This Artist Transforms Glass Knickknacks into Stunning Sculptures
Amber Cowan sees the world through rose (and cobalt and pearl) colored glass.
Photo: Matthew Hollerbush
One woman's amethyst candy dish is another woman's treasure—especially if the treasurer is Philadelphia-based sculptor Amber Cowan, 35. Cowan has spent the past six years hunting for glass knickknacks manufactured from the 1950s to the present, with the goal of manipulating them into modern sculptures that are more than the sum of their fusty parts.
Photo: Matthew Hollerbush
Oldies and Goodies
Cowan's obsession with pressed-glass tchotchkes (think ruby red water goblets, bright blue lampstands) started simply enough: They abound at thrift stores, garage sales and junkyards—so she could get a lot for a little. But her ongoing attraction can be credited to the material's historical preciousness. "Many items I work with are no longer produced," says Cowan, who's also an adjunct professor at Temple University's Tyler School of Art. "And some of the molds used to make them date back to the 1800s. "By reworking the retro relics into abstract art, Cowan gives them new stories to tell.
Photo: Matthew Hollerbush
Pieces of Her Heart
Cowan's best friend is the 5,000-degree torch she uses to melt and twist pieces of scrap glass into spikes, flowers, feathers and other shapes. She then combines those new forms—by the hundreds and sometimes thousands—to build monochromatic sculptures ("adding different colors would be chaotic") ranging in size from several inches to six feet. Even with a vast collection, Cowan mourns the trinkets that got away. "I found a barrel of broken yellow and pink Christmas tree figurines several years ago, and I still regret not buying it," she says. "I would have loved to make a big forest piece out of them."
Photo: Matthew Hollerbush
Reaction Time
Despite Cowan's avant-garde aesthetic, her candy-colored swirls and curls tend to make viewers nostalgic. A 2014 installation at the Philadelphia airport prompted one anonymous admirer to send the artist a thank-you note: "He told me it reminded him of the green dishes his grandparents served ice cream sundaes in," she says. "He hadn't thought about them in 40 years."
Photo: Matthew Hollerbush
Oldies and Goodies
Cowan's obsession with pressed-glass tchotchkes (think ruby red water goblets, bright blue lampstands) started simply enough: They abound at thrift stores, garage sales and junkyards—so she could get a lot for a little. But her ongoing attraction can be credited to the material's historical preciousness. "Many items I work with are no longer produced," says Cowan, who's also an adjunct professor at Temple University's Tyler School of Art. "And some of the molds used to make them date back to the 1800s. "By reworking the retro relics into abstract art, Cowan gives them new stories to tell.
Photo: Matthew Hollerbush
Pieces of Her Heart
Cowan's best friend is the 5,000-degree torch she uses to melt and twist pieces of scrap glass into spikes, flowers, feathers and other shapes. She then combines those new forms—by the hundreds and sometimes thousands—to build monochromatic sculptures ("adding different colors would be chaotic") ranging in size from several inches to six feet. Even with a vast collection, Cowan mourns the trinkets that got away. "I found a barrel of broken yellow and pink Christmas tree figurines several years ago, and I still regret not buying it," she says. "I would have loved to make a big forest piece out of them."
Photo: Matthew Hollerbush
Reaction Time
Despite Cowan's avant-garde aesthetic, her candy-colored swirls and curls tend to make viewers nostalgic. A 2014 installation at the Philadelphia airport prompted one anonymous admirer to send the artist a thank-you note: "He told me it reminded him of the green dishes his grandparents served ice cream sundaes in," she says. "He hadn't thought about them in 40 years."
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