had Adrianna call me over to the bench and asked what I would like to see. I told him something basic and simple so I could improve my skills after he left. He started building a simple goblet on the blow pipe and after the transfer to the punty handed it to me and said to finish it. I was so nervous I hit the yoke too hard with the iron and it was a floor model. It didn’t break though, so Elio picked it back up on the punty and gave it back for me to try again. That was my introduction to his “No Problem” attitude and dealing with whatever comes your way. I can think of a lot of teachers who would have never given a klutz another shot much less coaching him along.
A couple of years later I took a class from him again and knew to jump in if I wanted to learn. He wasn’t bothered if things weren’t going smoothly, he just made it all work. It was the first time I’d seen a finished goblet, when at one time or another, ALL of the components had been on the floor. It didn’t even matter when the annealer was left too hot and pieces slumped. He’d show us how to bring them back up to temperature and work them all over again (easier said than done – check the inset pic of the curved spring stem). It was during this class that I began to appreciate more what he was experiencing teaching in another country. During one demo he wasn’t quite satisfied with something he’d done and muttered to himself as he went to reheat. There was a student from another class observing who spoke fluent Italian. He responded to Elio and it took a couple of moments for it to register. Elio’s face lit up like a child at a party and he began talking non-stop. Who knew he was such a chatterbox! They talked the rest of the day about everything under the sun, not just glass. It made me realize his passion and joy extended beyond just making glass, but to sharing his knowledge with others. Even if it meant dealing with somewhat of a language barrier. It certainly would have been easier on him to have the students adjust to another language instead of him. He treated that just like the goblet on the floor – No Problem. If the words wouldn’t come, then a gesture or drawing would do the job. I don’t think any of us remember him just for a special technique or a spectacular piece he made. That would be a shame. What he showed us wasn’t just for incorporating into a body of work. It was putting your passion and joy into what you do and sharing with others. It didn’t require a Primo Maestro; it took a really good guy showing how to get the most out of life.
Carina Cheung
Robert Comploj
Elio was a fun guy! Especially when I was flying with him back to Europe. He wanted to come to Austria for teaching but only when i serve him good food! That was the most important thing for him :) GOOD FOOD!
Also important for him was a good drink.
When I took his 2 week class, sometimes we went out for dinner and he always had to have his "Dr Pepper" drink. He loved it! The best thing was, in the States u can drink as much as u can and you only had to pay once!!
WE LOVED IT.
He showed me HOW to blow glass
Gathering glass with a cold pipe and than make a goblet out of it :)
Gathering glass - when there was a bubble in it - throw it back in the furnace and at the same time gather new glass.
It was fantastic!
We miss you Elio! Thank you for all the fun!!! :)
Bruce Ferguson
Carina Cheung
Pat Frost
Working with Elio was a incredible privilege. There is no other glass maker that I know of that had the same passion for the material, I remember hearing Elio say how glass was magic and he really believed that was true. His years of experience made for an vast understanding of the glass making process. And the way that he worked with the glass was very natural and wonderful to watch. All who have had the experience to truly study with Elio have came away with a new understanding of how to blow glass. Everyday in the shop there were moments which dramatically changed your way of thinking about glass. Many glass makers with such knowledge would keep their tricks closely guarded secrets. Elio embraced the idea of sharing his love and knowledge for glass. He proved that sharing is the only way to keep the traditions alive and to advance the progress of glass as an art form. For me I also learned many other lessons that were important for the Maestro. The importance of hard work, drawing, study, being a gentleman, and believing in the magic. Although I greatly miss Elio I still feel that he is with us every day that we work, and the short time in our lives that overlapped made a great deal of difference in my future. He has given fueled my ambitions, designs, and proven that there are no boundaries. These lessons stay with me and give me the courage to pursue glass with the faith that if I can make Elio proud of what I create, and remember his lessons about life, that success will surely follow.
Bruce Ferguson
Carina Cheung
I never fully realized the profound impact that Maestro Elio Quarisa had on my glassblowing career until I found myself sitting next to my teacher the day before he passed away. When I heard that Elio was not doing well in December 2010, I visited him at the hospital. Despite his weak condition, Elio still greeted me with the same light and smile, and we just sat there together as I held both of his hands. It was in that last moment I had with him that I truly understood what I learned from him: love for glass, dedication to teaching, lightness of heart, perseverance, and respect. Perhaps that moment was the passing of the torch, and seeing Elio off has served as an impetus to reassess my own purpose with glass.
I met Elio during a tough period in my life, the summer of 2005 at the CMOG workshop, shortly after my grandmother had passed away from lung cancer; I only share this as it was ironically the same path for him. Elio’s zealous energy, love, and playfulness with glass revitalized me quickly, and offered what my soul had been longing for—a passion to work with a magical molten material. It was then that I knew that I wanted to learn more from him firsthand in Murano, as he had learned as a boy in the glass factories.
