A Garden Drawn in Light
From the Greenbriar studio · February 2026
In February, the garden began to take shape as a collection idea. Wild roses were the recurring anchor: familiar, untidy in the loveliest way, and capable of carrying both tenderness and strength. Magnolias had their place too, reserved for moments that called for a more formal kind of beauty.
The plan joined several ways of working with glass. Individual sections could be cut, painted, and fired before being brought together with solder into a larger panel. That sequence offered room for the detail of a painting and the architecture of a window: a flower built petal by petal, then held within a composition designed for light to pass through.
Garden of the Gilded Light gave this direction a name. It suggested the warmth in the color, the movement of branches, and the slow work of turning drawings into lasting glass. The title did not require every piece to look alike. It offered a place for portraits, roses, botanical passages, and future experiments to belong to the same growing world.
February’s record is made of decisions rather than a dated photograph sequence. It matters because the work had acquired a center. The wild rose could return again and again, each time changed by scale, color, glass, and the light around it.
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