THE HAKONE GLASS FOREST IS EVERYTHING IT'S CRACKED UP TO BE

In the Middle Ages, before the dawn of science, alchemists tried to find ways to make gold. Of course their efforts were futile, but where the alchemist failed, the medieval glassmaker succeeded, creating from mere sand and fire works that were considered jewels.

As part of Italy in Japan 2001, the Hakone Glass Forest Museum has supplemented its own fine collection of Venetian glass with items from the renowned Murano Museum in Venice for an exhibition that focuses on the exquisite products of Europe's most famous glass making centre.

Venetian glassmaking in its beauty, fragility, and commercial appeal, mirrors the city that created it. Although originally founded on a few tiny islets off the Italian coast, Venice existed as a trading republic for centuries, playing a vital role in the economic and cultural life of both Europe and the Mediterranean. The first documented mention of glassmaking in the city dates back to 981, when Venice was a semi–independent outpost of the Byzantine Empire.

The oldest examples on display, however, are from the 15th century, by which time the city state was at the height of its power.

Goblet and lid enamelled with flower pattern, circa 1500 / Le Tre Grazie, 1996, Livio Seguso, Venice

An outstanding work from this period is a goblet in gilded blue glass that was clearly more for display than drinking. In the early centuries coloured glass was popular because the colour helped to hide blemishes in the glass, but around 1450, the glassmaker Angelo Barovier found a way of making glass of such purity that it was termed cristallino or crystalline.

The output of the glass factories on the island of Murano now largely turned to the output of clear glass. Venice's technological lead was further consolidated by diamond etching decoration, opalescent tinting, and ice–crack glass.

The most astounding innovation, however, was the development of filigree glass. The exhibition shows the complex process by which sticks of white enamel glass were, together with balls or sticks of transparent glass, reheated, rolled and blown to weave fine white lines into the body of the glass.

A jug from the 16th century with a crossed filigree pattern shows the intricacy of this method. The spaces originally left between the rows of glass sticks laid across each other, have been transformed into thousands of tiny bubbles, captured between the lacy lines like dewdrops in a spiders web.

With the opening of the transoceanic trade routes by the Spanish and Portuguese, Venice's importance as a trading centre declined. Also by the 17th century, Venice faced increasing competition as its secrets leaked out to its competitors. This led the glassmakers of Murano to diversify into lattimo, a form of white glass that was used to mimic Chinese porcelain. But the heyday of Venice's glassmaking was passing.

Macchia, 1991, Dale Chihuly, USA / Goblet and lid in filigrana a retorti, late 16th to early 17th century

After the Venetian Republic was extinguished by Napoleon in 1797, production almost ground to a halt, but in the mid 19th century there was a revival that has continued to the present day. Some of the works of this later period express the exuberance of the Italian spirit, such as the richly coloured Bottles With Combed Patterns (ca. 1870) that seem more like confections than glass. But, because glass is so breakable, it is the older works that fascinate the most. The longer they have survived, the more magical is their spell.

The site of the museum adds to this effect. Located in an area of hot springs, where plumes of sulphurous steam can clearly be seen rising from the ground, it has obviously been built on ground of questionable seismic stability. The idea that an earthquake could strike at any moment, breaking these delicate masterpieces, however, only serves to make them seem all the more precious.

Colin Liddell

Asahi Evening News
11th Aug 2001