Elio’s love for glass transcended all facets of life as he dedicated his time to impart all his glassblowing knowledge to willing learners. I remember how he took the time to explain and write out all of the Venetian terms for the tools on a large piece of paper. Glass was still so fresh to me, and it was there that my love for Venetian goblet making blossomed and offered me solace. Elio was like a grandfather to us all, being present to mentor everyone in the class. During his demonstrations, it did not matter if the piece was crooked or broken, because he always found a way to fix it. He was never afraid of making a mistake, nor did he ever get upset when something went wrong. He would just shrug it off and would say, “It’s okay.”
Elio made a lasting impression on my passion for Venetian glassblowing. In 2006, my determination and hard work granted me the opportunity to work with Elio again as his assistant in Murano, while he was working at the Scuola di Vetro Abate Zanetti. I was always amazed at how he could effortlessly put on an avolio and connect the goblet and stem together, and be willing to accept bits and blown feet from me, an assistant who was still learning. His overwhelming wealth of knowledge was so awe inspiring, it made it seem like anyone could learn how to make fish, dragons, swans, mezzastampo, and reticello goblets with ease. Whenever I make swans or reticello bowls, I recall the lessons, the lightheartedness, and the passion that Elio imparted in me. Elio was a creator and had a unique dialogue with glass. I appreciated his relaxed demeanor in making and in repairing things, and how comfortable he made me feel around glass.
The path of a glass maker requires years of dedication, hard work, and practice. Through my continued experiences as an unpaid apprentice in Murano, I have learned that working with glass is more than a reflection of technique; it is an acute awareness of the material and the time that is invested to understand and to perfect the skills. Elio instilled in all of his students that same love for glass, with hopes that we would each create our own stories. I intend to carry on the tradition of Venetian glassmaking in the same caliber of workmanship, with the mutual respect, exchange of ideas, and spontaneity that Elio shared with us all.
The set of tools kindly given by Roberto Doná, proprietor of Carlo Doná, on behalf of his friend Elio, will certainly facilitate me in continuing the traditions of Venetian glassblowing. Throughout the years, my focus has largely been put towards building my skills and acquiring new techniques. Now it is time to begin to carve out my own artistic path by investing in the proper tools that will take me to the next level. I still believe that it is not the tools that make the creator, but what the creator can do with the materials at hand. Yet I know that quality tools are essential and will provide me with the long-sought opportunity to initiate the next phase of my own creative research in Venetian glassmaking. I trust that this set of tools will help me to carry on the practice of Venetian glass in hopes of inspiring others, just as Elio has done for me.
Pat Frost
Pat Frost
Cydney Ferguson-Brey
I met Elio when I was a fledgling glassblower, interning as a tech in Chicago. He was a joy to learn from, endlessly patient. I'll always remember him pulling on his own lips to demonstrate how to properly shape a dolphin's mouth. With his lifetime of training and practice, Elio was the embodiment of the Venetian tradition. His selfless sharing of technique with students was amazing to me, in a profession where so many artists jealously guard the secrets of what they do. As an aspiring professor, I learned so much about how to relate to students from him. As a glass artist, he was always an extraordinary example of humility.
Jon Goldberg
Jon Goldberg
I do not need these tools, please award them to someone who does. However I do want my experiences with Elio memorialized.
A turning point in my artistic development was a class at CMOG with Maestro Elio Quarisa in 2004. Although I learned many techniques during the class, the most important thing gained from Maestro Quarisa was confidence. During a casual conversation at lunchtime during the class, I mentioned that my dream of building a glass studio.
Rather than dwelling on the difficulties of such a venture, Maestro Quarisa encouraged me to move forward and build the studio. He then offered to come and teach after the studio was built. This gesture validated what previously had been a pipe dream and was a defining moment in my journey as a glass artist.
Spurred on by the courage Maestro Quarisa had given, in 2006 I founded a public-access glassblowing studio, East Falls Glassworks, which has grown to be a focal point of the Philadelphia glass community. The studio continues to be a place where many glass artists create their work and learn from each other. It also makes glass accessible for the greater community through classes and public demonstrations.
Maestro Quarisa visited the studio and taught a master class the first year the studio was in operation and twice returned to teach over the next few years.
Nikolaj Christensen
Elio Quarisa actually had an impact on our studio long before it was even in existence; truth be told, he was an integral part of how it came to be. The story begins in 2004 when Jon Goldberg, the eventual founder of East Falls Glassworks, Philadelphia's only public access studio, took Elio's class at Corning. Jon had gotten interested in glass about 5 years earlier and it was during Elio's class that he learned not just about how a true maestro creates those venerable old venetian goblets, but also about the great joys of teaching. It was through experiencing Elio's enthusiasm firsthand that the idea was planted for starting a teaching facility in Philadelphia. Before long, this idea became East Falls Glassworks, the shop which I have managed for almost 5 years. In that time, we have had the pleasure of Elio leading two masterclasses (as the first guest instructor the studio had shortly after its opening in 2006 and again in 2009) and it was with much sadness that we posted the news of Elio's passing 2 years ago to the month. Needless to say, he made a lot of friends through sharing his expertise with students who still, in turn, share stories about the man. I have a couple of my own (and an autographed t-shirt to go with a particular story that I will always remember as long as I remain a glassblower) and we are proud to host a couple pages on the website that honor his memory (www.eastfallsglass.com/elio.php), as well as showcase examples of his work in our office on permanent display.
