How a mum of three got hooked on glass blowing and breathed fresh air into her life

At the peak of their skill and artistic ability in the 14th century, the glass makers of Murano, three miles from Venice, became the province’s most prominent citizens. Elevated to a status approaching royalty, they were entitled to wear swords and enjoyed immunity from prosecution.

Today, in her studio in her back garden, Julia Rushworth enjoys different yet equally satisfying riches: the freedom to immerse herself in her passion and create beautiful objects that fulfil her creative itchings.

As a craft, glass blowing was long shrouded in obsidian darkness. Archaeologists have found evidence of man-made glass that dates back to 4000BC Mesopotamia. When glass making came to Britain with the Romans, the technology was closely guarded. While those aforementioned Murano privileges came at a price, they were banned from taking their craft and setting up anywhere else, so highly prized were their skills by the Venetians.

Today, industrial glass manufacturing technology means that we rarely ponder the wonder of the glass we raise to our lips. Indeed, Julia says it is hardly worth her while making glasses. She made an exception for her recent 50th birthday gathering, when attendees were each given a handblown glass.

She makes what she calls “unglassy glass”. Mesmerising vases and objects that play with the idea of the Yorkshire landscape with iridescent layers of green and brown. Other pieces have an elemental flicker not unlike the effects of Japanese raku ceramics.

“I don’t particularly work with thin or transparent glass. I prefer opaqueness,” explains Julia. “I quite like substantial glass at the minute, but that could change.” Hers is an unusual set-up. Most glass blowing studios tend to be established by a team of people in a large warehouse. But Julia works alone in a small-scale studio that she built at the end of her garden in Wetherby.

Ten years ago the NHS occupational therapist went back to university part-time aged 40, initially to pursue an interest in leaded glass. A module on hot glass got her hooked on blowing and she ended up graduating with a first from the National Glass Centre in Sunderland in 2014.

“There’s a saying that glass blowing is as addictive as crack cocaine and twice as expensive,” laughs Julia. “There’s something about playing with fire that is quite addictive.”

Any temperature change and you’ve had it; you have to concentrate completely

Her intention was to rent studio space and blow on a part-time basis. But a period of personal challenge where she found herself alone raising three children while caring for her mother and father forced her to re-examine her life.

“I had to give up my NHS job to care for everyone and then after Mum died I had an epiphany. Mum was only 24 years older than me, and I thought that I had better get on with my life. I went home and ordered a furnace,” she says.

For the past year, Julia has committed to making her way as an artist and believes her set-up to be the country’s smallest home-based glass blowing studio. It’s easy to see how she loses herself for hours on end down here at the bottom of the garden. It’s a picturesque scene, if you block out the huge gas canister. The furnace, lit at 8am and now fully heated up two hours later, roars, making it hard at first to hear Julia’s soft voice.

Once a week she lights the furnace and spends the day glass blowing. It is intensely physical work; by 6pm she’s exhausted. A particularly complex piece can take 45 minutes of constant concentration.

“You can’t stop. Any temperature change and you’ve had it,” she explains. “You have to concentrate completely.”

The process is intensely physical, yet clearly there is also a spiritual side to it. “I get lost in the making,” the artist admits. “It’s quite meditative.”

Having been selected to take part in a Crafts Council mentor scheme this year, Julia is thriving as a glass maker and has no plans to go back to the NHS.

There’s a saying that glass blowing is as addictive as crack – and twice as pricey

“It’s been absolutely fantastic. I’m enormously proud when I make something and someone wants to buy it. It’s such a great feeling. It is a little bit daunting the idea of making my living doing this, but it appears to be working so far.”

Many beginners start with a bauble, that flibbertigibbet among glass objects, and I am to be similarly initiated. At 2,102F (1,150C), there’s a definite warmth in the air and Julia says that the intense heat is not for everyone, although she admits: “I burn myself more cooking. It’s so hot that you take care and precautions.”

Indeed, I’m wearing woollen armbands that, if they are doing anything at all, mark me out as a novice.

Julia helps guide the blowing iron into the furnace, where it is dipped and turned in the pre-melted glass in the pot at the bottom.

Then, holding it closer to the heat, Julia urges me to keep slowly turning the iron, like “keeping runny honey on a dripper”. All the while she judges the temperature. “You’re looking for it to be glowing cherry red,” says Julia.

When we hit that red light, I guide the pipe out and sit on a bench slowly rolling it as Julia shapes it using a fruit wood block. Already the glass is too cool to shape further, so it’s back into the furnace. Speed and dexterity are definite assets.

FIND A GLASS BLOWING COURSE

At the right moment, it’s back to the bench. This time Julia orders me to blow into the sophietta (a Venetian term) at the end of the pipe.

“If the temperature is right you don’t have to blow very hard,” says Julia. “It’s a bit like patting your head and rubbing your tummy,” she continues as I fumble the task.

We repeat the heating process, until that comforting bauble shape begins to appear. The fledgling bauble is rolled in cranberry-coloured frit (a mixture of silica and fluxes), which melts into the clear glass in the furnace to give a mottled effect. The top is closed using a pair of jacks that pincer the glass and shape it with a teeth-grinding screech.

The “finished” bauble (my first attempt doesn’t quite inflate) is placed into the lehr, a temperature-controlled kiln which keeps everything inside it at around 932F (500C).

At the end of the day everything in the lehr is slowly cooled, a process called annealing. “If you just left it to cool on its own it would break,” explains Julia.

I’m amazed that she usually does this all on her own, without the help of incredibly long arms. Although, after our first bauble attempt, I realise I’m actually more of a hindrance. The bauble she produces on her own can actually pass as such in a blind test.

Indeed, if it had ever flickered, my appreciation of handblown glass is reignited. “When people see it done it does make a difference,” says Julia. “They can really see I’ve sweated over it for 45 minutes.”

At ￡6,000 for the furnace alone, a set-up like Julia’s doesn’t come cheap. She used money left her by her mother, saying: “I do know I’m really lucky to be able to do this.”

However there are courses for those who want to give it a blow. And as addictions go, few are as likely to leave you with an abundance of handmade Christmas presents.

Julia will be at the 10th Great Northern Contemporary Craft Fair, Oct 12-15 2017 at Upper Campfield Market Manchester. greatnorthernevents.co.uk,  juliarushworthglass.co.uk