"Because I hated selling cars."

That's the answer I give when people ask me how I came to do this for a living. It's true. I was not a happy car salesman. I wasn't bad at it- I just felt like I was wasting so much time when I should be doing something I actually enjoyed. 50-60 hour weeks on a commission based salary selling Volvos to Long Islanders (I had to make up for selling KIA's to East Tenneseans) just didn't cut it.

So, I was whiny. Frequently whiny. To the point where my wife (Chandra) couldn't take it anymore.

"What do you want to do with your life?!"

I wonder if she regrets asking me that sometimes.

Read more ...

We were standing outside of our apartment. It was early February and I had been thinking about this a lot.

"I would like to learn how to make stained glass."

There. I said it. I liked working with my hands. I just didn't want to do construction work (what's worse than waiting for customers in February? Swinging a hammer outside in February). I did feel kinda silly saying it though- especially since my wife's expression was a look that I have come to know as utter and complete exasperation.

Two weeks later I was flipping through the classifieds while at my desk at the dealership and I saw it.

"Looking for apprentices in stained glass..."

You've got to be kidding me.

I called. They asked me to come down and see if it would be a good fit. I called in sick the next day and headed down to Somers Stained Glass in Deer Park. The whole place was filled with glass. Lamps, ranging in design from beautiful Tiffany replicas to the more common (but still really well made) brown and amber glass lamps that were common in the 70's. Racks of sheet glass lined the walls like library books on shelves. Looking back on it now, it really was one of the most impressive glass libraries I have ever seen.

I was taught how to cut glass that day. They primarily made Tiffany replica lamps- beautifully intricate works of art. I was allowed to cut leaves. I've always had the dream of being immediately good at something- a prodigy just waiting to to be discovered.

I'm still waiting to see what that is.

Despite my inability to cut a decent leaf (or worse yet- a long skinny branch) they asked me to stay on. I "retired" from the dealership the very next day and began working with Somers for just over two years. In that time they taught me all aspects of stained glass- from cutting to fabrication, finishing to installation and repair.

(I'm glossing over a bunch of my wife's favorite parts of the story. Mostly the parts where I can barely drive home from work because my neck hurt so much from how tense I would get trying to break the glass along the score line. How long it took me to feel like I was able to do anything well. Or the part where I truly believed I made the worst decision of my life by taking the job there (I had that thought in tears from the comfort of my kitchen floor.). Whatever. Dark days, that's all I remember. Oh, and kids. I started all of this just a little after the birth of our second daughter. My timing has always been, er...impeccable).

I had set up a bench down in my basement in the hopes that I would make some stuff from my own designs. I had my very first commission from my daughter's Girl Scout Troop leader. Her husband was a hunter and she wanted me to make a deer panel for him for Christmas.

I agonized over this piece. I must have cut the eyeball piece six or seven times. I used some pretty expensive glass (clear French Reamy in the background). They loved it. A 14 point buck? Pretty sure it only exists in art. I learned a lot with that piece. Not the least of which was that my drawing skills had a long way to go. My last art class was in the 7th grade. Bad drawings= bad windows.

Somers had just hired this fellow, Jimmy Fitzgerald. Born in Dublin and grew up in London, he had a background in graphic art. We hit it off (despite me spitting coffee all over his face the very first time we met. Jeez. Learn how to drink, will ya?) and after a bit decided to try and do Celtic designed panels and offer them to all the Irish import stores all over the country. We made a bunch of Celtic knots, a couple intricate panels of zoomorphs and some Celtic crosses. We came up with a brochure and sent it with an introductory letter to every Irish store I was able to find online and just waited for the phone to ring.

It didn't.

In 2003 Jimmy's wife was offered a job in Louisville, KY that was too good to pass up. When he told me that he found a guy that wanted to hire the both of us for his glass studio (at the same pay that we had up in NY), I was interested. Once Chandra was able to transfer within her company, we made the move to Louisville.

The next couple of years moved pretty quickly. The fella we moved down here to work with passed away not long after we got here and we were basically forced to step out on our own. Working out of Jimmy's basement we became "legitimate" (insurance and everything!) and made a push to all the interior designers we could find. We undercharged and worked a lot. Glass during the day, waiting tables at night. Each of us had another kid. Eventually the Fitzgeralds decided on settling out in Southern California and I opened Gordon Glass Studio in 2005.

I'd love to say it's been smooth sailing ever since but it's probably the same story told by thousands of entrepreneurs trying to carve their own little niche. Long hours. Long times where you're not exactly the most positive fella in the world. Angry wife. Failures, frustrations and questions about every choice you have ever made. Then there are the successes. Finally knowing what you're good at and being confident about it. The satisfaction of a successful install. Seeing an idea come to life. The excitement that comes with a client saying "Yes" to a proposal. These positives have far outweighed the other stuff and has kept me plugging along (hopefully) for years to come.

Usually I don't have many problems with trying to convey my vision of what the window should be with the client who will own the piece (it is a discussion after all). It still takes a lot of trust on the client's side. It has taken me years to have an idea of what the finished piece will look like once it's set in its final place. Having someone come down to the studio to check on progress normally results in a lot of noises like, "uh, er.....are you sure?? I was hoping for more (color/light)." etc... Which I understand- normally I can only show what the window will look like on the light bench I have. Viewing a window lying on a light bench that's back lit with flourescent lights is kind of like looking at a cadaver. Textured clear glass doesn't show it's texture. Colored glass isn't quite right- everything is off just a little bit. There is no depth (this is a window after all). Also, there isn't any lead around the glass yet- and that makes a HUGE difference in how everything looks.

I try to explain all of this. It's difficult. You hafta trust me.