I am writing to request consideration for the set of tools that Mr. Dona has created and generously donated, not directly for myself, but on behalf of the East Falls Glassworks and it's students, to whom the tools will be made available. There are certainly other professionals who are more worthy, if measured on technical merit alone, than the students who come through our doors and struggle with avolios, blown feet, various bits, and all the other difficult aspects of goblet making... however, I can guarantee these tools will be well used and will keep alive the spirit of a man who most enjoyed seeing talent as it was developing (not to mention a good joke).
We have a host of great pictures of Elio Quarisa in action, but the picture I'd like to include is the one that has ended the slideshow on our website homepage for years. This is one that, I think, really captures the nature of the man.
Ezra Hunt
The first time I had the privilege of working the Maestro Elio Quarisa was in 2000 at San Bernardino Valley College. I was amazed by the how easy he made it looked when he worked with the glass. His movement were so pure and true. His passion was infectious and he was eager to share the ways of venetian glassblowing. Elio returned to San Bernardino Ca. often over the years and each time I had the chance to work with him on many occasions and the opportunity to assist Elio with lots of goblets. Its because of Elio I have a thing for goblets. Elio taught me a lot about glassblowing and about life. He inspired me to put all my passion, heart, and body to my glass and to cherish every moment in the glass studio like it was my last.
Alexander Rosenberg
Elio Quarisa was the first person I ever saw blowing glass in the Venetian style. Before seeing him work, glass seemed to be an uncontrollable material that just kind of ended up in unplanned blobby shapes. I met Elio when he was demonstrating at San Bernardino Valley College where I was enrolled in a glass-blowing class. The shop was small and crowded and I couldn’t get very close to him, but I saw him making glass objects with skill and grace, using mathematically precise cane-patterns and hot applications to create incredible detail. I knew immediately this was the way I wanted to learn how to work with hot glass.
After his demonstration I collected some broken pieces of a discarded vessel and heated them up in attempt to recycle them. To my surprise, Elio was still hanging around the shop and when he saw me working alone (as was customary at the time in that studio), he sat down and helped me finish my piece. I was nervous to work in front of such a skilled craftsman, but he put me at ease quickly, reminding me to “be cool,” that if I moved in a graceful way, that grace would carry over into the work. I felt honored to bring home a vessel that had been shaped by his and my hands together.
This workshop helped me make the decision to study glass at RISD when I began studying there as an undergraduate in 2002. I practiced glassblowing intensely and with great frequency, often at odd hours before the studio was officially open or after it had closed for the evening. By my third year of college, I was relatively proficient at glass-making and was awarded a partial scholarship to take a summer course at The Studio at Corning MOG. I chose Great Venetian Goblets, with Elio Quarisa.
Elio’s teaching was extremely individualized. He focused on the specific strengths and weakness of each student and coached us while we practiced, encouraging us to try new things in different ways than we were used to. This class was a major technical turning point for me and it was Elio’s criticism that incited the change.
One day he approached me when I was practicing with my partner. In his unique combination of gesture, English and Italian, he communicated to me that I was getting to be decent at glassblowing, but unless I changed the way that I was getting in and out of the bench, I would never be able to move fast enough to get much better. He also pointed out that changing this would at first make it quite hard to produce the vessels I had become comfortable with, but over time, I would be able to surpass my previous abilities.
He was right. I began standing up and sitting down in the way he suggested, and I promptly began dropping everything I made on the floor when my pipe or punty would collide with the rail of the bench. It was incredibly frustrating but Elio offered only encouragement and I continued to work in this way until I got used to it. Soon, I was making things better than I ever had before.
Toward the end of the class, the flameworking instructor came into the studio and saw me working on a delicate clear beaker. He was impressed and went to get Elio to point it out. Elio agreed that it was very well-made and I was flattered to receive the compliment from my teacher. The next day I gave the cup to him. He smiled and put it into the garage. I was confused - I thought maybe he had misunderstood my intention and somehow thought I was asking for a demonstration. He went on with the morning’s demos, and when the cup I had made was sufficiently hot, he began making a delicate goblet stem and foot. He was brought the cup and he attached it to the stem. After retrieving the piece from the annealer the next day, he casually handed it to me, saying something to the effect of, “You gave this glass to me, now I'm giving it back to you.” and that was that.
