In ancient and native civilizations, a mindful connection to nature was an intrinsic facet of everyday life. Symbols and rituals have been used across cultural and historical lines to express and celebrate the universality of man’s bond to nature. While today that link is no less strong, it is generally less easily perceived or outwardly lived. Naturalist John Muir wrote that “there is a love of wild nature in everybody, an ancient mother-love showing itself whether recognized or no, and however covered by cares and duties.” Art can be a spiritual guide in our quest to be more open to nature’s pull. Glass artist William Morris lives by example, then uses his contact to nature in the creation of an intuitive and affecting body of art. Reminiscent of ancient or native artifacts—ranging from Egyptian to Iranian, Native American to Japanese, and beyond—and appearing to be crafted from clay and bone rather than glass, Morris’ objects are a mysterious and elegant tribute to his deep-seated communion with nature.
Having neither the money nor the credentials for glass school, Morris left college in the late 1970s for Dale Chihuly’s recently founded Pilchuck School, where Chihuly let him drive the truck in exchange for training. He lived in a tree house and stayed for ten years, being appointed as gaffer then as artistic director. At Pilchuck, the free-spirited Morris allowed his journey to be the destination and never had a long-term plan. Next, the formation of his own studio afforded him the freedom of creative expression (following an aesthetic which is quite different than that of his friend Chihuly) and the free time to pursue his other adventures—diving, rock climbing, spearfishing, bow hunting, paddle boarding, fly-fishing, paragliding and so on. Nature is not simply rhetoric in Morris’ work. Rather, his work an expression of his life.
With an open mind and amazing technical prowess, Morris’ career testifies to a profound affinity for glass. He has clearly created a unique dialogue with the material. His objects belie the common inherent characteristics of the medium—luster, transparency, bright coloration—and instead showcase its quieter, more carnal qualities. Viscous lava is hot sculpted, moved, twisted, tilted, pulled, and pinched to achieve shapes not often seen in glass. Muted opaque colors are forged by rolling clear molten glass in powdered color glass and minerals and surfaces are worn through various techniques such as etching and “scavo” (a Venetian technique in which a corrosive acid dissolves part of the finish, often resulting in the iron-oxide effect evident in Medicine Jar).
These methods often have strikingly realistic results, fooling the eye into believing it is beholding wood, stone, metal, or clay—not glass. Despite this skill, Morris has said “I’m not interested in replicating anything, it’s more the impression of things, of textures, colors, something that has survived for centuries in severe and remote locations. You cannot delineate that literally, but intuitively, viscerally.” He has also said “an object tells a story, whether it is found or fashioned. It tells the story of its origin, its process, and illuminates us to something outside ourselves. I’m not trying to be too specific about a particular story—it’s more a feeling, an impression, a reverence, a narrative.”
Morris’ creations are an equal result of feeling, living, and learning. From his boyhood in California, he developed a fascination with Native American archeological fragments in the hills above Carmel. He studied petroglyphs and prehistoric artifacts in detail, not in an effort to render his art authentic but in a search for a deeper understanding of the connection between the human and natural worlds. His art, and by extension, his viewers, are simply the benefactors of this inquiry. The Mazorca Urn (2013) pays homage to his childhood enchantment with native pottery, and the ceramic-like finish of the work hearkens back to high school and college, where he was involved in ceramics programs. Additional works from the Mazorca series have a ritualistic sensibility, once again defying their physical reality as objects made of glass and inhabiting the enchanting realm between reality and mysticism.
In art and in life, William Morris is unafraid of risk but instead finds intrigue in the process of discovery. This philosophy has allowed him to commune with nature in a visceral way and create a daring and sentient body of work. Each work coexists between a sense of rarefication and earthliness. Though he retired in 2007 at the age of 50, his work still has a timely and universal quality. In his retirement, he continues to attune his own connection to the earth. Through the legacy of his glass sculptures he continues to guide us in our observations of the world around us, opening us up to the recognition that it is a valuable and elemental part of our existence.