Wine glass c. 1920

This wine glass, with its delicate spiral, sits here in the Minneapolis Institute of Art, made by an anonymous artist. There's something deeply process-oriented about glassblowing, isn't there? It's this dance between intention and accident, where the artist coaxes the molten glass into form. I'm drawn to the stem. It's not just a straight line; it's got this subtle twist, almost like the glass is still in motion. And then there's that swirl at the base of the cup, catching the light. You can imagine the glassblower twirling and shaping, adding those flecks of gold. It’s not about perfection, but about the gesture, the trace of the maker's hand. It's almost got a touch of Art Nouveau about it, recalling artists like Émile Gallé, who also embraced the organic and the handmade. It’s a reminder that art, whether it's blown or painted, is just an ongoing conversation, an exchange of ideas through time. And there's something beautiful in that ambiguity, in the invitation to bring our own experiences and interpretations to the table.