Today I am a full-time glass professor, so I think about Elio often when I am demonstrating the techniques that he once (not so long ago) taught me. In my office at the university is a shelf holding two objects that he and I made together, marking two moments in my life when Elio had made a lasting impression on me.
Jon Goldberg
James Pingel
I feel lucky to have met Elio on a few occasions. The first was while taking his Venetian glass techniques class at Abate Zanetti in 2006 which opened my eyes to the possibilities of glass working by a true master. The ease and deliberateness of his motions to shape the glass, fast but not rushed, were amazing and even though he must have made those same goblets thousands of times before he always seemed to enjoy it none the less. He told us to always relax at the bench, sit up with good posture and be gentle with the glass to guide it to the right shape. I felt he had different respect for the glass than us or anyone I had worked with before- it basically was the history of Murano and his own as well. I say this now when thinking how a pained look would come onto his face if one of us abandoned a piece half way though, ditching it into the bucket because we were having trouble instead of trying to finish it though to a final piece. If a piece cracked, he would try to save it. If it dropped off the punty and didn't shatter, he would make the fastest punty I’d ever seen, pick it up, and hand it back to us. One of the students overheated a blown foot which collapsed onto itself making it undeliverable- Elio grabbed a pipe, gathered, blew, and almost magically presented a new foot to the waiting gaffer in what seemed like seconds. He pushed us to never quit, never give up, and always keep focused and working until the end. Decades of working in the glass factories, making thousands of pieces in repetition didn't dull his appreciation for any single piece as I would have thought. In fact, it was the opposite as he seemed to genuinely care about every piece and making sure it got finished and put away safely- not because our skill level allowed us to make anything even close in quality to his, but because I think he felt every bit of molten unformed glass taken from the furnace should be given the chance to fulfill its potential of becoming something better then it started as. I don’t want to sound overly dramatic, but it’s a feeling I never had in any other class.
The last time I saw Elio was autumn of 2010. A small group of us had traveled to Murano to blow glass at Abate Zanetti for a week. Before our studio week began, he and Adriana hosted us on their back patio for way too much wine and snacks while everyone caught up. They were such welcoming and unassuming hosts, making everyone feel truly welcome. We worked in the studio for a week and on the last day they dropped by to say hello and see the progress of some of his former students. As we were still nowhere near his skill level, you may imagine being observed by a true master during his surprise visit while trying to assemble a goblet was not the most relaxing of situations. After observing us for a while, he asked to take the bench not to blow glass but to teach us. He sat and simply rolled a pipe back and forth on the rails, repeating “Relax! No stress.” Sitting up with perfect posture, he rolled the pipe again, shaping the imaginary glass with the tools, “like this… always elegante, always tranquillo. Okay?” I always remember these words when working in the glass studio and often times while I’m not as I think his lesson applies to both the glass studio specifically and life as a whole. Thank you, Elio.
Ezra Hunt
Alexander Rosenberg
Lee Harris - "Homage to Elio"
Elio inspired me as a person, to accept life as it is, to love people.
He taught me to that when I am blessed to work in glass...to enjoy the moment, to listen to the glass.
By example-the importance of body posture..."Lee, Elegante, Relax"!
I miss, but will always picture his reassuring smile-his joy of sharing food, art, life!
Ciao, Elio!
James Pingel
Ezra Hunt
Jonathan Yao
Murano is miserable in July, but I would choose no other place to have spent it back in 2005. This is where I met Elio for the first time, taking a goblet class from him at La Scuola del Vetro Abate Zanetti. It is said that the true skill of a craftsperson is that they are able to make very difficult techniques look effortless. In that respect, Elio was Mr. Cool. He was a glassblowing version of The Fonz. If things broke or went wrong, it only took a couple of bits or a visit to the garage for him to fix it.
Elio created an environment where everyone was welcome to gather around his bench and soak up the decades of experience he was so eager to share. Goblets can be very intimidating objects to make, yet he finessed them into being with an ease and familiarity that was inspirational to all, and made the techniques actually seem approachable. This was one of the great advantages he had as a teacher. It encouraged all of us in his class to push ourselves and tackle techniques that were probably a little over our heads at the time. Up to that point, I had never learned so much in such a small amount of time. This was the moment that took my material understanding of glass to the next level and has inspired my art making ever since.
I returned from Italy refreshed, inspired, and ready to make the most of my last semester at San Francisco State University. I began incorporating traditional goblet making techniques in my conceptual art practice, usually in non-traditional forms. Taking a variety of influences from my experience in Italy (Baroque and Rococo reliquaries, Muranese glass-making tradition, the tourist economy, monuments and landmarks, and Venice itself), I created delicate works dealing with issues of history, religion, material, imprisonment, celebration, and decay.
Although my experiences with Elio were brief, few, and far between, he has played a huge role in shaping my approach to glass object making and my artistic practice. I will always be grateful for having spent those two weeks in Murano with him.
