Silver stain

Silver stain is a paint made from silver nitrate that turns some glass yellow when fired. It has been used for glass painting since the fourteenth century and it gave stained glass its name. I’ve written about my love of silver stained windows previously on my blog here. In my own work I usually use enamel when I want a transparent yellow, but below are two examples which show the great advantage of silver stain which is that you can put it on the back of the glass (you can’t do this with enamel as it sticks to whatever you lay the glass on in the kiln) and get a layered look.

Hillside from 1983 and Kelmscott Manor from 2014.

I haven’t bought any silver stain for years, but I have eight pots of it - all differently labelled - that I have acquired from various places over the years. I made a small panel out of my colour samples (below left) which included a strip of silverstain painted on the back and front of the glass - see how the metallic elements on the tin side of float glass change the pale yellow to amber. I also made some larger sheets to cut up (below right), failing to match the colours and textures that I achieved in the first piece I painted which is the tallest one on the left of the photo.

Leaded panel using colour samples with silver stain across the middle and sheets of silver stain in the window.

So I thought it was about time to test and label my eight silver stains. The variations in colour are shown below where I have put all the pieces together on the lightbox. I’ve used 6mm and 2mm float glass, testing how each stain changed on a sandblasted surface, on the tin side, when the painted surface is put up or down in the kiln, and whether the colour is better when fired at a lower temperature. As shown below, I can get pretty much any shade of yellow, ochre and brown that I want, and in combination with enamels on the other side of the glass I will be able to make any colours in the red, orange and green ranges too.

Other Peoples' Subject Matter

Ray Ward, Fred Baier and me on stage after our talk on 13/04/2023.

Ray and I were asked by our friend and Artworkers’ Guild Master Fred Baier to give a talk together at the Art Workers’ Guild in Queen Square, London. He wanted us to talk about our so called collaborative stained glass panels, a daunting prospect as I didn’t initially think I had much to say about them.

When we planned the talk it took us right back to the beginning of our partnership, after we met in art school in 1981. Ray remembered being impressed with the things I made that had a use, such as my patchworks and the stained glass that is shown in my sketchbook drawings (below centre). I remembered clearly the moment when I saw a poster for Ray’s performance on the wall at Trent Poly (below right) and recognised in it decorative qualities in the brushstrokes that were hard to find in a fine art department in 1981.

Left, our student union cards; centre, my sketchbook; right, Ray’s poster.

I also talked about the way that Ray’s paintings remind me of the things I like about the best stained glass, for example the little painting below left that shows an artist lounging in his studio (with echoes of Matisse’s Red Studio) where the carpet and clothes are really devices to fill with pattern. Ray’s recent work is mostly in black and white with good titles that are funny and poignant; examples that he showed in the talk include ‘Technically I didn’t throw the baby out with the bath water as it wasn’t in the bath at the time’ and ‘Today is all filled up with yesterday and tomorrow’ (below centre and right).

Three works by Ray Ward

Left, window at Frimley Park Hospital; centre, during the manufacture of panels for Central Liverpool’s Premier Inn; right, my lightbox with the last panel I made before lockdown in progress.

It was quite easy then to find links from Ray’s work that enabled me to talk about ten of my commissions from the intervening years, starting with an early screenprinted panel for Frimley Park Hospital (above left). I emphasised themes that come up when you work to commission such as using other peoples’ subject matter and having to present a design from which you cannot deviate.

I’ve described the making of our so called collaborative panels in previous blog posts here and here. I’m still making stained glass from Ray’s black and white drawings and, as I see myself as the technician on this project, I talked mostly about the techniques involved in making them. What I hadn’t realised was the link between the subject matter of the pieces I’d chosen to interpret in glass, from ‘I said Tell me the Truth and You Gave me a Lie’ (prompting one of our friends to send us the message “Are you guys OK?”), to two scenes of tension between couples in ‘That’s not really a question is it, more of a statement’ and ‘Just Another Story’ all shown below.

Ray is used to being plagued with comments from friends (for example ‘I didn’t know you were depressed/ill/rightwing’) who mistakenly think his work is autobiographical, this is something I don’t usually have to put up so I think I’ll choose a funnier piece next with a picture of a less downcast figure.

Under the disco lights that followed our talk, portraits of two greats of stained glass Christopher Whall (left) and Robert Anning Bell (right). Ray wasn’t the only person dancing (centre).

John Hayward in Wiltshire

The Vision of St Hubert 1966. St Mary, Chilton Foliat, Wiltshire, and detail.

Windows designed and made byJohn Hayward are easy to identify just from their style, with distinctive figures, crisp shading and criss crossing leads. Of the three in Wiltshire churches the one in Chilton Foliat from 1966 (above) is the earliest, although to me his work always looks as if it is rooted in the 1950s. It illustrates the story of St Hubert, with a fine stag in the centre where a crucifix hangs between his antlers and the shadowy figures of hunters pass by on a pale blue background.

Mary and Child 1985. St Mary, Collingbourne Kingston, Wiltshire, and detail.

