Marinke van Zandwijk commutes between the rope workshop, her father's welding machine and the glass blowing workshop, where she focuses on blowing glass bubbles, the archetype from which all blown glass is created. She considers these bubbles a metaphor for humans: “The bubble is filled with elusiveness, while the glass is the shell. A personality is also elusive.” Van Zandwijk's glass bubbles can be seen together with those of Sina Dyks at the cheerful spring exhibition Here comes the sun at Galerie Franzis Engels.
Where is your studio and what does it look like? Do you actually have ovens for heating the glass?
I sometimes feel that half the world is my studio. To create a sculpture, I need so many different materials and stories. To make all those parts, I commute on my cargo bike between the glassworks, my studio, the rope workshop, my father's welding machine, the metalworker and all kinds of other places where I collect and make material to work with. Obviously, the most important ones are the glassworks and my studio.
You can only blow glass to around 1,000 degrees, after which the glass turns liquid. I've been blowing liquid glass since I was fourteen. You only need a melting furnace that keeps the glass liquid, a heating furnace to heat up your glass when necessary and a cooling furnace to cool down the blown glass. These ovens have to be fired day and night. I don't have my own oven, so I blow my glass in the studio of the National Glass Museum in Leerdam.
I built my studio on top of my house. That's really convenient because I can simply run upstairs when I have time to work out my ideas, make sketches and experiment with materials. In my studio, my bubbles are given the context that brings the story to life. That is why there are all kinds of materials there, such as mountains of plaster, newspaper, rope and above all, lots of different bubbles. And broken bubbles because I'm quite clumsy, which is actually quite inconvenient for someone who works with glass.
I read that at the Glass Museum in Leerdam, you have often been allowed to blow glass for clients from the art and fashion world, and that this was an eye opener for you. Can you explain why?
I was very young when I first started glassblowing. I have always found it utterly fascinating to turn sand, lime and soda into a liquid material you can shape at a red-hot temperature. Viscous and sticky when hot and hard and fragile when cool. But to give that bubble expressiveness, to have it tell a story, which is something quite different than mastering traditional glass blowing. Working with different artists and designers has a liberating effect on your creativity and stimulates you to explore the boundaries of the craft. I still like to work with other artists, which is very inspiring in all respects. I'm a bit of a scaredy cat myself and prefer to watch other people be ruthless.
Ceramics are currently experiencing a revival, but you don't see blown glass sculptures much in contemporary art. How did you get into glassblowing and what initially attracted you to this art form?
Even though I grew up just outside of Leerdam, I actually had little or no idea about hot glass. But after the first time I entered the glassworks in 2001, I never left. It's such an odd material. There’s so much to it that it cannot be compared to other materials, so I wanted to discover everything, initially on a fairly technical level, which is also necessary with glass. Without the right technique, you can't hold anything onto your blowpipe and you can't remove it without breaking it. I periodically attended art school and developed myself more broadly. I later tried to concentrate on catching the air bubble, the archetype from which all blown glass is created.
On your website, you quote a statement by Erasmus about this archetype: Man is a bubble. Can you explain how you translate this statement into your work?
I like to translate his ‘homo bulla est’ into ‘Man is a bubble’. To me, all bubbles are actually air bubbles, ha ha! Erasmus meant this as a metaphor for the transitory and temporary nature of life. That's how I see it, but there's more to it. That bubble is filled with elusiveness, while the glass is the shell. A personality is also elusive. You can try to express it, but it’s not tangible. With my bubbles, I try to make this tangible in some way with the solidifying shell that traps air inside. I have all kinds of bubbles. There are forms that are similar and others that are part of a ‘herd’. This often depicts my idea of humanity as a whole. I also have individual bubbles, or small series, in which my bubbles are distorted. The bubbles are formed by the environment I blow them into, like pieces of metal, wood or paper. But at the same time, the air I blow into them moulds them from the inside. As they blow, they grow, dent where the other material touches and interact with gravity. To me, these are scenarios in which they play the leading role. And that can often be explained in several ways.
Glassblowing is not only a very physical activity, but also one that is prone to error. You have to get it right the first time. Is that also what makes glassblowing so appealing and exciting for you?
The all or nothing moment is wonderful. High peaks, deep valleys. If something works, after a day of broken bubbles, naturally I feel euphoric. Liquid glass is too hot to handle with your hands, so making something without actually touching it is amazing. It is also very physical, like a dance with the material. My movements distort the glass. And then the moment it changes phase happens quickly, but not too quickly. To me, glassblowing is all about capturing that ultimate moment.
New work of yours is currently on display at Franzis Engels. Can you tell us a bit about that?
I blow bubbles in the most beautiful colours. I like to give the world warmth, love and cheerfulness. This is much needed in these gloomy times. Also, it's scientifically proven that colours make people feel better. That’s also the focus of my life right now. I try to let the harshness pass me by and especially to pass on some gentleness and love. When I heard from Franzis Engels about her previous exhibition, This is the age of destruction, I immediately promised that I would make a positive exhibition afterwards, a spring exhibition where you can immerse yourself in warm colours: "Here comes the sun".
If money weren’t an issue, what kind of project would you like to work on?
Time is the most important issue for me! I have so many ideas bouncing around my head that I want to carry out. Glassblowing is very time-consuming! And then there’s the further technical development of my envisioned images, because even though there is air in my bubbles, they cannot float as I would like them to. And I like to create time-consuming images. I once ironed and stacked thousands of newspapers for a job. Fortunately, my gallery keeps finding clients who help me financially to make my sculptures and often have a fantastic, challenging location for it! And, of course, a lot of money would be fantastic, because I could then create my work with a crane anywhere. I would permanently hire the glassblowing workshop to blow millions of bubbles and have a metal workshop that never closed. I’ve already managed to arrange a crane. I still dream about a wide load convoy, but I'm working on it!
Are there any other materials you would like to work with?
I am always looking for exciting combinations of different materials with my glass bubbles. So, that I am challenged to give my bubbles a new shape, to tell a new story. Another residency at the EKWC would be great and I have plans to work with metal at Make in Eindhoven. But I need enough time for that.
What are you currently working on?
I am developing a large statue for the Stedelijk Museum Alkmaar. It will be a statue of liberty, a large dream catcher of five meters high and eight meters long. And full of glass bubbles in different shapes, sizes and colours. The working title is Sparkling Desire, but this might change. But it has to be a sparkling work to which content is provided by the viewer. What freedom means not to me, but to the visitor. I’ve got all kinds of other projects in the works; I want to make some new work for the Kunstrai, some private commissions. There is always more to do than I have time for.