Matthew Urban
The first time I watched Elio work was on the island of San Servolo outside Venice in 2001. I was taking a class there and Elio came in one afternoon to do a demo. He worked up a large dragon stem goblet, reheating in the furnace, he knocked it out quick and easy, I was hooked. I was able to take my first class with Elio the following winter 2002 at the Studio. It was Elio's first class at Corning and we had a good group of students. Elio's first demo right out of the gate was the Guggenhiem cup with an assistant who did not speak Italian and Elio spoke very little if any English at that time. Now you can see that on youtube, nobody was making them then, and especially not in a workshop situation. The students and I in that class were picking out, from books, what we thought were the most difficult cups to make and Elio was making them like he ran production on them all. When the five day class was over I had seen so much my head was spinning. Up to this point I had taken workshops and mostly instructors would work in the comfort zone of their product line. Murano was Elio's production line, and it was with ease he would transition from old Salviati designs to Venini and Barovier and Toso designs. All you needed to do was open a book and point or do a chalk drawing on the floor and he was off to show you how it is done. I had taken numerous classes with Elio at the Studio always telling myself it was the last one, and he would always have profoundly new information from solving problems to different ways of assembly, to color application you name it, and that keep me coming back. One class that I took on incalmo, I wanted to make these Venini bottles so Elio made one in class. I tried it that evening failed miserably, I showed him what I had done the next day. He looked at me scratched his chin and proceeded to make the exact same bottle completely backwards from the way he had made it the day before and made the same object .This is when I realized Elio literally knew glassmaking backwards and forwards. Elio started in the factory while there were still wood burning furnaces on the island he watched the old masters, and I believe he worked to emulate the way they worked. What I mean is very little blocking and marvering, most work was made straight out of the furnace. He distilled the process down to the essence where it became a simple dialogue back and forth between he and the glass. I was fortunate enough to take five classes with Elio at the Studio and to assist him nine times in schools and studios across the midwest. The efficiency that Elio has taught me continues to inform my studio practice and enables my studio to survive. I still hear Elio's voice when I am at the bench guiding and reminding me of the tradition that was so much a part of him. I always realized and valued the time I had working with Elio Quarisa, it was for me, a real gift.
Jussi Sistonen-Lonnroth
Terri Sigler
Sustaining Venetian Tradition in Elio Quarisa Memory
Influences are conjurors and tricksters coming to us on the winds of various forms, and at the most inopportune times, often disguised as something small and insignificant, working their way into our souls in the dark recesses of our busyness. And so it was with me when I was gifted a glassblowing class from my husband. I didn’t have the time, with young children to tend, and a newfound convenient love of bead making, his plea for me to explore all areas of glass before committing completely to the art of glass beads seemed excessive; and so when I was gifted a glassblowing class for Christmas in 2005 little did I realize the path to Elio Quarisa had been set. Like water in the smallest crack that class worked into the sinews of my soul and one path led to another and another until now I find myself at a keyboard trying to articulate how a man I never met, has become so important to my sense of the creative spirit, the life lived courageously through art. Words of course are slippery little devils prone to go on permanent vacation when we need them the most, and so I seek the help of those that came before me to articulate what Elio represents to my path to a greater understanding of working within the flow of transitioning liquid thoughts to solid pieces of art.
D.H. Lawrence, the great Victorian poet said it far better than I ever could hope to in his poem “We are Transmitters”,
As we live, we are transmitters of life.
And when we fail to transmit life, life fails to flow through us…..
And if, as we work, we can transmit life into our work,
Life, still more life, rushes into us to compensate, to be ready
And we ripple with the life through the days……
And so it has been for me since that first class seven years ago. Way led on to way, of course, and I found myself in the Venetian-Style class of Bill Gudenrath, and in his teaching, and stories ‘life, still more life’, rushed into me. I was allowed through those stories to come along to Italy, to see how glass flowed from Italy to other parts of the world, to be in the room as Elio made the Dragon goblet again and again, to walk the streets of Murano, to hear Elio’s words of life growing up in Venetian factories, and to hear countless other meandering stories of Elio, Lino and many other Venetian Maestros and in those words something important was seeded in me. My desire to learn the Venetian craft became insatiable. Over the course of Bill’s class, and subsequently others, I spent hours and hours inside the walls of the Rakow Library pouring over texts, photographs and videos of the Venetian masters. And again, in the Corning Museum discussing and absorbing permanent and temporary Venetian collections. I have spent countless hours over the past five years building my own furnace and glory hole and at each roadblock asked myself how does its design and function lead me to becoming a better Venetian glass artist. I have to admit to some moments of doubt and to the occasional wandering of thoughts, “Did Elio have these problems when he worked with Harry in building the gas annealer at The Studio?” And time and time again with the help of Harry and Bill, my design became more refined, more crystal clear in its ability to lead me to becoming a better transmitter of the life I am pouring into my glasswork. I am proud to believe that through Harry, Bill and the greater Corning Community that Elio has touched my humble studio in my home. In the solitude of late night sessions I realize that the history of the Venetian glass resides within me in the life I put into my studio and that Elio contributed towards that life when he committed to ensure the Venetian glass tradition would not be lost, as members of the Murano’s glass community began to pass on, by teaching and becoming a Transmitter in the truest sense of D.H. Lawerence’s poem.