Similarly, the John Hayward window at Collingbourne Kingston (above and below) looks great in its setting, letting in plenty of north light and full of wonderful painted sections and convincing figures. However, it is all a bit of a jumble and, unable to make sense of the imagery (did they once make gloves in Collingbourne Kingston?) I went back to read the blurb in the church leaflet. The window was commissioned in memory of Richard and Marguerita Wilson by their son. Not only do we have their initials and an inscription to them in the design, we also have St Mary holding the church on top of a map of the parish, the Annunciation, the sacraments of Eucharist. Baptism, Ordination and Confirmation all with their own symbols. There’s definitely too much going on here.

St Mary, Collingbourne Kingston. John Hayward window in north choir, detail from the window.

A few years later Hayward made an Annunciation window for Christ Church, Swindon (below), its form is very like the top section of the Collingbourne window. But this one, in a muted golden colour palette, fills the whole of the two lights, with architectural details and folded curtains making a dynamic setting for the beautifully painted figures.

The Annunciation 1987. Christ Church, Swindon, Wiltshire, and detail.

The Church and The Arts 1967. St Peter and Paul, Checkendon, Oxfordshire

Hayward’s window at Checkenden, Oxfordshire (above) is a window in the same vein. Here the background curtain behind the three figures that symbolise writing, painting and music lifts to reveal the virgin and child. The composition is calm and balanced, the colours subtle and harmonious.

It’s not the date they were made, the subject matter used, nor their position with attendant light conditions in the church that has caused the similarities between these two last examples that are simpler than any other Hayward windows I have seen, and all the better for it.

Interior of St Peter and Paul, Checkendon, and detail from John Hayward window.

Into The New Forest

Instructions for parking at St John the Baptist Boldre and Beaulieu Abbey Church.

There were odd signs about in New Forest church car parks (above). Beaulieu Abbey church was shut, but St John the Baptist, Boldre was open and in its windows there is a great variety of good twentieth century glass including a beautiful nativity window by Derek Wilson (below). The detail shows the light sketchy paintwork that makes this window appear soft and airy with a 1950s feel.

Boldre, nativity window by Derek Wilson, 1951 and detail.

Boldre, east window by Alan Younger, 1967 and detail.

Interesting as a contrast to Derek Wilson’s window, is the East window by Alan Younger on the theme of Christ in Majesty (above). Here the figure is surrounded by blocks of rich colour and heavy bands of black paint that make the window effective from a distance and also close up. His smaller and later window (below) is similarly angular, with spikes going both ways and some gorgeous coloured organic shapes in the middle. The theme of this window is God The Creator - ‘Overall is a vertical and horizontal structure to suggest order being established and light emerging from darkness ….. at the centre is a rich burst of warm colours suggesting flowering and harvest’ - a quote from the standard, bland blurb on the explanatory plaque that invariably appears near a non figurative window.

Boldre, south west window by Alan Younger, 1980 and detail.

Boldre, Two of three badge windows in North Aisle by Francis Skeat, 1956.

To complement these are a series of nicely balanced badge windows by Francis Skeat (above) with lovely textured clear glass backgrounds and the delicate colours I’ve noticed in his work elsewhere. The most recent window is a classic Millenium one (below) by the glass engraver Tracey Sheppard next to the south porch. Here you have the usual mix of local wildlife and scenery that shows up a lot better against the dark interior from the outside than it does against the pale sky.

Boldre, south aisle window by Tracey Sheppard, 2000 from outside and inside.

All Saints Dibden: east window by Derek Wilson, 1957 from the outside.

We drove off to All Saints, Dibden, excited at the prospect of seeing three more windows by Derek Wilson. The church was locked but even from the outside you could see his fluid painting style in a view of the church tower and in a bold looking east window (above).

I found my third and favourite entry for the ‘churches in churches’ category in the nearby church of St John, Marchwood. The model (below) gives you a good idea of the lofty, austere building that is full of slightly dingy but attractive colours, like the floor detail (below centre) and the spooky stained glass figures in tall gothic windows by Baillie.

St John, Marchwood with stained glass by Baillie, 1863.

Scrap Glass

Left, palette with unfired enamel paint. Right, glass scraps painted with two enamel colours and fired.

For a recent commission I had to make a lot of colour samples using transparent glass enamel mixed with a drop of lavender oil and another of gum arabic in the traditional way. With the leftover paint I coated rectangles of glass with two colours against each other and once fired, saved them in a box. The next stage, cutting them up then leading them together to make something satisfactory, proved harder than I thought.

Scraps cut up and arranged to make scrap panels 1, 2 and 3.

My first idea was to make exuberant curved shapes with background pieces cut on the slant (scrap panel 1 above and below). The offcuts from the slanted pieces made an effortless triangle panel (scrap panel 2 above & below). I shouldn’t have been surprised that panel no 2 was so much better than panel no 1, as I wasn’t trying too hard - always a recipe for disaster. There was too much yellow in no 1, so panel no 3 (above right) was an attempt to deal with the yellow by making it the spine of the piece and using the colours in a more ordered way.

Scrap panels completed, top panels 1 & 2. Bottom panels 3 & 4.

The original format of panel no 3 looked very clumsy, so I cut it down to make a smaller panel no 3 (above right). Finally, to emphasise the original idea of the two enamel colours coming together on one piece, like a simple flag or landscape design, I made panel panel no 4 (above left) where the bands of complimentary colours frame other painted and sandblasted scraps from one of my many boxes of broken glass and sample pieces.