I swore I wasn’t going to be one of those parents who let their kids dictate their home decor. I’d seen enough living rooms furnished by PlaySkool. Sure, I’d gate off the stairs, lock up the drain cleaner, and plug plastic covers into outlets. But no Lego centerpieces, no changing tables in the kitchen, no sheets covering the sofa, and no glass tables shrink- wrapped in quilt padding.
Mine would be an adult house. We were here first. The kids would have to adapt.
So when our little blessings came along, I left the gorgeous, hand-blown, one-of-a-kind glass bowl on the living-room table, where it looked perfect. I loved how the colors in this glass art dazzled by day and danced in the light by night.
When my oldest became a toddler, she liked the bowl, too. Despite our little talks about how certain pretty things are just to look at, one day, like Eve in Eden, she picked up the glass bowl in her two precious hands, and raised it about 8 inches. As I dove forward like a cornerback for an interception, she panicked, pulled her hands apart, and the bowl crashed on the table, shattering like Humpty Dumpty.
This is when mothers lock themselves in their closets, muffle their screams in a stack of sweaters, then, after swallowing four Valium, emerge to say calmly: “It’s OK, honey. Mommy shouldn’t have had an expensive glass bowl on the table.”
I then did what any stubborn, impractical woman living in La-La Land would do: I bought another bowl similar to the lost bowl, and set it on the same table. My oldest steered clear.
Her fast-growing younger sister, however, didn’t get the avoid- the-bowl memo. She was too busy being a fairy princess, donning fairy-princess jammies and a plastic silver tiara, and waving her 79-cent magic wand. The wand’s business end had a large pink plastic crystal, which she’d tap around the house transforming stuff. She tapped the dog. Poof! He became her white horse. Her stuffed animals — Alacazam! — became her coachmen. And for a coach — Ping! — she tapped the crystal bowl, which, of course, shattered like all fairy tales ultimately do.
The 79-cent wand, incidentally, remained unscathed.
Realism replaced La-La Land. I cooled it on the glass art and placed a basket of boring but indestructible silk flowers on the table. Maybe when the kids are out of college and I have disposable income again, I’ll get another glass bowl that I love. And that really does seem like a fairy-tale ending.
Syndicated columnist Marni Jameson is the author of “The House Always Wins” (Da Capo). You may contact her through .
Glass-tastic
Sandy Sardella, owner of Pismo Glass, which has four locations in Colorado, insists that kids, pets and fragile art can coexist. The key is proper preparation and placement. “Teaching kids to appreciate and respect art, even small kids, is important,” she says. But if you have an active house — and that includes one with agile and tail-wagging pets — niches, high shelves and glass cabinets can help keep breakable art out of harm’s way. Here’s what else she says to consider when acquiring fine glass art that you’d like to keep.
Use museum wax to anchor nice pieces to furniture, even on pieces high up. A pea-sized ball will affix most pieces and won’t damage furniture.
Explore styles. To many, glass art seems contemporary, but styles of glass art vary widely and many would be right at home in traditional, ethnic, country or rustic settings.
Take a test drive. Most fine stores will let you try a piece out for a few days before you buy. During that “test drive,” evaluate color and scale and how the piece looks during the day and night.
Assess quality. Sardella looks for thin glass with intense, uplifting colors. But, she adds, some fabulous pieces are intentionally thick with somber colors. She also wants to see deliberateness and control. Bubbles will be present, but fewer are better.
Lighting is critical. Pieces either look best backlit, or lit from the top down. Halogen lights work best. If your cabinet, niche or wall doesn’t already have art lights, a lighting specialist can help.
What’s in a name? Sardella’s galleries represent many glass artists. Some of the best are Dale Chihuly (most well known), Lino Tagliapietra (at age 74, technically the best in the world), Christopher Ries, Jon Kuhn, Carol Perry, Stephen Powell, Dante Marioni and Flo Perkins. An original work from a well-known glass artist is a collectible, as opposed to a nice home accessory. Name artists also design studio pieces that they have manufactured into limited editions. These production pieces cost a lot less, and still carry the artist’s name, but aren’t true collectibles. For instance, Chihuly’s original pieces start at $20,000. (Sardella has one priced at $270,000.) Chihuly’s studio pieces cost between $3,500 and $7,500. If that’s outside your budget — and it’s outside mine — beautiful glass art from lesser known artists is available in the low hundreds.
When shopping, bring pictures of your space along with measurements of where you plan to put your piece.
Don’t be intimidated. “Glass art is sturdier than you think,” Sardella says. She’s heard stories where parents have come home and found out their kids have used the Chihuly bowl for guacamole. “I’m not recommending that, but the bowl survives.” The kids, however, may not.