Even if a woman is making an apple dumpling, or a
Man a stool,
If life goes into the pudding, good is the pudding
Good is the stool
Content is the woman, with fresh life rippling in to her
Content is the man
I wonder would Elio be as content as I knowing that his teachings, transmitted through others have touched and led to so much happiness in a backyard homemade studio in Asheville, NC. Could he have ever known the unseen support that his invisible reach provided to the doubt that existed in someone who started late in life on the path of glass. That history, that unseen touch of a master since passed, is important to me and I would be humbled to work with the tools of Roberto Dona as I know the life of Elio has been put into those tools and that they will transmit that life in a way that I would honor on a daily basis.
Jonathan Yao
Matthew Urban
Jussi Sistonen-Lonnroth
Terri Sigler
Jonathan Yao
Matthew Urban
Eric Meek
Elio's greatest lesson for me - Whatever you bring into the shop will manifest itself in your glass. If you approach your work with passion, humility and respect great things will happen.
Eric Meek
DH McNabb
DH McNabb
DH McNabb
When I first met Elio Quarisa, I was quite green or naïve in my glass experience. In the summers between semesters at Centre College in Danville, Kentucky I would take classes at the Studio in Corning to expand what I knew, how I thought and what I made. I am deeply enamored and enchanted with Venetian glass. However, I am an American, a melting pot of travelers who came here to the United States starting in the 1600s. The work I make is set up and approached from what would be a Venetian perspective. I believe in making things new and learning from the past. Elio was someone who showed glass enthusiasts, and makers the past, specifically the golden age of Venetian glass. Dragons and Seahorses – Guggenheim’s and Veronese’s were all part of the dialog that swirls in the Venetian Lagoon.
A few years later I took another class with Elio, he had been to Pilchuck and his lore had spread. He was one of the maestro’s at Elite, the legendary goblet firm now defunct on Murano. I remember while taking the class and watching a demo that Beagles, a friend in the class, said to the rest of the class and Eric Meek the teaching assistant “ It wouldn’t surprise me if he took a piece of sheet glass on the marver and bent it”! That stuck with me – regardless of the challenge Elio never gave up. A piece would fall on the floor and he would put it in the garage, a piece would break in annealing and he would be pick it up again and fix it. He never stopped pushing the boundaries or limitations of self and material. What one knows is just the simple beginning. These moments along with others from many other glassmakers have influenced me as a maker and a thinker of glass.
I remember the last time I saw Elio, it was on Murano. In February of 2006 Chihuly sent a crew to Finland to work and I was a part of the crew. After the trip a friend and I traveled to Murano to work for a week. On the Island it was my goal to see Elio, as well. We were walking and stopped in one of the many places for a juice down from Venini. As I walked out there was Elio, tall and smiling. We shook hands, had a hug and talked. These are the fading memories I now have of a man who helped so many create beauty with glass.
I have now finished my Masters at RISD and am traveling around the country searching for work much as I did a decade ago when I met Elio at the Studio in Corning. In my thesis I came to the conclusion that it is not necessarily about what one can make, but what one can expose, and Elio exposed all of us to a lot.
Daniele Fratarcangeli
In 2008 after graduating from college, I flew to Murano and began an apprenticeship at the Abate Zanetti School of Glass. There I apprenticed under the direction of Elena Rosso, Vittorio Ferro, Livio Sereno and Elio Quarisa. I worked for each of these glass masters and learned a great deal about glassblowing. More importantly, I learned about the history of Murano, the Venetian language, and eventually I was able to work for Silvano Signoretto in his factory.
Working in the factory was such hard work. We made up to 12 chandeliers a day. I would get up at 5 in the morning and work harder then I had ever worked in my life for 30 euro a day. I would get burnt during production and had to grit my teeth and bare it while putting away chandelier parts. One day when coming home from work on Vapperetto I ran Into Elio who greeted me with a bright smile. He saw the soot on my face the burns on my arms and kind of laughed. He asked how long I planed on staying on Murrano. I told him, “as long as I could.”
He told me, “six months here (Murano) and you will make una sacca di soldi for the rest of your life.” His words encouraged me to stick through the hard work. I saw Elio several times after that. He always greeted me with a “Ciao DANIELE” and it is hard for me to imagine returning to Murano and not seeing Elio drinking an espresso at a local bar. The international glass blowing community was so lucky to share in the genies of Elio Quarisa.
I now design and fabricate modern chandeliers and teach glassblowing classes to students of all ages at the Fallbrook School of the Arts in San Diego California.
Daniele Fratarcangeli
Daniele Fratarcangeli
Submitted by Lee Harris
One day, a partner of Chicago Hot Glass came to me in a panick..."we have an opening for Maestro Elio Quarisa's workshop, and miscalculated the budget"! I smiled, though goblet's weren't my area of sculpting, agreeing to meet the shortfall, and attend this workshop. From the first moment of meeting Elio, and his wife Adriana, I knew I was in the presence of not just a great & passionate Maestro, but one who loved life, his wife, people.
My wife & I were asked if we could show Elio & Adriana Chicago, and immediately connected, like old friends. I was fortunate to spend many times (though not enough), at our homes in Murano & the US. Elio and I became something greater than friends, he was like the brother I always had envisioned. Many times, without speaking, we found we had the same thoughts, at the same time...could finish each others sentences.
One of the hardest things I've experienced, along with losing my father, was losing Elio.
On the one hand, I know a friendship, besides your spouse, is possibly something that happens once in your lifetime, if at all. And, times you experienced, profound & amazing as they are at the time, become benchmarks of your life. To me, each time with Elio was like that. I think of times, laughing with Elio, of watching him walk thru the streets of his beloved Murano, with anyone & everyone near him yelling out "Ciao, Elio", and knowing he then asked how they were, their family, friends, listening intently-to each word. Elio constantly demonstrated his passion-of glass, of life, for people.
I told Elio, if he ever ran for Mayor of Murano, he would win by a landslide!
So, now as we approach 2 years since losing Elio, I realize how fortunate I was, how fortunate we all were, for having Elio with us, as a teacher, husband, Maestro, friend. My heart still has the same heaviness as when Adriana told me that he had passed on, but the joy of knowing the place in my heart-where he lives, as with so many others he touched & loved him. He is in my mind when I'm working in glass, I hear him saying "Lee, easy, easy, breathe...elegante!", meaning, love the glass, relax, enjoy.
I think to the month before he passed away, how energetic he was, still, without anyone knowing his suffering & battle with cancer. I remember our visiting Roberto Dona, at Carlo Dona Tools watching Elio & Roberto conversing, like father & son, Elio's hand on Roberto's shoulder, with such concern...their laughter together!
Elio affected so many lives, from the aspiring future glass Maestro thru Maestro Pino Signoretto, who knew each other since children, to some of the last people to collaborate Elio...Josh Simpson, Dante Marioni (both speaking of him with reverence). Watching him on You Tube, assisting him, you share the feeling of being in the presence of a great person, a caring person, an unspoken Maestro of Maestro's.
I know Jeff Mack was right when he told me "I believe that Elio will live forever, that more & more people will look at his legacy, his work, earning him the place he so deserved"...a Maestro that comes around every few generations.
Elio's only request was to have his beloved Muranese Glass techniques, which he passionately learned & embraced, from 9 years old, not die with his generation, with the end of his life.
I know this, he repeated it to me many times, as his greatest hope.
To this I end..."Ciao Elio"-we love you, always will.
Submitted by Lee Harris
Elio pointing to the ancient gate on Murano-which I used for my logo-as Elio knew-in homage to him.
Submitted by Lee Harris
Elio with Roberto Dona -
Submitted by Harry Seaman
Elio was amazing. From the Venetian stemware and cane vessels to the small whimsies he would make, Elio never ran out of things to make and techniques to share. The Studio and I worked hard to create a comfortable atmosphere for him, and it was this desire that had us build our first gas annealer. We literally worked off a drawing on a napkin. Elio designed and used a turntable inside to adjust and tweak his stemware to perfection.
When watching him work, I never ceased to be amazed at how Elio could boil down the process to a few crucial steps. He worked casually, with a smile, and would happily take bits and help from the students only to wave them away half the time as they showed up too early or too late for what he needed. Working with Elio was fun. Often times we didn't dare take our eyes off the glass for fear we'd miss some nuance or hand movement. This only made us worse assistants, trying to gather and still watch what he was doing.
The image I am including is a small branch with a bird and 2 flowers, something Elio made and gave me after the gas annealer was finished. Even though he made a lot more stemware, he always had time to, without anyone knowing what the finished item would be, put together these little glass animals and constructions. These are something that I always found attractive, and the process, along with the subject, seemed a good symbol of freedom and pleasure in glass, and a good way of remembering Elio.
Tracy Weisel with Elio Quarisa
In 2004, my wife and I had the opportunity to go to Italy. Being a glassblower, there was no way that we would miss visiting Murano. Prior to the trip, I had gone to a workshop in California where Elio was showing his skills. Just before we left, a friend of mine said that he would send me Elio’s contact information in Murano. As it happened, I never received it before I departed for Europe. After arriving and settling in Venice on our first day, we made plans to go to Murano on our second day. We did the typical tourist things of going in and out of a couple of studios and galleries, and then decided to venture down some of the side streets. We basically got to a dead end and were turning around when someone started to speak to us in Italian. I’m sure we looked lost. As I looked into the eyes of the person speaking to us, I realized it was Elio. He didn’t personally know me or my wife, but my friend Jim Stewart from CA was a friend of his so I mentioned his name. Elio’s eyes lit up. From that point on, he made our day in Murano incredible. One of the first things he did for us was to take us to his home and we sat on his back porch and had a glass of wine in an absolute incredible setting on the water. I got to play darts with him a little and then we went out to lunch. After that we went to a number of studios through the back door as opposed to the front door. Only he could have gotten us in, and found the places. We got to watch incredible artists work. Then I mentioned that I was looking for a specific optic mold that was unavailable in the States. Elio took us to a small shop, in a residential area, with no signs on it, that only a glassblower from the island would know how to find. I was able to purchase the “pineapple stampa” which I have used many times in my career, and every time I use it, I think about my adventure with him. After that point on our trip, everything else seemed like a small piece. That day was the highlight of our adventure to Italy. His generosity with his time and efforts was at a standard I only hope to reach in my life.
Austin Littenberg
Austin Littenberg
Austin Littenberg
My first introduction to Elio Quarisa was in the summer of 2005 while I was attending a goblet making class with Emilio Santini in The Studio at the Corning Museum of Glass. Elio was teaching goblets in the adjacent hotshop at the time, and every opportunity I had, I would go over to watch him work. I was pretty sure at the time that I wanted to learn goblets, especially in the Venetian approach, but I was a lampworker at the time. Seeing him working in the hotshop changed my interest to hot glass in the hotshop on the spot. I started college at Bowling Green State University in the spring of 2007 and we welcomed Elio as a visiting artist, as the glass program did there every year. I was again blown away (pardon the pun) by his work and was introduced to Jeff Mack (currently my manager at the Toledo Museum of Art's Glass Pavilion). the following year Elio came to visit Bowling Green again and I was by that time at a level where I could lend a hand. Even though I was still a novice in the hotshop, he made me feel like I knew what I was doing and was very encouraging. In the spring of 2009 he visited Bowling Green for the last time. Again I was able to lend a hand while he was working, as well as create a relationship with Jeff Mack based on Venetian work that has continued to this day. While Elio was working, I told him in my best italian, I had been studying the last year in college for this very reason, that I was due to be married in August of that year. Over the course of a few goblets he agreed to make our champagne flutes. That summer the GAS Conference was held in Corning and while walking toward the museum, Elio yelled to me and my soon to be wife to congratulate us again, all be it a little early. The GAS Conference of 2009 was the last time I saw Elio before his passing. Since that last demo I watched and before, I have been studying Venetian glass with Jeff Mack who had directly taken Elio as a mentor and now mentors me. I am sure that I would not be where I am now if it weren't for the generosity of Elio and his kind heartedness in teaching the Venetian techniques to preserve this history that I am now a part of professionally.
Steven Harrie
The rich tradition and awe-inspiring skills shared by Elio Quarisa, carries on through our understanding of how these magical Ventian objects are made.
Steven Harrie
Steven Harrie
David Russell
David Russell
I had the privilige of studying with Elio more than a few times. The comradery bred in that first class along with the vast information that was brought forth compelled me to study with him more and more in the coming years. Elio had always said how glass had taught him how to live life outside of the shop. Over time while he was teaching and sharing with us, it was us, his students that were learning how a glass master works in and out of the shop and how to shape our trajectory accordingly. When we would gather outside of the studio we would all discuss our lives back home and the things we enjoy apart from glass. It was like a personal, intimate, cultural exchange where Elio was as interested in your origins as you were in his. It was never long before wide eyed students veered the talk back towards his incredible glass history. Factory stories from his childhood all the way through the stories of being caught working for factories in the black after retirement, Elite comes to mind, Elio was enriching us with a dose of culture and technical skill that was unrivaled. Perhaps my greatest and most influential moment with Elio was just before my last class with him and on the way to Corning we ran into each other in the philly airport. I had opened my own hot shop since last I had studied with Elio and was eager to show him my promotional materials for the upcoming Baltimore and Philly shows. With Adrianna and his daughter we all sat down for a meal and begun to discuss my images and body of work. After studying with Elio several times over the past years it was with great pride that I showed him my body of work. That conversation with its compliments and advice still resound with me and rudder me to this day and will stay with me forever. Thank you maestro! And thank you Adrianna and The Studio at Corning.
David Russell
Amy Schwartz
The thing that impressed me most about Elio was his ability to inspire his students. When he was teaching at The Studio in Corning, he was always with his students, both in class and outside of class. I remember seeing tall Elio surrounded by a group of students, all happily walking together. Elio shared his strong glassblowing technique and his many Venetian-style tricks freely with his students. We are all grateful for the time he spent teaching here at The Studio.
Amy Schwartz
